A vow of hate

FOUR YEARS AGO

HAZEL

“What would you like to have sir?” I asked the man at the bar, clasping my hands together.

He glanced up at the sound of my voice, and inched closer to the bar table separating us. I didn’t fail to notice the subtle confidence in his gait. He took a seat with a quiet assurance. “A Macallan 18 please. Double, Neat.” He finally answered.

I felt my body go warm at the sound of his voice. It was deep, and manly and sounded just right. Not a lot of people could pull that off. “Coming right up.” I nodded at him, turning my back to pick up the bottle I had cleaned just the day before. It was our most expensive bottle, and I wasn’t surprised that he was ordering one. He looked rich, the watch on his wrist was all the confirmation I needed. The room was hot, too hot for comfort. And I suspected it had everything to do with the man in front of me. I could swear the room had been freezing cold right before he walked in. The air conditioning was on full blast, but I could still feel the sweat trickle down my back. I bit my lip and silently prayed I wasn’t sweating through my cheap white shirt.

I finally reached the bottle, and breathed a sigh of relief. I could feel his eyes burning holes through my back, and my suspicions were right as I turned and found his eyes locked on me. I grabbed a glass and poured the drink for him, focusing on the sound of the drink trickling into the glass. “Here you go, sir.” I said and placed the glass in front of him.

“Thank you.” He answered, bringing the glass to his lips.

I nodded and busied myself with wiping down the table, even though it was already sparkling clean. I needed the distraction, or I wouldn’t know how to act. But despite myself, I found my eyes flitting over to his face.

God! He was perfect!

His face was clean shaven, and his moustache fit him perfectly. His chiselled jaw looked like it was sharp enough to cut through stone, he was one of those men who were definitely created by the Greek gods, and his lips… my eyes widened as he licked the drink off his lips, and I felt like I would faint. Everything about this man was smooth. Sexy. Even his voice. Definitely the way he licked his lips after taking a sip. But despite him being my only customer, I stayed quiet as he swirled the amber liquid in its glass. I’d been bartending since I turned twenty-one, and I’d learned these last two years to let the patrons do the talking. No one wanted a bartender who couldn't shut her mouth—especially in a classy hotel like this. Especially when I was as far from classy as you could get.

My black slacks and white button-up shirt didn't have a stitch of natural fiber—just a synthetic blend that was uncomfortably affordable. My tattered heels had gotten a few new scruffs tonight, ones that I’d cover with a sharpie when I got home.

“Is it always this empty?” He suddenly asked.

“Huh?” I asked, my cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He must have caught me staring at him.

“The bar, is it always this empty?”

“Oh…” I glanced around. “It’s not usually this empty, but it’s a Monday, Mondays are kinda slow.”

“Lucky me then, I get to have your full attention.”

My eyes shot up to his. Was he flirting? It sounded like he was. I should flirt back. Right? I stared right back into his intense gaze, watching a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. “Yes you do. Would you like anything else?” I slowly asked.

The smile remained on his lips as he answered. “Just your name.”

My eyebrows shot up without warning, I was amused at his confidence and straightforwardness. “It’s Hazel.” I offered him a smile in return.

“Christian.” He answered, his gaze remaining on me for a moment longer than expected.

The exchange lingered in the air, a subtle tension woven between us as we stared at each other. The ambient sounds of the bar faded into the background as all my senses became infiltrated by his presence. “You seem like you’ve got stories to tell, Christian.” I said, putting on my most sensual voice.

Christian chuckled softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “A few, but I’m more interested in hearing yours.” He replied, standing up.

“Hmm..” I mused, following his movement with my eyes.

“I’m sure you get this question a lot in your line of work, but do you drink whiskey, Hazel?”

"I don't drink whiskey." I answered, trying to ignore the flutter in my heart. The way he said my name, I’d never heard anything sexier than that.

"Hmm." He took a long, slow sip from his glass, then set it down. I followed the movement of his Adam’s apple with my eyes. "That's a shame. A beautiful woman drinking whisky is my weakness."

I’d heard a lot of pickup lines standing behind this bar, and I had mastered the art of turning down a man without bruising his ego —or losing his tip. But I’d be a fool to dodge that line. "Then maybe I'll give it another try."

“Good.” He nodded in content. “I’d like another drink, Hazel.” He said, taking a large gulp of his remaining drink. His hands reached into his pocket and my eyes followed the movement slowly, he pulled out something and slid it across the table to me. It was a key card… the key card to his room in the hotel. “Maybe you’d like to bring it up to my room…”

He wasn’t asking. He was just saying. Usually, that would upset me. But there was something about this man that made my body respond in ways I never imagined. I was pretty sure if he said “jump” I would ask “how far?”.

I covered the key card with my hand, looking around inconspicuously to make sure nobody noticed the exchange. “Coming right up sir.” I answered as he walked away with a satisfied smirk.

And suddenly I could breathe again. The room went back to its normal temperature; cold and controlled. I looked at the card below the counter. Room 108. It was one of our most expensive suites. I could feel the nerves slipping in, but the excitement bubbled just below them. I couldn’t back down now. What would he think of me? And I didn’t want to back down, I couldn’t deny that fact.

I quietly slipped to the back room and into the bathroom, washed my face and put on a new shirt, one that wasn’t damp with my sweat. I put on some deodorant and applied lipstick on my lips, then I walked back to the bar and took a bottle of his drink with two glasses, one for myself. I needed the buzz if I was going to pull this through.

Christian was seated in the living area of his room when I walked in. He had taken off his suit jacket and was only in his shirt and pants now, and I could see the muscles in his arm clearly now. It was obvious that he worked out. He poured me a drink like the perfect gentleman that he was. We talked some more, and with each question, we seemed to move an inch closer to each other. Soon enough, his arm was sliding up my skirt, his tongue on my neck. I felt the heat in every part of my body, his kisses felt like fire, and I never wanted him to stop.