Page 3 of The Betrayer
Chapter 2
William
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IGLANCED DOWN AT MYwatch. It was 4:00 PM, and I knew the smart thing would be to head home, change into my tux, and head out so I would get to the gala on time.
But there were far more interesting things going on in front of me. Like the sway of the bartender’s hips as she moved behind the bar. She went from one patron to the next, turned to grab something from the mirrored wall of shelves and multi-colored liquor bottles, and spun to pour it with fascinatingly smooth grace, her hips shifting. Even her upper half gave me something to watch as she shook a shaker, handing a multi-colored drink to an older woman sitting down the bar from me, who did nothing but stare with a pinched look instead of extending the standard thank you.
The bartender was a flower among the other patrons at the clubhouse who were, as a rule, old, stodgy, and pinched, surgeries clear on faces that looked old and unnaturally young at the same time. She certainly stood out among the deep oak and leather of the old club, held in a perpetual twilight to help create atmosphere.
Truth be told, this wasn’t my favorite place. The people were uninteresting, and I’d had better drinks at dive bars across town. But this was where you came when you had money—new money—and so this club was where I regularly went, instead of those dive bars across town. At least when I wasn’t trying to find someone interesting.
Except, today, I found someone interesting.
“Are you new?” I leaned forward as I accepted the whiskey on the rocks the bartender passed across the oak surface of the bar top.
The young woman shook her head, her blonde locks slipping over her shoulder. “No, I usually work in the morning. But I switched to evenings.”
Ah, that was why—I didn’t do mornings.
“Better times?” I was sure my eyes twinkled with mischief over the glass as I took a sip. It burned nicely all the way down—good whiskey.
A snort was the reply to my question, one the bartender quickly smothered. “Here?” she asked quietly instead, her gaze flicking to the other patrons and then back to me as she swiped at the bar with a damp cloth. “Better pay, usually.”
“Ah.” I took another sip, thoroughly amused. And in agreement.
But her gaze flicked up to me, lingered, then moved away again.
“Don’t worry.” I flashed her a lazy smile. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry. My bosses know it, too.”
The young woman started at my sharp laugh, surprise flitting across her face for a moment before a small smile and subtle flush of her cheeks chased it away.
I pitched my voice lower and leaned forward conspiratorially, and the bartender mirrored my actions to hear my words. “Well, I have to agree. I certainly wasn’t expecting any type of amusement today.”
The young woman stiffened, her gaze flicking to my face again. But her cheeks grew slightly pinker.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” she said, but I didn’t miss the pull of a flattered smile at her lips as she turned away.
The whiskey went down smoothly, and it didn’t take me long to get through it. It helped that it wasn’t my first of the day, either. I’d spent the afternoon talking business and pleasure with several executives as we played a rousing round of golf under a perfectly blue early autumn sky. The leaves were barely changing, the weather had been perfect, and we’d all lingered on the links, taking in the perks of who we were. Maybe, too, wasting time as we delayed getting to the gala none of us wanted to attend.
These were stuffy affairs with stuffy people, all preening peacocks trying to outdo one another with their stock portfolios, shoes, country houses, and charity boards. Spending time with people like that certainly wasn’t why I’d started my company.
