Page 20 of Delicious Surrender

She swore and stomped down the steps. Rain pelted her as she jogged two city blocks, found the lane, and ran some more, cursing the old fart the whole way. In the time it took, she could have been inside getting changed.Fucking hell.

By the time she reached the entrance and rang the bell, she was out of breath and in a rage. The clock was ticking in her head like a time bomb. She punched the bell twice more just as the door opened. She looked up to see a pair of cold green eyes and shook her head in despair. Brynne rarely cried, but the censurein his face was almost her undoing. She looked at him, her voice barely audible. “No one told me about the staff entrance. I’m sorry, I went to the front door. I didn’t know.” She took a breath and added, “It, it won’t happen again.”

While she was suffering from verbal diarrhea, he stepped forward and pulled her into the small vestibule by the lapels of her soaked trench coat.

Gage’s eyes looked her up and down. “No, I’m sure it won’t. Garrick will give you an access badge for this door next week. If you make it through the weekend.”

Brynne felt her temper rising. Her chin lifted in challenge. “I’m no quitter. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready.”

She ducked out of the enclosed space and hurried to the locker room, mumbling under her breath. That bastard tweaked her temper again. If she was going to survive, she’d better work on her poker face. He enjoyed twisting her in knots and was betting on her to give up. Well, she had no intention of letting him win. She never backed down, sometimes to her utter detriment.

Thank god there was a hairdryer and various other toiletries and hair products in the ladies’ changing room. She quickly repaired her hair and reapplied her makeup. The uniform was hanging in her locker. When she got it on and looked in the full-length mirror, she bit her lip and shook her head. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

The frilly white blouse with cap sleeves covered the essentials, but the black corset-style dress cinched her waist and undercut her breasts, blatantly pushing them up. The black skirt only reached mid-thigh, and it too had ruffles around thebottom. A white lace apron completed the ridiculous French maid ensemble. It was over the top, and Brynne guessed that was the point. She carefully put on her seamed stockings and black high heels and touched up her lipstick. Facing her reflection, she took a deep breath and said, “Don’t let these bastards get to you!”

She went up to the main floor in search of Garrick. As she entered the lounge, all eyes turned to look at her and conversations stalled. Brynne concentrated on ignoring them and walked toward the man behind the bar. She reached for the polished brass rail and held on to it for support. The gray-haired barkeep had a kind smile and a bushy mustache. “You must be the new girl. I’m Bill, head bartender.”

Relieved, she said, “Hi Bill, I’m Br—”

He stopped her with a hand on her wrist and a shake of his head. “Tinkerbell is the name you’ll go by, missy. I’ve got your name tag right here.” He winked and whispered, “No one needs to know your real name.”

“Got it. Thanks, Bill.” She took the tag from him and attached it to her blouse.

“Go into the back and ask for Melinda—you’ll train with her tonight.” He gestured to the two doors between the bar and a glass-enclosed wine room. “She’s the tall platinum blonde. You can’t miss her.”

In the back of the house, she saw Garrick first. He was speaking to a busser, reprimanding him for something, so she hung back and looked for Melinda. Bill was right. She was about five feet ten in her heels and very slim—everywhere, except for her boobs! Brynne wondered how she kept from toppling over.Melinda hurried over and surprised Brynne by hugging her. “You must be Tinkerbell! I’m Melinda the Good Witch. I’m so happy to meet you!” Her voice was sweet, like a Southern belle.

“Nice to meet you too, Melinda. Can I ask, do you think I can get my name changed? I would rather not have Tinkerbell. It’s ridiculous.”

Melinda giggled but didn’t reply. Garrick’s deep baritone behind her made her jump. “I choose the names, Tink. So, I’m afraid you are stuck with it.”

“Um, right.” She flushed. “Sorry, Garrick. Understood.”

“You will shadow Mel tonight and help her with the drinks and food service. We serve light fare in the lounge until ten o’clock.” He handed her a leather-bound book. “Familiarize yourself with the menu. If people want a broader menu, they can go to the dining room—but that kitchen closes at nine thirty.”

Brynne nodded and took the menu. Melinda grabbed her arm and linked it with her own. “Come on, the natives must be restless. I ducked out to the powder room. And Bettie went home early, so they’re running me off my feet.”

The night passed quickly. She received a few leering looks, one stray hand on her bottom, and two proposals of marriage. It was easy to smile and divert their attentions and she giggled at the outrageous request for a kiss. By nine, her feet were killing her. She would have to get a pair of shoes with a lower heel. Melinda was sweet and kept a running commentary on how everything needed to be done, so one doesn’tget into hot water, as she called it. With the members, she had perfected a flirtatious yet chaste demeanor. She blushed easily and deflected any would-be suitors by pretending to be offended. Brynnewatched and learned.

It was near closing time, and there was one table left with two burly dudes who could be mafia enforcers or bouncers for an exclusive nightclub. They’d ordered a full bottle of Stolichnaya Elit and had finished three quarters of it. Brynne thought she heard them speaking Russian, but they always stopped when she came near. She was putting away mixes behind the bar when a third man joined them. His aura was a disturbing combination of power and menace. He was easily six feet tall, dressed in a dark-blue bespoke suit that accentuated his massive shoulders. From her vantage point, she watched the other two men stand and show deference to him. They offered him the vodka, but he waved them off and turned to look toward the bar.

His eyes met hers, and her first instinct was to flee. Her stomach dropped with a feeling of inevitability—this predator had just spotted prey. Melinda was not back, so she couldn’t ignore the demand in his gaze. She smoothed down her skirt and hurried over. “Yes sir, may I get you something to drink?”

Hazel eyes raked her over from head to toe. Then he smiled. His perfect white teeth had her thinking of Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf. He shifted closer and looked down at the name tag on her chest. “Tinkerbell?”

She dug her fingernails into her palm and looked at his bristly jaw to avoid his eyes. “Yes.”

He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Such fire in those dark eyes, devushka.” His voice was deep and raspy, like he’d just smoked a pack of unfiltered cigarettes. It made the hair rise on the back of her neck. He let go of her chin, but his eyes never left hers. “Fizzy Aqua Panna with a lime.”

She nodded. “Rocks?”

“Da,” he said. She froze as he tucked a stay hair behind her ear, then spun away and went to the bar. She was shaking and fumbling with the bottle when Melinda came back.

“Where did we put the limes?”

Mel retrieved them from the fridge and dressed the glass. “You look spooked, doll. I can take his drink over.”

Brynne nodded, relief relaxing her shoulders. “That guy unnerved me a bit.”