Page 1 of Playing for the Dark
Chapter 1
Ellinor
“Put the fucking bottle down!” I yell at Randy, one of our regulars. I’ve worked at Shenanigans for over three years, and it is one thing after another with these customers. Shenanigans is nothing more than a hole-in-the-wall bar, but we don’t put up with this absurd shit.
Randy doesn’t listen. He pulls his arm back and hits this gorgeous, tattooed man upside the head with a glass beer bottle. The man doesn’t flinch, and before I can blink, he has Randy on his stomach on the floor, pushing his booted foot between his shoulder blades. The hot man is bent in half, hissing something into Randy’s ear, and the hair on the back of my neck stands. He speaks in a casual tone like he’s talking to any regular person, but the underlying venom in his voice is lethal. It shouldconcern me, but here I am, gawking in awe.That was hot as shit to watch.
I overheard some of their conversation as I was passing by, but Randy just seemed to be annoying him. I can tell this guy doesn’t come in here often. He ordered top-shelf bourbon, and if that doesn’t scream money, I don’t know what does. Hell, I had to open the bottle because no one had ever requested it.
“They should’ve never re-signed your sorry ass anyways, dropping that ball last sea—” That’s all Randy gets out before the man with the now wild eyes picks his boot up and slams it down on Randy’s neck.
“Randy, I would shut the fuck up if I were you,” I dole out. I’m so tired of this shit. It’s honestly the worst part of bartending; the dumb, drunk fucks that don’t know when to keep their mouths shut.
This man grinds his jaw, spitting out at Randy, “Apologize to her for littering her floor up.” Randy doesn’t immediately answer. “NOW!”Why is that hot?
Randy starts to apologize, “I’m sorry, Ellie. I just wanted an autogr—”
“No need to explain your childish behavior,” he spits out. “Now, get the fuck out, and I don’t want to see you in here ever again.”My panties are going to melt off if he keeps this up.
This really was Randy’s last straw. I’m going to text Charlie, the owner, and let him know. But it’s not like Charlie is ever here anyway.
He kicks Randy over, snags him up by the collar of his shirt like a rag doll, and throws him out the door without a second look. This man is a walking wet dream. He’s the epitome of eye candy, but that’s just Vegas life for you. He stands at least six foot three with chestnut skin and dark brown spiral curls that fall perfectly above his eyebrows and hang just over his ears.
1 But what causes the hitch in my breathing when my eyes move back up to his face are his green eyes looking right through me, staring into my soul. Putting his looks aside, he’s still the ideal package because he’s the star wide receiver for the Vegas Rebels. My dad and I are super fans, but I know better than to act all wild and fan-girl over an athlete.
“Thank you,” I say as he sits back at the bar.
“Zamir Prifti,” he answers, like someone would have the audacity not to know who this man is. With his hand out, palm up, I place my hand in his, and he kisses the top of it and fuck if I don’t swoon. This man is smooth; I’ll give him that. “And you are?” I hadn’t realized he was still holding my hand.
“Ellie,” I snip out. I don’t like disclosing my last name to people immediately. People are weird, especially those like my borderline-stalker ex-boyfriend, Jackson. Abruptly, I realize that the few people inthe pub are staring at this private moment, and I quickly remove my hand, not wanting questions from the regulars.
Trying to distract myself from him, I yell toward the other end of the bar to Jessica, “Where do you need me?” She knows her stuff, but she can be a little rude and loves to think she’s in control. She meets the classic stereotype every guy drools over with her blonde hair, huge tits, and a size two frame—basically tits on a stick. I tower over her five-one frame at five-nine myself; her size two pair of jeans wouldn’t even make it to my knees. Usually, I’m a twelve on a good day, fourteen when my cycle is around the corner. Not that I ever know when that is.Thanks, PCOS and birth control for keeping it away.Sure, I’m curvy but most people appreciate that about me, and if they don’t, guess what? They don’t have to look.
It’s just the two of us working behind the bar, and we are suspiciously dead for a Thursday evening. We are roughly ten miles from Vegas’s main strip, so most of the people we meet are either locals or employees of the businesses in the area.
Trying not to make eye contact with those pools of green, I round the corner but clip the side of the bar and nearly fall on my ass. Zamir’s huge, calloused hands shoot out and grab my upper arms to keep me upright. The mere touch of him ignites heat throughout my entire body. I can feel the blush starting to creep up my neck.
I murmur under my breath, “I’m the biggest klutz.” I move around him and start cleaning the glass from the beer bottle breaking over his head. I normally have a calculated, calloused attitude towards all men. This one on the other hand, has me completely flustered.I don’t like it.
I’ve felt his stare on me all night, but he hasn’t let up since our introduction. My internal monologue is going full swing. It’s more like the voice of my ex-boyfriend reverberating in my mind.
“Why are you wearing those ugly-ass goth clothes?”
“Why did you color your hair darker?”
“No wonder you don’t have any friends. You’re a calloused bitch.”
He pulls me out of my spiral. “Shpirt Im,where did you just go?” What the fuck did he just call me? I don’t know whether to be pissed off or fall to this man’s feet. Him knowing another language shouldn’t make my knees weak.
He yells at Jessica for a glass of water and tells me to sit at the bar. “I’m fine,” I declare. He doesn’t look any less worried about me and grabs the broom from my hands, leaning it against the bar top. Then, he proceeds to pick me up. I repeat. HE PICKS ME UP and places me on the stool. Jessica walks towards us and sets the water down for me. She gives me a look that says, what the fuck is going on?And do you feel comfortable with this stranger touching you?
“Damn, you two, I’m fine,” I spit out. He’s staring at me like I’m a potential fall risk, even though he’s the issue here.
I must have a worried look on my face, but I’m just not used to tentative guys. They usually get their drinks and go somewhere else, out from under my nose. I’m not the friendliest; I’m just a plain bitch most of the time. It’s just easier that way. But with him, something feels different. I’m just trying to work out what his motives are.
“Take a break. You deserve it after what just happened down here,” Jessica says, waving to Zamir’s head and drawing my attention to the fact that he’s bleeding. He’s the one that needs to be taken care of.
1. Miracle- Bad Omens