Page 34 of Sexting My Ex's Dad
I look into her eyes, hoping that she’s joking, but she’s completely serious.
“I’m beginning to question your character.”
She laughs, waving me off. “My goal in life is to become a stay at home housewife to a rich man. I would have accepted that offer before it even fully left his mouth.”
I can’t believe her. “You’re horrible.”
“I know.”
“He wanted me to sleep with him as part of my position, you know?”
She just smirks. “That sounds like a perk to me.”
I shake my head. “Yep, and I’m ending this conversation now.”
We both laugh before resuming work.
The door chimes and a customer walks in, casting a shadow on the floor.
As I turn to greet the newcomer, an unsettling feeling creeps up my spine – the sensation of being watched. I subtly scan the room, trying to pinpoint its source. My pulse quickens when my eyes land on Elio, who has entered Regency unnoticed and taken a seat at one of the tables.
“Hey,” Isobel nudges me gently with her elbow. “Can you handle that new customer? I’ve got to take care of something in the back.”
By the grin on her face, that’s an excuse. She just wants me to be close to Elio. “You’re not loyal.”
She waves me off, as she walks away. “I know.” Then she disappears behind the door that separates the front from the back of the establishment.
With each step towards the new patron, I can feel Elio’s piercing blue eyes following me, their intensity impossible to ignore. I greet the customer, my voice slightly shaky, and take their order as quickly as possible.
I manage to serve the customer, each interaction punctuated by Elio’s watchful presence, the unrelenting pressure of his stare like a vice grip around my heart. My skin prickles with goosebumps beneath the weight of his gaze, the memory of his lips pressed against mine – tender, insistent, electrifying – threatening to derail my composure.
I feel like some lovesick idiot. Who dotes this long from just a kiss?It isn’t just the kiss.It’s everything about Elio.
“Mistress,” a man at a corner table beckons me over. I approach him reluctantly, trying to ignore the heat radiating from Elio’s direction.
It’s the same thing every time he comes. He doesn’t order or say anything – he just sits there. It has to be some kind of mind game.
“How can I help you, master?” I ask, fighting the urge to glance over at Elio, who I can feel watching my every move.
“Another round, please,” the man purrs, his words dripping with innuendo. I nod stiffly and scurry away to fetch his drinks, my mind racing with thoughts of Elio.
Why is he here? To torment me? To remind me that he’s always lurking in the shadows, waiting to pull me back in?
I’m not going to change my answer. He should know that by all of the unanswered text messages he’s sent me.
“Here you are, master,” I say as I return, placing the man’s drink before him and avoiding eye contact. “Enjoy.”
“Thank you, beautiful,” he replies, raising his glass in a mock toast before taking a sip. I force a tight-lipped smile and slip away.
As I work the rest of my shift, the heavy feeling of his gaze never leaves.
It isn’t until closing that Elio walks out the door.
And a part of me hates to see him go.
19
STELLA
