Page 2 of Vendetta

Though she acts unaware I know that she knows. A girl like that isn’t stupid. A girl like that isn’t oblivious. The scars on her face, the scars on her body tell me that.

She walks, no, glides about the space. Her body still beautiful, still wanton, despite the obvious trauma.

Her hair is down. Just like always. And the curves I know she has, are hidden under the overly baggy shirt.

Preston watches her too. Just for a second before his eyes flit to the other women. The other barmaids.

In a line up, none of my men would pick Eleri. None of them would give her a second glance. They’d see the scars, they’d see the way she holds herself, no, hides herself and they’d choose one of the others. The world has brought them up to want an Instagram worthy, filter perfect image of a woman. A plastic fantastic model with perfect eyebrows, perfect lips, and a size zero body to boot.

And all the other girls try to adhere to this ridiculous ideal as if it were gospel.

But Eleri, Eleri is different. Eleri is perfect.

Two men in the corner knock over a glass and the beer splashes everywhere. Eleri is quick to respond grabbing a cloth and moving to catch the liquid before it spreads too far.

I watch as she bends over, as she gets on her knees and dabs the floor at these men’s feet. One of them murmurs something and the other smirks before he looks at her properly. And then the smirk on his lips drops.

He sees the scar concealed by her hair. He sees the way her skin is marked and his face reacts in disgust.

Eleri sees it too but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even respond. She just continues doing her job. Doing what all my other god damn staff should be doing except they’re flirting right now, flirting with my men, oblivious to anything in the hopes that they might score the bigtime.

You see that’s what they’re all here for. That’s why they work at my bar. It’s not that the pay’s good, although it’s not bad. It’s not that it’s glamourous. My club is where the glamour is at but this bar is where I reside most often.

And that’s why they want to work here.

It’s because of who I am. And who my associates are and the life one of us could raise them to.

That is, everyone except Eleri, because she works here for me. Though she doesn’t know it yet. She doesn’t have a clue.

I’ve spent the last two years stalking this woman, watching from the shadows, playing her guardian angel and manipulating everything around her till I was ready to make my move. Till she was ready too.

And now I can feel that we’re finally at this juncture.

I nod my head at the doorman and he reacts instantly signalling to everyone else to get the fuck out. It’s late anyway, past last orders, but we don’t play the rules here. We make our own rules.

As I lean back in my seat one of the barmaids walks up with a glass of whiskey. Neat. Just how I like it. She places it on the table in front of me and then sits down, leaning forward enough for me to get a good view of her tits beneath the curve of her tight top.

I look. It would be rude not to and then I meet her eyes. Her lips are curled. She’s smiling just enough to be enchanting.

“Go away.” I say and her eyes widen as her face falls.

She gets up quickly. Thankfully she has enough brains not to push anything further.

Preston stares at her ass as she walks away. She’s making a point of swinging her hips, sashaying them, as if her body could compare with the girl now hiding in the corner. Hiding in the shadows.

“You need to learn to play nice.” Preston says and I laugh.

“No thanks.” I say back. I don’t play nice. I have no reason to. Niceties are for fools. For weaklings. I play to win. And I always do.

Preston gets up and leaves me to it. Clearly he wants to play with the barmaids and I’m more than happy for him to. He’s a big boy. He can occupy his own space for a while.

My eyes flit to Eleri once more. I could wait. I could leave it another night but my skin is itching and I’m done waiting. Hell I’ve waited two years already. Two long, agonising years.

She makes the mistake of looking at me. Just for a moment. Her head turns enough that our eyes meet and I know then that the moment is now. She’s made the decision for me. She’s sealed our fate.

I beckon her to me and as she takes each slow step I see the briefest litany of emotions cascade across her face. And then the mask comes down.

My fierce beauty. My defiant snow queen becomes a statue. A perfectly unreadable stranger.

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