Page 28 of Her Possessive Daddies

Hands shaking, I reach for the delicate glassware. "How rich are we talking?"

"Well, they rented out the entire VIP section for the night. That's a five-figure minimum." Lacey adds some artisanal bitters to the bin. "And from the looks of their watches alone? Let's just say they probably spend more on accessories than we make in a year."

"Oh god." I clutch a glass tightly in my hand. "What if they're like, mobsters or something?"

"Nah, too smooth. More like old money." Lacey plucks the glass from my death grip and sets it carefully in the bin. "These guys requested you for a reason."

"Yeah, because they must have wanted a comedy show on the side." My hands tremble as I arrange garnishes on a silver tray.

"Stop it, right now. You're gorgeous, you're smart, and you mix drinks better than half the veteran staff already." Lacey adjusts my apron strings, smooths down my hair. "Besides, rich guys love it when pretty girls act a little nervous. Makes them feel powerful or something."

"That's not helping."

"Here." She presses a cloth napkin into my palm. "For your hands. They're sweating."

"Thanks." I wipe my palms, trying to steady my breathing. "What if-"

"No what ifs. Just be yourself. That's clearly working already." Lacey winks, loading the last of the glasses into the service bin. "Now come on, your adoring sugar daddies are waiting."

She guides me toward the back stairwell, her hands on my shoulders. The narrow passage leads up to the VIP section - all dark wood and velvet curtains from what I've glimpsed through the door.

"Remember," Lacey whispers as we reach the bottom step. "Chin up, shoulders back. You belong here just as much as they do."

"I really don't think-"

"Less thinking, more walking." She gives me a gentle push. "Go show them what you've got."

I start up the stairs, crystal glasses clinking softly with each step. My heart is pounding, but Lacey's words echo in my head. Chin up. Shoulders back. You belong here.

I set the heavy bin down in the prep area, my arms trembling from carrying it up the stairs. The crystal glasses clink as I arrange them on the silver serving tray, along with a small notepad for taking orders.

Deep breaths. Just pretend they're regular customers. No big deal.

My reflection in the polished steel counter catches my eye - flushed cheeks, wild curls escaping from my carefully styled updo. I tuck the wildest strands behind my ear, straighten my apron, square my shoulders.

Come on. You can do this. You can do this.

The swinging door feels heavier than usual as I force myself to walk through it. The VIP lounge spreads before me in all its glory - rich mahogany panels, plush velvet booths, dim lighting from crystal chandeliers that probably cost more than my yearly rent.

My heart stops.

Corey sits at the curved booth in the corner, looking even more devastating than I remember in a dark suit that hugs his broad shoulders. His silver-streaked hair catches the light as he leans forward, saying something to his companion.

And holy hell, what a companion. The other man matches Corey in both presence and polish - tall, built, with classic good looks straight out of a CEO magazine spread. His navy suit probably costs more than my car.

They haven't noticed me yet. I grip the tray tighter, frozen in place as I watch them share some private joke. Corey's laugh echoes across the room, deep and rich, sending a shiver down my spine.

What is he doing here? Why didn't he tell me he'd be coming tonight?

The tray trembles in my hands as reality hits - he specifically requested me. This isn't some random encounter. He planned this.

My legs turn to jelly. I should run. I should absolutely turn around and tell Lacey I can't do this. But before I can move, Corey looks up and our eyes meet across the room.

14

COREY

My breath catches as Abbie walks toward our table. The dim lights of the VIP suite cast shadows across her face, making those hazel eyes shine brighter. She takes small, careful steps - like a fawn testing new ground.

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