Page 4 of His Bet To Take
“Mae! Order up. Stop fucking around and do your job.” Joe, the owner and the cook of Island Joe’s, bellows from the kitchen. “Get your cute little ass out there and give people their food.”
I swallow the words I want to say and remember I need this worthless job that barely pays rent. I wipe the sweat off my brow, wishing this shithole had air conditioning.
“Sorry, Joe,” I say meekly, grabbing the plate with a Cuban club sandwich, and take it to table two.
“Don’t be sorry. Just move your pretty little ass and get to work.”
I stare at him through the window, my stomach curling when I see his fat belly hanging from his dirty, sweat-stained white tank top as he flips a hamburger on the grill.
I hold back the tears and turn on my heel, careful not to slip on the tiles that are slick with grease since Joe never cleans. I plaster on a smile and walk towards table two. Angela had already brought their drinks out for me because I needed to take five minutes to myself, but it looks like they haven’t touched them.
“I’m sorry about the wait.” I smile again, placing the plate down in front of a guy with a big scar on his cheek.
The other has a newspaper up, blocking his face, but my eyes flicker to his Rolex watch and the fine thread of his tailored suit, to the gold cuff links on either sleeve.
What’s a guy like this doing here?
He puts the paper down, revealing himself, and I gasp sharply.
This must be the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. He has perfectly cut dark brown hair parted to the side, smooth skin that’s clean-shaven, and a defined jaw with firm lips.
It’s the eyes that throw me off.
They are lifeless, piercing, so epically blue, I shiver.
“Does he always speak to you like that?” he asks, staring directly into my eyes as he speaks.
For some reason, I feel the need to look down. The power rolling off him is intimidating.
“Sweet Mae, don’t ever look away when someone talks to you. You never show weakness. Ever. Now, look at me.”
I do, but my eyes widen when I realize he knows my name. “How do you know me?”
“Don’t change the subject yet.” He takes a sip of water and crinkles his nose.
It’s Island water. What does he expect?
“Does he always speak to you like that? Answer me quickly, Mae. I’m not a patient man.”
I swallow and glance over my shoulder to Joe.
“Don’t look at him. Look at me.” His hand wraps around my wrist and a dangerous energy zips down my spine causing me to hold my breath. “Mae, I won’t ask again.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “He always speaks to me like that.”
“Has he touched you?” His voice deepens, a menacing tone I’ve only ever heard in movies.
“Touched me?” I try to tug my hand away from him, but he only tightens his hold.
“Has he dared to touch you?” His lashes lift as he stares at me through hooded eyes.
I shake my head, feeling like I’m backed into a corner. My entire body begins to tremble in fear. I don’t know who this man is, but I have a feeling whatever reason he is here, it can’t be good.
And he knows me.
Which means, if he is here for me, it’s because of my brother.
“Don’t lie to me, Mae.” He stands up, towering over me, and I have to tilt my head all the way back to look at him. He wraps his hand gently around my throat and leans in, his masculine scent clean and refined. “Has. He. Touched. You.” He grits out and his eyes dart between mine, waiting for me to answer.