Page 116 of Sins (The Sins Trilogy 1)
Obviously, I’m not going to tell her. Besides, Elizabeth said she wouldn’t hire Iris if she wasn’t qualified.
“What opening do you have at your company, anyway?”
“Bartender.”
“Oh! You should’ve said something. I’m actually pretty decent at it. When I was in Germany, I met this girl who was a bartender, and she taught me a few things.”
“Iris. If you were the Goddess of Bartending, I wouldn’t have given you that job.”
A couple of blinks, then she pulls back, her spine straightening. “Why not?”
“You know what makes a great bartender?”
She thinks for a moment. “Making a tasty drink fast? Getting the order right?”
“Any competent bartender does that. A great bartender is a great conversationalist. They get people to talk and flirt.”
“And?”
“And…I don’t want anybody flirting with you.”
Surprise flickers over her lovely face. “Really?”
“Do you have any idea what bastards some of the men who come to my clubs are?”
She shakes her head.
“They’re terrible players. Unfit to be in your company.” It’s not quite true. Almost all the people who come to my clubs behave. And they aren’t dicks. But they do get flirty and a little too touchy-feely when they have too much alcohol. Many bartenders don’t mind too much as long as they don’t cross the line because they tend to tip outrageously. But I’ll be damned if anyone’s going to touch Iris.
“What kind of clubs do you run again?” she asks, amused.
“The absolute best.”
“Is that so? You have yet to take me to any of them.”
“Just say the word.” Now that I’ve decided to accept my feelings for her rather than fight or doubt them, I want to show her everything I have. I want to prove to her I’m a man who’s worth her time and more.
“I’m going to have to check with Julie and see when she can find time to come with us. Is that okay?” she asks.
“Sure.” She can bring an entire entourage if that’s what she wants.
After we’re served our steaks, a pianist sits at the baby grand. I’ve just cut a bite when the man starts Grand Galop Chromatique.
Iris winces a little.
“What’s wrong? The food not to your liking?” I ask.
“No, it’s fine. Probably the best steak I can remember having.”
“Then…?”
She hesitates, then says, “It’s the music.” She glances toward the piano, then starts coughing.
I pat her on the back. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she says hoarsely, then takes a quick sip of wine. “That’s him.”
“Who?”
