Page 69 of Scorching Sienna

Love.

Chapter 18

Light

Oh. My. God.

I touch my lips, the feeling of them being scorched, still not fading even after hours have passed. I fear if the building manager's voice over the intercom hadn’t interrupted our moment in the elevator, I might even have blurted out the primary feeling that had suffused that moment. Love.

Just thinking how close I was to letting those words fall from the same lips he had ravaged just seconds before makes a nervous sweat break out. I rub my hands against my black work pants and swipe at my brow. That would have been a disaster. Damon probably doesn’t feel the same, and he's not saying it back might be the end of me. So, when he stepped back to press the red emergency button, I felt relieved. My sanity and self-preservation crashed back into me, saving me from the inevitable heartbreak of such an unreciprocated admission. That, however, didn’t mean that I hadn’t replayed the moment repeatedly.

Damon had kissed me. If that’s even what it can be called.

Sucked my soul from my body. Sent me on an out-of-body experience as if I was floating and diving all at once. What Damon did was not just kiss me but destroy me for everyone else.

It pained me to say, as I love James, but this kiss would be on a pedestal that I would use to measure any other man's worthiness in that category. And while the list of men I had kissed in my life was limited to single digits on one hand, it felt like no one would ever compare. I would never again have a first kiss that would knock this one from the glass cabinet I had placed it in high in the sky. It was untouchable. Transcendent.

When James and I first kissed, it was sweet—gentle and a little timid. I thought that was how it was supposed to be. As we shifted from friendship to a relationship, it lacked the fire and passion, which only came later, and not to the intensity I felt with Damon. It didn’t consume me like kissing Damon did.

I hated that I might feel this way when, to him, what we did might be just a kiss—plain and simple. Especially when it raised comparisons to James, leaving me feeling guilty yet again.

“Why are you frowning?” Stacey’s soft hand on my shoulder pulls me out of my head, reminding me that I am atSin.

“Are you sure you should be back? Damon didn’t exactly say what the issue was, but I gathered it was serious. If you need to talk, I am here.” Stacey's eyes dip down to my neck, the bruising there nearly gone. I reposition the scarf I am wearing, and then Stacey gives me a small reassuring smile.

“It’s perfect. And don’t worry. It’s only noticeable if you look really closely. And also, I am nosy. You don’t usually wear scarves in the middle of summer, so…”

I look at myself in the mirror, running the length of the bar backing, and then catch Damon's eye in the reflection. Is that concern I see intheir depths?

“Anyway, let's change the subject. I can see how uncomfortable you are, so I won’t torture you further. How is it going with you and boss man?” Stacey wiggles her brows comically.

That question seemed even more torturous.

“What do you mean? Nothing is going on. We are work colleagues. That’s all.”

Stacey bursts out laughing, and I blush as she draws the attention of more than one customer, even Damon’s.

“Peh-lease. Work colleagues don’t look at each other like that. And work colleagues definitely don’t throw each other over their shoulders and drag them to room number one for some kinky time. Not to mention the lift to and from home, the penthouse apartment, the restricted section access, your work shifts being chopped and changed to accommodate you, and the salary being way above the starting salary.” Stacey has her hand up, listing everything that separates me from her and the rest of the servers here. While she doesn’t seem annoyed by it, when I look around and catch Kate's gaze, I see…jealousy? Anger? Shit.

“And it's not just that. The customers here love you. It must be that innocent act you have going on. You make way more tips than all of us combined.”

I shift on my feet, feeling really uncomfortable with everything Stacey is saying and a little affronted. I am being nothing but myself, so the fact that she and the others thought it was an act was insulting. Perhaps I shouldn’t be working here.

“Luciano's table needs a top-up.” Gael's interruption is welcomed as he slides the tray topped with drinks across the bar—but only momentarily.

Stacey leans over to take it before Gael shakes his head.

“Sorry, Stace. Luciano asked for Sienna.” I wince as Stacey drops her hands and gives me an ‘I told you so’ look before disappearing to collect glasses from a table nearby.

I take the tray, my mind racing with what has just been said and what I should do.

When I reach Luciano's table, I plaster on a smile, reminding myself I have a job to do. Even if just for tonight.

Luciano is the son of Andrea Galeio of the Galeio Oil Rigging company, the largest oil rigging magnate this hemisphere has seen in thirty years. I know because I looked him up once after he tipped me a thousand dollars. He was definitely the most generous tipper amongst the high-profile figures who frequentedSin.

On autopilot, I start handing out the drinks. All the men at this table have been here at least once, so I know who has ordered what.

“How do you remember what everyone drinks?” Luciano’s heavily accented voice jolts me out of my head, and when I look up, everyone at the table is staring at me. My cheeks blaze at the attention.

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