Page 1 of Watch Her Bleed
Chapter One
Aurora
I have been working all day and my feet are killing me. On top of that, I haven’t eaten since the granola bar I had on my way to work. I work at an Italian fine-dining restaurant in Chicago called Vita Divina. My boss, Robert Gains, is an asshole dictator who is determined to kill me. He knows I can’t go all day without eating. I’ve told him time and time again that I am liable to pass out if my blood sugar crashes. Does he care? No. Absolutely not.
“Robert,” I call out.
“What, Aurora?” he sighs.
“I need to eat. I have been running around all day. Can you please cut me thirty minutes early?”
“You have a table,” he says, pointing to my section.
“Seriously?” I ask. “I’m supposed to be off the floor in thirty minutes.”
“You better hope they eat fast,” he says with a shrug before walking away.
“Un-fucking-believable,” I mumble as I walk to the newly sat table. Three gorgeous men are smiling and chatting, not a care in the world. They look expensive, and that says something when the place is generally no less than two hundred dollars a person to eat here. They are all wearing perfectly tailored Armani suits. They are all strikingly handsome with their styled, dark brown hair and neatly trimmed beards. They have obvious rippling muscles because even a three-piece suit can’t hide the bulkiness of their bicep muscles. They are probably more than a foot taller than me, and I stand just above five feet tall. I have a thing for men who are big enough to break me in half without even breaking a sweat so maybe staying until closing isn’t going to be all that bad. Admittedly, that is likely due to trauma and trying to cope.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” I say with a sweet smile. When the man on the right looks over at me, his gaze leaves me breathless and stunned for a moment. “My name is Aurora, and I will be taking care of you tonight. Can I start you all off with a wine listing?”
“What do you recommend?” the man to my right asks with a smirk as if testing me.
“That entirely depends on what you are eating tonight,” I reply with the same sweet smile.
“We’ll do whatever the chef special is tonight,” he says.
“I would recommend our 2016 Marroneto Brunello di Montalcino. It pairs wonderfully with the Bistecca Alla Florentina,” I reply without hesitation. That bottle of wine is over three grand, but he looks like he can afford it. No one comes here on a budget, so I will always recommend whatever is the most expensive pairing.
“We’ll take a bottle of that and the chef’s special,” he says with a charming smile.
“Not a problem,” I say happily.
I can feel his eyes on me as I walk back to the kitchen to put in the order. I’ve been taught to think that I’m not much to look at, but sometimes, like right now, I can tell when a man likes what he is looking at. I am short and curvy, and by the looks of it, his type. If I wasn’t talking, he was looking over my body, studying every inch of me.
I go to get the wine and my head is suddenly swimming. I can feel my blood sugar crashing. I need to get this bottle out to them so I can come back and eat something. I am seriously going to pass out if I don’t get something in me soon. I grab the bottle opener before walking back to the table. They watch me as I open the wine and pour a glass for the man who ordered. He swirls the glass before taking a sip, then nods to me with a smile. I pour the other two a glass before leaving it on ice at the table.
“Thank you, Aurora,” he says with a charming smile.
“My pleasure,” I reply sweetly. “I will go check on your meal.”
I go back to the kitchen and Robert is yelling for food runners. “Aurora. Run your fucking food,” he snaps at me.
“I was opening wine, Robert. Chill,” I say as I put plates on the tray.
“It doesn’t take that long to open wine,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Go.”
I huff and pick up the tray. I am shaky but I keep a hold of the tray as I carry it to the only table in my section. “Here we go, gentlemen,” I say as I set their food down. “Can I get you all anything else?” I am so weak that I do not doubt that the men at the table can tell now that something is wrong. The man to my right is looking me over but keeps a warm smile on his face.
“Just some more wine when you get a moment,” he says kindly.
“Let me set this tray down and I’ll be right back,” I say. He smiles and nods once before I turn back to the kitchen. I toss the tray down and Robert glares at me.
“Lose the attitude,” he states simply. I ignore him and go back to my table.
“Are we your last table of the night?” he asks.
“You are.” I smile.
