Page 11 of Off-Limits Bosses
“Hey,” I said, drawing the bartender’s attention, and he raised an eyebrow at me.
“I imagine he’s asking for triple the original order of vodka?” The bartender asked, as if this was a given. “I already prepped for that, you don’t need to worry.”
“No, I actually had a question for you,” I answered, though I was impressed with his foresight. After I spoke, he paused what he was doing, and looked at me curiously. It was like he was wondering whether he wanted to be part of some sort of gossip or not.
“Yeah?” He slowly leaned over the newly set up counter.
“What’s the deal with Mr. Thatcher?” I asked curiously, nodding toward Bryant, who was talking to someone about the umbrella in the corner. “Why’s everyone treating him like he’s the president?”
The bartender’s jaw tightened, and he immediately straightened himself up again.
“We don’t talk about Mr. Thatcher,” he said firmly, before instantly turning away from me.
Okay, weird,I thought, making a mental note to ask someone else later, to see if they had the same reaction. Clearly, there wassomethingdifferent about Bryant, especially if people didn’t want to talk about what it was. It was a little dodgy, and a little mysterious, and I really wanted to know more.
“Adriana,” Bryant’s voice calling my name had me hurrying toward where he stood. “I’ve decided I need to triple the vodka order.”
I was surprised, but I only smiled. “Already done.”
“Oh,” Bryant grinned at me, before biting flirtily at his bottom lip and brushing his fingers over my arm. The movement sent a thrilling sensation through my body. “Damn, remind me to tell Landon he’s pulled a rabbit out of the hat with you.”
“Thank you,” I said with a quick nod, ignoring his flirtations as much as I could. “I believe everything is in place now. Anything else I should add to my list?”
He seemed to think for a moment, tapping at his chin with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Actually, there is one thing… Why don’t you change into your swimsuit for the event? I’m sure nobody would complain.”
Before I could stop myself, I started laughing nervously. “Uh, I don’t know about that. I… uh… I think I’ll go check on progress in the kitchen.”
With that, I turned and walked away, trying to hide the redness in my cheeks.
6
Adriana
To my relief, the party was a huge success, and I managed to avoid getting into a bikini the whole time. The rest of the night mostly involved small requests and planning for the next day.
Now, I was standing outside of Mr. Klein’s office, and it was almost midnight. My feet were killing me, and I was in desperate need of a nap. But my first day was basically over, and I didn’t get fired, injured, or severely embarrassed. Frankly, I was sure I had hit it out of the park, even with Celeste’s constant criticism during the tasting and the mishaps with Reggie and Nolan. Really, I was convinced that Bryant’s party made up for all of those.
I steeled myself before knocking on Mr. Klein’s door.
“Come in,” I heard from the other side, and I did just that, closing the door behind me. Mr. Klein was standing by the bar along one of the walls, and he turned to face me with a small smile on his face that woke butterflies in my stomach.
“Congratulations,” he started, grabbing two glasses and placing them on the bar counter. “You’ve survived your first day. That earns you a drink.”
“Uh,” I paused, glancing around the office as if I was looking for a hidden camera. “I can’t. I’m technically still on the clock.”
Mr. Klein scoffed, clearly amused, and poured two whiskeys anyway. “After the day you’ve had, I insist you take a moment to relax. We’re just going over the guest schedules anyway. It’s not like you have to build a rocket before you clock out.”
I moved toward him. “In that case, thank you.”
He offered me one of the glasses, and I took it, my fingers brushing across his. I had to look away for a moment to get my focus back when I felt the electricity from that brief touch. After clearing my throat, I made my way to the pair of high-back chairs on the other end of the office, where a tablet lay on the table between them.
“Please, take a seat,” he said, his voice gentle and somehow comforting. At this point, I was sure I wasn’t in trouble for the mistakes I had made that day.
I sat down in one of the chairs, while he took the other. Even sitting, he held his back straight and his shoulders firm, though he managed to look comfortable even in that position. I wondered how much practice that had taken, or if it was natural to him.
He was swirling his whiskey in his hand and staring at it now, like he was deep in thought, or daydreaming about something distant. It gave me a moment to truly look at him, to notice all the small details that I hadn’t considered during that crazy day.
His face was softer now, and I was sure it wasn’t because of the lighting in the room. It felt as if he’d taken off the mask of The Pacific’s general manager, and was showing me a glimpse of what lay beneath it. The tightness in his shoulders had also seemed to have disappeared, despite his maintenance of perfect posture. He almost looked more human now.
