Page 6 of Her Cruel Empire
I send Leon an instruction by text, and ignore the dark look he sends me when he reads it, telling him to contact the Gattos for a meeting.
But as for me, something else has caught my eye—the waitress approaching with my drink. Around her mid-twenties, with strawberry blonde hair pulled up in an elaborate ponytail and curves that her clothes reveal rather than hide. She’s made up, but not over the top. No false lashes. No duck lips. No desperate glamour. Just…natural.
Luminous in a way that seems impossible in this place. Hell, in this entire city.
She starts to set my glass down, but something makes her pause. Our eyes meet, and I watch her fake smile turn real for just a moment.
“Do you always smile like that,” I ask, letting my gaze linger deliberately on her mouth, “or is it just for me?”
She stands there like a deer caught in headlights. A nervous laugh escapes her. “Uh—I mean, I smile at everyone.”
I lean forward, resting my chin lazily in my hand. “A girl like you must make a lot of tips with that smile.”
Pink blooms across her cheeks like watercolor. “I guess. Depends on the night.”
She fumbles the coaster, nearly spills my drink, then steadies it with shaking hands. The blush deepens, spreading down her neck, across her ample cleavage. I watch all of it with growing amusement.
“You have an accent,” she blurts out, and then bites her lip.
“I do.”
“Are you British?”
“I am not. Would you like to guess again? We could make a lovely little game out of it.” I let my eyes wander over her and watch the flush darken in her cheeks—and her pupils dilate.
“Shirley!” shouts a voice from the bar. “Girl, I’m getting swamped here, c’mon!”
She glances back “I gotta get back to the bar,” she says, and there’s real regret in her voice. “Do you, um, want anything else?” she asks.
“More of that flustered look. It’s charming.”
For a moment she just stares at me, lips parted in surprise. Then she gives a strangled laugh and backs away like I might bite.
I wasn’t planning on playing around tonight. My mind was on business, on revenge, on the thousand ways I could make the Colombos regret their arrogance. But suddenly I’m tempted. This girl isn’t my usual type at all.
I prefer sophistication. Experience. Women who understand the rules of the game.
But there’s something about her reactions, the way she sneaks a look over her shoulder at me as she goes back to the bar, that sparks something inside.
I watch her upset a full glass and apologize profusely to her blue-haired bar-mate, who glares at me as though it’s my fault. I suppose it is. She keeps glancing at me from under her lashes, biting her lower lip in a way that suggests she hasnoidea how appealing she looks.
A tender little morsel…
Leon appears at my elbow. “The Gattos,” he says quietly. “They want to meet tomorrow.”
I sigh at his interruption, but the news he brings is welcome. “Perfect.”
“Not perfect,” he says sternly. “The Gattos? They are?—”
“They’ll do for now,” I snap. The Gatto family might be beneath me, but they serve a purpose. Helping them will make life very difficult for Brie Colombo in her little kingdom. “Give me two hundred dollars cash.”
He does, and I walk up to the bar, ignoring the stares from the various lowlifes around me. The girl—Shirley, I suppose—sees me coming, and stands there with wide eyes, pulling a beer until it overflows onto her hand and she startles, setting it down.
“For the smile,” I tell her, sliding the bills over to her. She takes it with her beer-wet hand—I know, because I stroke my fingers lightly over hers. “Perhaps we can play that game I mentioned another time.”
Her blue eyes go so wide I think they’re in danger of popping out.
I step out into the Vegas night, wishing I could go back inside and continue that fun little distraction. Under different circumstances, I might have taken her back to my hotel room, taught her things that would make her blush spreadeverywhere.
