Page 64 of Untamed

I don’t stop walking until I’m behind the staff doors and out of view. My breath is shaky. My hands feel ice cold. The tray still clutched against my chest like a damn emblem.

Why the hell do I feel like I just got caught cheating?

It doesn’t make sense.

I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m just working. Just serving drinks in a club filled with strangers. That’s all.

But the way he looked at me…like I’d somehow betrayed him. Like I belonged to him, and he wasn’t aware I’d been put on display.

The worst part is... itfeltlike betrayal, and I hate that it does.

I set the tray down, palms sweaty, stomach tight. The pit forming in my chest only grows as the seconds tick by.

Sophia rounds the corner, already halfway to the bar when she sees me.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Can you take over Table 7?” I ask, voice low and tight.

Her brows rise. “That’s VIP.”

“I know. Just...please. I need a minute, and I can’t go back out there.”

She hesitates, eyes scanning my face.

“Jordyn, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I lie. “I just… I need you to cover me. You can keep my tips, and I will owe you.Please?”

Sophia nods slowly. Doesn’t ask again. Just grabs the tray and hands me hers before she disappears back through the curtain like it’s nothing.

But I know better.

Because somewhere on the other side of that velvet, Ares Russo is still sitting there. Likely scowling. And I canfeelhis eyes on me...even when he’s not there.

I close my eyes and press myself back against the door. “Fuck.”

I do my best to try to shake it off.

Come on, Jordyn. Focus on the job. Keep your head down and keep moving. Everything is fine.

But every time I turn, I feel him.

Not just watching...tracking. Like his eyes have weight, and they’re pressing into me from across the room. I move between tables, tray balanced on one hand, smile locked in place. My feet ache. My shoulders burn. But it’s nothing compared to the heat crawling up my spine. I catch him in the reflection of the back bar mirror.

Still seated in the alcove. Still very composed. VeryAres Russo.

But he’s not listening to the man across from him anymore.

He’s watching me.

Always.

Our eyes lock for a second, and it’s enough to make my steps falter. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away. It feels like a warning. Like a silent promise of what I couldn’t tell you, but it’s enough to rattle me.

So much so that I don’t even realise the shards of broken glass on the tray Sophia handed me. Not until I reach for it—still not looking—and the shard slices across the pad of my thumb.

I wince as the sting pulses through me, glancing down to find blood beading at the edge of the cut.

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