Page 4 of Paolo DeLuca
Chapter four
“Gino!”
Lyric Mason yelled over the Hip Hop music blasting from the speakers in the empty club. She’d been working at Night Shade for a little over a week. She enjoyed times like this—the peace of the absence of guys coming on to her, making crude comments and outright soliciting sex. She hated that shit, but the owner paid good as hell. More than she’d ever made on any of the jobs she held before. With her paintings not selling as much, she needed something to help put herself through art school. Her parents didn’t have her back, and her grandparents—who didn’t have much—raised her. They helped all they could, but Lyric didn’t want to inconvenience them, they’d done enough. And now with only her grandmother living, she wouldn’t dare ask for help.
Every night at Night Shade was crowded. Most nights she worked, she brought home hundreds in tips. The money was good, and every penny she made went to bills and school. But she wouldn’t give up. Lyric believed that one day she’d sell out galleries, and people would clamber for her paintings.
“Yo!” Gino yelled as Lyric searched for the new tumblers.
She stood when he settled on one of the bar stools. “Where are the tumblers that came in today? I thought you said Ross put them under here.”
Gino nodded. “He did. They should be in the box.”
Lyric shook her head and put her paint-stained hands on her hips. “You mean he didn’t unpack and wash them?”
Gino shrugged. “I guess not.”
She dipped underneath the bar again, pulled out a box labeled ‘fragile’ in bold black letters, and set it on the table. “Give me your knife.”
Gino eyed her but reached for his side, then placed his knife in her outstretched hand. “And how did you know I had a knife?”
Lyric smirked, shaking her head. “I’m not stupid, Gino. I know about the DeLucas.” She pulled the knife down the center of the box where the flaps met. “But I’m also observant. I know you keep a gun at the small of your back and one at your ankle too.”
A slow smile graced her lips as she watched Gino’s mouth drop open. “Well, if you know about us DeLucas, then you know why.”
“I do.” She dipped her head in acknowledgment, taking each glass out of the box. She knew why, although she hadn’t seen Gino's criminal or savage side since she’d worked there. “But if you ask me,” she shrugged one shoulder, “you’re more bark than bite.”
Gino threw his head back and laughed deeply. “That’s because you’re a beautiful woman. There’s no need for us to do anything but lick.”
He bobbed his eyebrows and flicked his tongue. Lyric laughed.
“You’re a mess. Leave me be so I can get back to work.”
“You going home to change before your shift?”
Lyric shook her head. “Nah, I brought my bag in tonight. I’ll change when I finish stocking.”
“All right.” Gino slipped off the stool, sheathing his knife and taking it with him, then headed back down the hall toward the office. He called over his shoulder, “Call me if you need me.”
Gino was the opposite of what she had heard about the Miami DeLucas. If her grandfather Jim were alive and knew she worked here, he would drag her ass out. Lord knew he was probably rolling over in his grave. Her grandmother Sue had always told her the DeLuca men were beautiful savages. But she wouldn’t dare let her grandfather hear her say that. It was their little secret that Lyric had kept until her grandfather passed. But if they all resembled Gino, then her grandmother was right.
Lyric busied herself by washing the new shipment of tumblers and placing them in the drying rack. She counted the wine and champagne they had left and marked them on the inventory sheet.
“We’re running out of vodka and whiskey. I’ll have to go to the stockroom to get those right before we open,” she muttered, marking it on the sheet again. “Now for the beer.”
She bent to count the cases stashed under the bar. The door to the club swung open while simultaneously the bell that hung over the door for when the club wasn’t open to the public rang.
“Sorry, we don’t open until nine,” she yelled without looking up.
“Where’s Gino?”
The deep baritone rang out over the music, running up and down her spine. She stood abruptly, her eyes wide as she stared at the newcomer. Her words caught in her throat. Brooding and mysterious, he stood in his expensive suit, with olive skin, dark eyes, coal-black hair, and a full beard and mustache.
Good Lord, he’s beautiful.
“I said where’s Gino?”
The man stared straight into her soul. Or at least it felt like he was. Lyric didn’t trust her answer wouldn’t come out as a squeak, so she pointed down the hallway. He made his way past the bar and down the hall. She couldn’t help but follow him with her eyes until she could no longer see him. Lyric shuddered. She didn’t know who he was, but he may have been the finest man she’d ever seen in her life.
As she continued to work, she occasionally peeked toward the hallway to see if her mystery man would grace her with his presence again. Before long, she had counted all the beer, and she had just enough time to get changed before the rest of the staff arrived and the doors opened.
Lyric grabbed her bag and quickly made her way to the bathroom. She had the inclination to make a detour toward the office for another glimpse at the man. There was something dangerous about him but also sexy that made her want to capture him in all his dark beauty.
She’d been in a slump as of late when it came to adding to her portfolio, however, she had a feeling whose image would be on her mind and in her sketch pad for the next few days.
Lyric flung the door open to the restroom and quickly changed into the fishnets, shorts, lowcut, black tank, and the boots she brought with her. She learned the first few nights if she showed a little skin, the tips were out of this world. Lyric didn’t normally dress this way. She preferred jeans and t-shirts, but she was a starving artist who would do what she needed to make her money while working here.
Now, if she could get the man from earlier out of her head long enough to make said money, she’d be good.
