Page 13 of Dancing with the Devil
I was hesitant, so I simply told him I was upset that someone I cared about deeply—Nereus—clearly didn’t feel the same.
The conversation really opened my eyes, and I pondered on his words.
Am I too selfless for my own good? I’d rather endure all this pain and trauma for Nereus, whereas he’s on some island, sunbathing with his girlfriend of the week. He doesn’t call, text, or even check up on me when he knows damn well that his dirty cop is harassing me. Maybe I should start living for myself.
For all these years I’ve been living for my parents, for my brother, for my family but never for me. Do I have it in me to expose his location and watch his whole world burn to the ground?
I pushed away all those gut-wrenching thoughts and decided to enjoy my food instead.
After lunch, Jordan and I headed back to the cafe. There had been a line forming, and of course, Madeline was at the register. I walked to the back, throwing on my apron. “Sweetie?” Madeline murmured as she rushed into the back room.
I turned to face her.
“There’s a guy looking for you,” she reluctantly whispered, making me frown. “He’s holding up the line, saying that he’s waiting for Nirah.”
“Did you get a name,” I asked as we made our way to the front. She shook her head, and I nodded before walking toward the register. He stood with his back toward me, and I pressed a smile onto my face.
I put on my preppiest voice. “Good afternoon. What can I get you?”
He turned around, and my heart dropped.The hot stranger.“Yep,” I nodded. “You’re definitely stalking me,” I teased, and his eyes dropped down to my name tag before his unwavering gaze met mine.
“You’re the one who told me to get mysorry assover here,” he stepped closer, crossing his hands on the countertop.Oh fuck.
“Well then, I guess if you could come down to the cafe, you weren’t so busy after all,” I forced a smile. I darted my eyes back down to the computer as I set it up for his order. “Now… what can I get you?”
“One cappuccino,” he answered with his eyes burning through me. The tension was so thick you could cut it with Madeline’s acrylic nails. Our eyes kept a daring gaze, neither looking away.
“Size?”
“Regular,” he answered and I pressed my lips into a thin line.Ha. Of course.I looked back down at the computer, confirming his order and then placed it. “My assistant had a rather lengthy complaint about you,Nirah,” he said, placing both his forearms on the counter top. I didn’t like how he said my name. Smooth, intentional, and, well, laced with sensuality.
I scoffed. “Really?”
“Do you handle all your customers with such disrespect?”
My answer was genuine, and soft. It lacked attitude and my usual sass. “Only the ones who think they’re better than everyone else.”
He hummed in response, nodding his head. “That’ll be $5.50.Extrafor your exquisite taste.”
“Do you enjoy your job here? Because I doubt your boss will be pleased to know you’re disrespecting not one, but two of their customers.”
Leaning forward on the counter top, I met his intense eyes. “You don’t get to threaten me at my own goddamn job,” I softly said, not breaking eye contact. “Now, would you like to file a complaint?” I asked and his stare darkened. “If not, I suggest you pay and head over there—” I nodded over to where people were currently waiting for their orders. “To wait for your drink.”
Jordan and Madeline both stepped behind the counter.
Madeline with a drink in her hand and Jordan with some paperwork and both of them stopped at the sight of us.
“Do we have a problem here?” Jordan asked, waiting for me to say the word.
“That’ll be 5.50,” I repeated.
Mr. Jackassreached into his pocket and grabbed a $50 bill from his wallet, tossing it on the counter top. He took his cappuccino that Madeline had made, way too fast for my liking, and nodded towards the $50 bill.
“For yourexquisitecustomer service,” he said before turning and heading for the door. The little bell above the door rang as he stepped out and it felt as though I could breathe again. Letting out a heavy sigh, I took the bill, and tossed it into the register.
“Hey, what was that all about?” Jordan cautiously asked, his voice laced with concern.
“I guess it’s just not my day,” I mumbled before heading out back.
