CHAPTER 7: L’Atelier

VERONICA POV

The elevator dings softly. When the doors open, I run down the hallway leading to the entrance.

Right there I slam straight into a man.

“Oh—sorry, I’m so sorry,” I stammer, stepping back quickly.

“Hey, slow down,” he says, catching my arm lightly. His grip is gentle but firm. “What’s the rush?”

“I… I have a flight,” I lie. My voice comes out too high, almost cracking.

He tilts his head, studying me a second longer. Then, quietly: “I’m Mr. Jules. Does the boss know you left?”

My stomach drops again. Heat rushes to my face.

I shake my head quickly, trying to look casual. “No… it’s fine. I just have to go. My flight’s early and I don’t want to stress him out.”

I force a small, tight smile that probably looks as fake as it feels.

He watches me a second too long. “Want me to drive you?”

“No, no, thank you. I’m good.”

He releases my arm slowly. “Alright. Safe flight, then.”

I nod too many times and hurry past him, feeling his eyes on my back the whole way out.

Outside, I hail a cab and rattle off the name of the club to the driver.

I’ve seen tons of banners and flyers for L’Atelier all over town.

At this point I have no choice. I have to apply for a job there.

I heard they’re hiring new workers for the New Year rush. I hope I get a chance.

I have to do this for Dad.

…

At L’Atelier, I approached the receptionist — smeared red lips, unnecessarily mean.

“What are you here for?” she says, glancing at me from head to toe.

“I’m here for a job application,” I say. “I saw the banner outside. There’s a vacancy for a waiter. I’d like to apply.”

THREE DAYS LATER

“This uniform is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever worn,” I mutter, tugging uselessly at the hem of the tiny skirt.

Diana glances up from her phone and gives me a gentle once-over. “Girl, you’re overreacting. Honestly? It actually looks really good on you. It… brings out your figure.”

I stare at her, eyebrows raised. “Really, Diana? This?”

She softens, stepping closer. “You’re doing it for Dad. Remember?”

I exhale through my nose, shoulders dropping. “You’re right. I know.”

“You’d better get going,” she says quietly. “Or you’ll be late for your first day. You’re lucky they gave you three days off before you resume, so leave early.”

My stomach twists. “I’m so anxious, Diana. Never in my life did I imagine myself working in a bar as a waitress. It still doesn’t feel real.”

She tilts her head. “What part doesn’t feel real?”

I gesture at myself helplessly. “You’re telling me that waiting tables in a club will earn me enough in less than a month to pay for Dad’s surgery?”

Diana reaches out and squeezes my arm. “Veronica… don’t overthink it. Just go. One day at a time, okay?”

I nod, throat tight. “Fine.”

I’m almost at the door when she calls after me. “Wait!”

I roll my eyes but turn back. “What now? I’m already late.”

She grins, practically bouncing. “I almost forgot to tell you!”

My eyes widen, hoping for something good.

“Chill, girl.” She laughs. “Remember when I said I finally set up my gig on Upwork?”

“Yeah…?”

“I finally got a client!” she squeals, jumping a little on her toes. “An Italian woman. She needs graphic and web design work, and she’s willing to pay two hundred bucks per job!”

My mouth falls open. I can’t help it — I jump too. “Oh my God, Diana!”

“I know!” She’s beaming, eyes shining. “It’s finally happening. And whatever I make… it’ll help with Dad’s bills too.”

“Your web3 knowledge isn’t going to waste after all,” I say, laughing through the sudden tightness in my chest.

“Exactly.” She wipes at her eyes quickly. “Told you Dad makes terrible career suggestions. I always knew the medical field was a terrible fit for me. Now I can finally prove it to him.”

I pull her into a quick hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

She squeezes me back. “Go kill it today, okay? And don’t forget to drop lunch off for Mom at the bakery. She’s been stress-eating pastries like crazy.”

“I won’t forget.”

She’s already back on her phone, fingers flying, but she calls after me, “Do a great job, sis. I’m proud of you.”

I’m standing at the bus stop, waiting for a cab. I can feel eyes on me. Of course I can. The crop top is tiny and barely covers anything. My cleavage is on full display, and the skirt is so short I keep tugging at it.

A cab finally pulls up. I give the driver the address and slide in. My heart won’t stop hammering the whole ride.

The bar is farther than I expected from home.

When I arrive, I force a smile for the receptionist.

Madam Heart, the bar manager, greets me like I’m an old friend.

“I’m so excited you’re here,” she says warmly, patting my shoulder.

I manage a real smile this time. “Me too, ma’am. Thank you for giving me a chance to work here.”

“And you look really great in this uniform, sweetheart,” she says warmly. “When the men start coming in at night. Trust me, they come in droves. The crowd here is extremely wealthy. They tip generously. It’s an opportunity you can’t pass up, not when you’re struggling for money like most of us are. This might be the fastest income you’ll see in this economy.”

Heat creeps up my neck, but I nod. She’s not wrong. I need this job more than I need pride right now.

I give a small smile. “Thank you, Madam Heart.”

She beams, then her gaze shifts past me. “Looks like your first customers just walked in. Good luck, sweetheart.”

I sigh and turn to greet the customers, but then I freeze when I see who’s coming.

Jason.