Breaking His Rules (18 page)

My phone vibrated for the sixth time and I growled.
Unlike Giovanni.
He was the ultimate arrogant billionaire bastard and had hounded me for months after our break up. And I was sick and tired of his relentless pursuit of me.
No means no.

Reaching for the phone, I hit the answer button and shouted, “What the fuck do you want?”

An amused female chuckle had me cringing and sitting at attention. “To offer you a job at Sydney’s Bistro & Bar. Good bartenders are hard to come by. But if now isn’t a good time, you can call me back later, Samantha.”

“Sydney?”

A lump formed in my throat and I jumped out of my chair.
Holy shit.
Damon’s sister was on the line. And she was offering me a job—which meant she had talked to Damon. What had he told her? How was he faring? Did his heart feel as though it had been crushed by a boulder? A new rush of tears filled my eyes.

“I’m so sorry.” With the palm of my hand, I wiped my tears away. “I thought it was someone else calling.”

“My brother, perhaps?”

“No, no,” I said, aghast. The high-pitched squeal in my tone pierced my ears and I cringed. “Someone else. I’m really sorry. That’ll teach me to blow up without first checking the phone number.”

“No worries,” Sydney said with a calmness that radiated through the line and set my nerves at ease. “But about that job offer. Is now a good time to talk?”

Butterflies took flight in my belly. Was this the control freak in Damon trying to solve my problems? That would be just like him. He must know I couldn’t survive long without a job, and that my pride would keep me from begging my brother for money.

“Look, I appreciate the offer,” I said. “But you don’t have to do this. Damon put you up to this, didn’t he?”

“Absolutely not,” she said emphatically. “He was only looking for a sisterly ear to bend. Maybe a few hugs. And some reassurance that he isn’t a total asshole. My patrons showed him a little love Monday night. He played beautifully, if a tad melancholy.”

Tears threatened to overflow and the back of my throat burned. I imagined him slumped over the piano next to Sydney with her arm wrapped around his shoulder. At least he had his sister to offer him comfort. I wasn’t ready to talk to Mason and the only other person I was close to was Eric. But he was off limits as well unless I wanted to destroy the employee loyalty for Midnight Blue and its famous rules.

“He mentioned this morning that you quit. And I’m an opportunist,” she said, unabashed. I could imagine the smile spreading across her lips. “I need another bartender. Come join my staff. Even if it’s only temporary. Damon didn’t put me up to this. In fact, he’ll probably tan my hide if he finds out I called you. He’s trying so hard to give you space. And you know what a control freak he is, so that’s saying something.”

I laughed despite my pain and wiped away the tear running down my cheek. “Enough said. I won’t tattle on you.”

“So you’ll accept my offer?”

A part of me wanted to decline immediately because she was Damon’s sister and her bar held sweet memories of my first date with Damon. But I needed a job soon. My savings were next to nothing and I refused to go home. Taking the job on a temporary basis would get me through the rough spot I found myself in. And I wasn’t too proud to admit I needed her help.

“Yes,” I said, chewing on my bottom lip. “Thank you, Sydney. When can I start?”

“Is tomorrow starting at four o’clock too soon? We’re open until midnight.”

Tomorrow was Thursday. Dueling pianos night. Pressing my lips together, I closed my eyes against the pulsing ache in my heart.

Sydney paused and then, as if reading my mind, added, “Damon won’t be there for dueling pianos. He already told me he has a business meeting.”

I silently blew out the breath I’d been holding and welcomed the release of tension. “Okay. Sounds perfect. See you then.”

“Samantha?” Sydney asked, quietly.

Shit.
Now it was coming. The real reason for her call. I could hear it in the tone of her voice. Cautious. Questioning. Perhaps seeking forgiveness in advance.

A cloud of dread gathered around me. “Yes?”

“My mother has about four months to live,” Sydney whispered. “Time is running out, and Damon was trying to make her dream of reacquiring the restaurant a reality. I know what he planned to do was wrong. But sometimes love and desperation drive us to do things we otherwise might never consider. He’s a good man. A good person. Please don’t judge him solely on one stupid decision.”

The line went dead and I sank to the floor in a heap of confusion. My throat convulsed as I fought against the sobs threatening to erupt. Why hadn’t Damon told me his mother was dying?

I pondered that question and my feelings for Damon over the course of the next twenty-four hours. Every waking minute was full of thoughts of him and the moments I cherished. The memories played like a movie in my mind’s eye as I rode the ‘L’ to work.

“You’re a heartbreaker. I’d be a fool to get sucked into your web. And I’m no fool.”

“You undressed me earlier with your eyes from across a crowded room. That tells me you enjoy an evening of pleasure, too. I’m in good company.”

“You’re unchivalrous.”

“But honest. I never promise more than I plan to deliver. I can’t break your heart if we agree to one night upfront.”

Yes. Damon was honest and a straight shooter. I loved that about him. He hadn’t tried to hide the truth about Let It Rayne when I broached the topic and he didn’t sugarcoat the facts. But he fought for what he wanted. And I had to respect that, too.

“Sounds like you need to get to know me better. Go out with me again.”

“You’re still my boss. We really shouldn’t. I promised one more night.”

“Nathan Gates is your boss. I’m not even on the payroll.”

“You’re very pushy.”

“I know what I want. And I’m not afraid to go after it. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Don’t stereotype me, Samantha. I’m not like the other men in your life. You don’t know me well enough yet. But you will.”

The rapid transit came to a stop, jerking me out of my daydreams. With my list of pros and cons weighing in my pocket, I hopped off the ‘L’ and headed toward Sydney’s Bistro & Bar. Damon and I shared a short history together but I’d spent enough time with him to know my heart. He wasn’t at all like the other men in my life. He was everything I’d ever wanted in a man. Humorous. Down to earth. Sexy. Confident. Controlling in bed, yet a generous lover. Fair. And most of all trustworthy. My steps felt a bit lighter and I smiled. Tomorrow I would go see him and we would talk.

My phone rang and I answered it without a care. The sun was out. I had a new job. And soon I would have Damon back in my life.

“Hello?”

“Don’t hang up,” Giovanni said. “I only need a moment of your time and I promise you want to hear what I have to say.”

I groaned inwardly and, for a brief moment, I considered hanging up. But the sooner I responded, the sooner the call would be over. We needed to hash out our shit one last time so he finally got the message that I wasn’t interested.

“What do you want?”

“To say goodbye,” he murmured. “Forever.”

With the street traffic whizzing by and pedestrians pushing past me on the sidewalk, I could barely hear him. Giovanni wasn’t the kind of man that murmured or whose voice betrayed his emotions. Still, sadness echoed in his tone. I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at the screen. Giovanni’s name and number stared back at me. So I wasn’t daydreaming. Perhaps I was in a state of shock, but I wasn’t dreaming.

“Damon and I have come to an agreement,” he continued, his manner suddenly brisk and all business. His voice strong and sure. Whatever he had to say was serious and he wanted me to know it, because he’d used that tone of voice often enough in our relationship. “Rest assured, I won’t contact you or your family in the future. Antonio is taking over your father’s account. It’s all settled. I wanted you to hear it directly from me.”

I was speechless.
Damon and I have come to an agreement.
And just like that Giovanni was out of my life. Forever. The man was a filthy bastard, but he had a code of ethics he adhered to strictly. And if Giovanni said he would not contact me, then I believed him. But at what cost?

“What agreement?” I asked, holding my hand against my free ear to block out the noise around me.

Damon had promised to talk to Giovanni, and even after the way I’d treated him, he’d carried through with his promise. Somehow, I knew that whatever he’d agreed to, I would never be able to repay him. Giovanni did not back off without adequate compensation.

“That’s not your concern, dolcezza,” Giovanni said.

The endearment grated on my nerves but I held back a sharp retort. He was saying goodbye and I wanted it over as quickly as possible.

He cleared his throat. “You don’t believe it, but I loved you, Samantha. With every fiber of my soul. I hurt you and I’m sorry for that. In all my life that is my one regret. I won’t contact you. But if you ever need me, you have my number.”

My mouth fell open at his admission.

“Goodbye, Samantha.”

And before I could say goodbye the line went dead. It was his way of leaving the door open for me to contact him in the future. Even if he knew I would never take him up on the offer. My nightmare was finally over.

Relief flooded me.

It took me a moment to realize I’d passed by Sydney’s Bistro & Bar and I doubled back to the entrance. I only had five minutes before my shift started but I desperately wanted to contact Damon. Tell him I was ready to talk. Tomorrow wasn’t soon enough. I settled on a text and prayed it wasn’t too little, too late.

Samantha:
I still want you, Damon. I’m bartending at your sister’s place tonight. Can we meet up after my shift?

My fingers trembled as I pushed send and waited. Surely he would respond to my message right away if he still cared. The seconds ticked by and I shifted from foot to foot as I leaned against the building. Waiting. Impatient. Nervous. Damon had answered my texts during his business meetings before. Why wasn’t he answering my text? I swallowed and glanced at my watch. Four o’clock.

Maybe he had his phone on silent or this meeting was more important than his last one.
Or maybe he changed his mind and he doesn’t still want me.
I pushed that thought away and entered the restaurant with a fake grin plastered on my lips.

“Hey, Sydney,” I said, stepping up to the hostess station. The place wasn’t crazy like the last time. Yet. Four o’clock was that time of day where bartenders caught their breath and prepared for a shift change. It was too late for lunch but not quite early enough for dinner.

She smiled warmly and ushered me toward the bar. “Glad you could make it! Brad is excited to get a professional behind the bar with him.” Leaning in, she whispered, “Thursday nights are a bitch. It’s our busiest night of the week. Can I take your coat?”

“You won’t hear me complain,” I said, stepping behind the bar and tossing my purse underneath in an open space. After shrugging out of my coat, I handed it to her and looked around. “Is there anything special I need to know?”

“Happy hour is from five to six o’clock when all beer on tap is half off.” Sydney nodded her head toward Brad, who was cashing out a guest at the other end of the bar. “Brad can show you how the kiosk works. But I’m sure you’ll catch on quickly.” The bell above the door chimed and she patted my arm. “There are no rules you need to learn or uniform you have to wear,” she said with a wink. “You’ll do great. Thanks again for coming. I’ll check in on you later.”

My lips twitched at her jest and I shook my head. The rules at Midnight Blue hadn’t been all that bad. She needed to cut Damon slack. His nightclub was all the rage. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out without thinking twice and tapped the screen. But it was a message from Mason. I still hadn’t responded to his last message. It would have to wait until after work. Brad waved me over and I threw on my happy face.

“There’s another black apron hanging on the wall if you want it,” he said with a flick of his head in the right direction. “I’m clumsy sometimes and have ruined one too many shirts and pants. But don’t feel like you have to wear one. As long as we look professional and the customers are happy, then Sydney is cool with whatever we wear.”

“I think I’ll opt out then,” I said, leaning against the back counter while watching him enter his most recent order in the kiosk. It was the same system Damon used at the nightclub. “So, what’s your preference? Split the bar down the middle. Rotate every other guest. Whatever you say goes.”

Brad smirked as he ripped off the customer receipt. “Normally, I prefer to rotate, but something tells me you’ll hold your own tonight. Things get crazy on Thursday nights. Let’s forget about keeping track. Serve ’em as you see ’em and we’ll split the tips evenly. You cool with that?”

“Yes, sir,” I said with a beaming smile. We were going to get along fine.

He rolled his eyes and headed toward his customer while crying over his shoulder, “Sir makes me sound like an old man. Call me Brad.”

I didn’t have a chance to call him anything, because the crowd packed into the place like sardines shortly before happy hour started. It had been a while since I’d worked in a restaurant atmosphere and I found it refreshing—learning the menu—exchanging quick stories with the other waiters and waitress as they dropped off our food orders or picked up their drink orders.

I checked my phone in fifteen minute intervals surreptitiously beneath the counter, but Damon wasn’t responding to my text. Shoving the phone in my pocket, I ran a hand through my hair and blew out a slow breath. He must be busy. That was it. My neck ached with tension and I rubbed it absently for a minute.

“Hey,” Brad said, bumping me on the shoulder. “You okay?”

I nodded and checked the next incoming order before grabbing a beer mug and pouring a draft. My gaze followed the flow of the amber liquid as it slid down the glass and a rich foam formed on top.