2

I was a bartender at Silencio, a bar that was a thirty-minute walk from my apartment. I never took a taxi, even when I got off work at almost three in the morning, because it was just too expensive. And there was nothing more peaceful than walking Paris at night—especially in the rain.

It was a busy night at the bar, lots of people in the main room and dispersed throughout the other lounges. Waitresses would wait on those people and bring them drinks and small bites. I stayed at the bar and helped the people waiting for a table. At the beginning of the night, it was usually young people who’d just gotten off work and needed a drink after a stressful day. As the night passed, it turned into romantic dates. And then around midnight, different characters came in, rich men who wanted a place to drink in peace.

I’d adopted a habit of constantly scanning down the bar to see if anyone else needed a drink, and while my gaze wandered, I spotted him come through the door.

I gripped a bottle by the neck and halted where I stood. Holy fuck.

The second he entered the room, he disturbed the air around him. I wasn’t sure what I noticed first, the fact that he was tall as fuck or hot as fuck. He had to be at least six foot three, but that might have been a conservative guess. He wore only a black t-shirt even though it was a rainy night, and he filled it out better than any mannequin at the mall. Thick shoulders and muscular arms, the kind that had veins so strained they looked like they were about to pop. He carried himself like he was important but also with an I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude. He had black ink everywhere, visible on both of his arms and on his hands, and even up his neck to his jawline. I’d never felt any particular way about tattoos, but I’d also never seen a man wear them so well.

He seemed to be alone because he moved to the only vacant chair before he took a seat, and the light from the bar behind me illuminated his beautiful and rugged face. I’d only been working at Silencio for a couple weeks, so perhaps he was a regular I’d never encountered before.

I continued to stand there with my fingers on the neck of the bottle, the rest of the patrons at the bar absorbed in conversation, my attention on the man who made my hair stand on end just because he’d stepped into my space.

The only pretty feature about him was his eyes. Crystal blue, like the waters along the white shores of a tropical paradise, more brilliant than the sky on a clear day. But the rest of his face was harsh, with sharp cheekbones, a jawline that could cut glass, and a mouth that looked like it could do more damage than a bullet from a gun.

His elbow rested on the counter as his fingers gently grazed his jawline, veins popping. He glanced at the menu that sat there but didn’t seem to read it, like he already knew what he wanted. Then his eyes shifted to me, the confidence so striking it was like staring straight into the sun.

Oh my lord.

I was still holding the neck of a wine bottle, and I finally returned it to its holder behind the bar and walked over, my heart like a frog in my throat, so intimidated by his appearance that I wasn’t sure if I could wait on him. “What can I get you?” It took all my strength not to stumble over my words, not to make a complete idiot out of myself and just act natural.

He stared at me for a solid three seconds, his blue eyes not needing to blink, having way more confidence than I did. “Scotch, on the rocks. Make it a double.”

“You got it.” I pulled out the bottle and made the drink.

He didn’t watch my hands as I prepared the drink. Stared straight at my face. Still didn’t blink.

I presented the drink to him. “Lemme know when you need another. I’ll be around.” I turned so I wouldn’t see his reaction, knowing I needed to put as much distance between us as possible. He was so distracting that I wouldn’t be able to finish up my shift if I continued to look at him. The fantasies were already passing through my mind, and I told myself it was only because it’d been a while since I had any dick.