“I was in love with a completely different Gabriel. The guy who would bring me sunflowers in the morning and walk me to school. That Gabriel no longer exists. He hasn’t for a very long time. Who he is now? I can’t be entirely sure, but I think you’re right to worry about him.”
Belle offered her friend a sad smile. “Maybe you should add that to your dating profile? Requirements: living parents.”
Cynthia laughed, “Seriously. If you meet a guy and his parents are dead, run. Run as fast as you can.”
Cynthia brought her face closer to whisper. “Don’t judge, but even after all I went through with him, he still does it for me. Maybe I should take one for the team. I’ll call it a sympathy fuck. I can even finish with ‘Belle says hi’,” she finished with a wicked smile.
Belle couldn’t help but laugh at her best friend.
By the time Friday night rolled around Belle was exhausted. Her classes had only started last week, but she could tell this semester was going to be brutal. And the incident with Gabriel still had her concerned. The more she thought about it, the more threatened she felt. Gabriel had always made advances towards her, but he had never forced his mouth on her in the past. She had a sinking feeling her constant refusal was beginning to push him over the edge.
Pierre’s hard work had paid off; the bar opened for their Friday happy hour and burlesque show for the first time since the flood. Her father owned the place, but like most of the younger women in town, Cynthia included, Belle was on the payroll. Their small town offered few places for employment and with the male to female ratio being 5-1, Lily’s was the place to work and socialize.
Belle tied her apron around her waist and slid behind the bar, her regular weekend station. She liked to dress in the burlesque theme on weekend shifts; a dark blue corset dress with a black lace overlay, sheer black thigh highs, and her favorite black four-inch stilettos, she could easily have been mistaken for one of the girls on stage. Her only bartender tells were a messy ponytail and an arm band holding a bottle opener.
The power chords of a classic rock song poured from the sound system. Two women Belle had gone to high school with, known as “the twins”, took to the stage. Though Laura and Paula were not related, the two busty brunettes were similar in both looks and personalities. They used the similarity to their advantage, playing on an age-old male fantasy. Rumor had it they tended to earn better tips than some of the other girls because of it.
The two took turns performing their best catwalk, pausing to gyrate against each other with each turn. What they offered wasn’t exactly burlesque, but the crowd hooted and hollered with each suggestive lip lick and hip thrust.
Surprisingly, the only guy who seemed disinterested in what they had to offer was Gabriel, who they constantly threw themselves at. She’d heard from both Laura and Paula that they had shared him a number of times in the past, but from the looks of it every time they were around him, each would have preferred to have him to herself. It was obvious Gabriel only used the two for his own pleasure, yet they still kept at him.
As the music died, the crowd roared and whistled. As usual, the twins ended their performance with a full blown, opened-mouthed kiss. Belle rolled her eyes at the way they often portrayed themselves. She hated how they were desperate for male attention and did most anything to generate it.
“Looks like things are back to normal,” her father said, placing a tray of empty glasses on the bar. “Better than normal, even. We’ve got people waiting outside to get in. Maybe the flood wasn’t so bad after all.”
Belle smiled. “Way to look at the silver lining, Dad. Don’t forget, we still have a long way to go before this place is back to what it was. Here’s hoping we can make enough tonight to keep the landlord from kicking us out.”
Pierre waved his hands in the air as if to brush off her pessimism before kissing her on the cheek and leaving for the night.
The lights dimmed as the notes of a familiar tune filled the room. Cynthia’s first performance was next. With her blonde hair and killer legs, she was the main attraction and drove the men wild. Whenever Cynthia was onstage, Belle made a point to take a break from her barmaid duties. Cynthia commanded the room’s attention, so few ordered drinks while she performed anyway.
The spotlight lit up the slit in the curtain where Cynthia seductively rolled her hips as she shimmied down and back up. Whistles started.
Depending on the mood and the crowd, Cynthia often sang as part of her performance — tonight was one of the nights she chose to. Microphone headset on, she belted out the first few bars of a song she’d once told Belle made her think of dangerous, forbidden sex. Belle often found herself enamored with Cynthia’s ability to captivate the entire audience.
As Cynthia began to walk towards the front of the stage, Belle caught a brief look of shock on her face as she stutter-stepped. Recovering quickly, Cynthia continued, but her gaze was decidedly fixed on the front door.
She never messes up. Belle looked in the direction of Cyn’s gaze and her breath caught in her throat. A man she had never seen before stood in the doorway with such a sense of dominance she couldn’t breathe. To make matters worse, he was staring directly back at her.
She could feel his eyes burning through her from across the room. His shoulders took up the entire frame of the doorway. His dirty blond hair ended just past his ears and was brushed back, yet messy — as if his fingers recently brushed through it. Her eyes followed the gentle taper of his body to his waist. He wore dark jeans and a grey sweater over a white collared shirt with the sleeves pushed up his forearms. Even in the dim lighting, she could see the definition of the muscles in his arms.
It was as if Cynthia’s siren song for “dangerous sex” had been summoned in the flesh.
Belle’s pulse raced. She couldn’t recall ever having been so immediately captivated by anyone in her entire life. Grasping the bar frame behind her for support, she struggled to slow her breathing. A tingle formed below her waist from his scorching gaze. The way he looked at her, he was … predatory.
“Hey, can I get some service here?” a voice from down the bar chastised her.
“Just a sec,” she replied. Get a grip, Belle.
She managed to break herself away from his gaze and reached for a glass. As she pulled a beer from the tap, she watched the man take a seat in a booth hidden in the back of the room.
The music ended and the room erupted in applause and whistling. Drink orders came pouring in once again and Belle was forced to return her attention to her job.
Once the crowd had thinned a little, Cynthia plopped down at the bar. “Who the hell was he and where did he go?” Cynthia asked, breathing heavily as Belle handed her a water.
“No idea and table six. Have you ever seen him before?” Belle asked, already knowing the answer.
“No! I almost jumped off the stage when he walked in.” She glanced towards the booth as she continued. “I think I’ll welcome our new friend. Want to join?”
Belle gave her a sarcastic impression. “I don’t think even he would get me to pull a ‘twin’ job. Good luck though. Fill me in tomorrow.”
Belle never doubted Cyn’s ability to get what she wanted. When Cynthia turned on the charm, no man could resist her.
Another performer took to the stage and for the moment, Belle had no drink orders to fill. She took the opportunity to wipe down the bar top. A warm, masculine hand covered hers.
Gabriel.
“What do you want?” she huffed, trying to remove her hand from underneath.
“You,” he stated, refusing to let it go.
“To drink?” she countered as she pulled away. I need to learn to phrase my questions more appropriately.
“I could drink you in all night, sweetheart. But for now, I’ll take a beer.”
Like vultures spotting a rotting corpse, the twins slithered out of the darkness and headed towards the bar. Once they got to him it would take a while before he could get away. Perfect. Time to get back at him
for his stunt earlier this week.
“You know, Gabe,” she started as she poured the draft, purposely keeping him at the bar long enough for the twins to reach him, “maybe a small taste wouldn’t be so bad.”
His eyes darkened as she licked the rim of the mug where the head overflowed.
“Mmmm, mind if I swallow?” Belle took a long gulp allowing her hand to trace down her stomach.
Gabriel shifted in his seat, eyes narrowing as he licked his lips.
Belle placed the mug in front of him and leaned forward over the bar.
“You know what I really want?” she said, her voice low.
He leaned in. “What’s that, sweetheart?”
The twins were only about five feet away, one on each side. She pulled the front of his shirt so she could whisper in his ear, “To watch you squirm your way out of this, jackass.” She leaned back as Laura wiggled her way onto his lap with Paula grabbing his hair from behind.
“Hey sexy,” Paula purred. “Let us take care of you.”
“Hmm, seems like you’re as excited to see us as we are to see you,” Laura cooed as she visibly grabbed his erection.
Gabe gave Belle a death stare before turning his gaze and wrapping an arm around the girls. “Well, good evening, lovelies, how are we doing today?”
With his attention elsewhere, Belle laughed as she moved to the other side of the bar. They’ll keep him occupied for the rest of the evening. To her surprise, a few minutes later Cynthia walked over, disheartened.
“I need a martini and a Valium to erase the memory of striking out,” she whimpered as she sat down.
“You’re lying!” Belle was in disbelief.
“Not lying. Make it filthy.” Belle started her drink skeptical Cynthia couldn’t seal the deal. She looked up to share a smart remark when Cynthia’s wicked smile caught her attention. “He wants you.”
“What kind of drink does he want?” Belle asked, misunderstanding.
“Not a drink. He wants you to go talk to him.”
“What do you mean?” Belle’s heart raced again as she almost dropped the glass. I’d have no idea what to say to him. Hell, I don’t even know if I would remember how to talk being so close.
“I walked over asking if it was his first time here. He’s not very vocal; yes, no. I was about to sit when he asked ‘who the bartender is’. I told him your name and that you’re the owner’s daughter. He then asked if ‘I wouldn’t mind sending you over’. So here I am, and there you go.” She reached across the bar and took her drink, downing half of it in one gulp. “For the record, I’m expecting lurid details.”
“He seems so intimidating,” Belle added quietly, shivering at the thought of being near him.
Cynthia exhaled. “Wait till you’re closer. I swear just his voice could make me orgasm.”
Cynthia sensed Belle’s nervousness as she continued, “Belle, you’ll be fine. You’re going to talk to him, not ask him to marry you. Just ask him what he wants to drink. Besides, you look smoking tonight.”
Belle looked down at her outfit, glad she had chosen this particular dress tonight as it played up her best assets without being over-the-top.
“Seriously, you look hot, doll. Go get him!”
It seemed her body made the decision for her as she felt her legs moving; the gravity of him pulling her near.
“I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder to the other bartender as she untied her apron and tossed it onto the bar. Her skin prickled with anticipation.
With each step, she focused on her breathing and tried to calm her pulse. She took stock of him as she neared. He sat near the edge of the booth, looking down, playing with a napkin between his fingers. His large hands reminded her of bear paws. As Belle processed the slight stubble on his face, she knew she had never seen a sexier man. He looked up and again she was dumbstruck.
When she reached the table, he stood. Over a foot taller, Belle had to look up at him. Long, dark lashes surrounded a set of deep blue eyes. Fucking hot and a gentleman? Take me now.
“Sit,” he commanded, gesturing towards the booth. Belle couldn’t help but obey his husky voice. Cynthia’s right. I think if he asked me to orgasm right here on the spot I would happily comply.
“This is your bar?” he asked as he sat down across from her.
Belle swallowed hard before she could answer. His eyes, incredibly vibrant up close, held her mesmerized in his gaze.
“Yes. No. I mean not yet. It’s my father’s bar, but I’ll be running it one day.”
“It’s … interesting,” he said with a slight accent. Russian.
“Interesting usually has a negative connotation.”
He looked around for a moment before turning back to her, lips set in a straight line. “It’s not as … polished as I would have expected.”
Protective of her father’s bar, she explained, “Well, we shouldn’t even be open yet. The storm destroyed nearly the entire inside, but after weeks of being closed we needed the income. Our asshole of a landlord is trying to kick us out.”
She looked around, forlorn at what it used to be. “You should have seen it a few weeks ago. It was beautiful. Blacks and reds, lace and silk, it could have given any Parisian burlesque club a run for their money.”
She looked around in dismay at the hodgepodge of refurbished stools and waterlogged high tops, the makeshift curtains. “Hopefully we’ll draw enough business back to really fix the place up again.”
“That would be a real treat,” he said, with a hint of boredom, or possibly sarcasm in his voice.
Is he mocking me? Belle snapped her head back towards him.
“Well, you called me over for a reason, and as I’m the bartender I’m guessing for a drink.” She stood and stared down at him. “So what would you like?” Her tone came out more curtly than she intended, but she didn’t take lightly to insults, perceived or otherwise.
He stood up from the booth. “I don’t want a drink.”
As he stood over her, she marveled at his size. His towering height combined with the enormity of his build this close to her had her nearly panting with desire. Can’t be natural.
Belle caught him looking into her cleavage for the slightest of moments. Guess standing up doesn’t make you a gentleman after all.
“Are you from around here?” Belle caught him off guard with her question.
“No.”
“Then why’d you come?” She crossed her arms over her chest as her irritation grew. She met countless men like him before, covetous jerks who wandered in expecting a one-and-done with one of her friends. Or her.
“Excuse me?” he asked, with a puzzled look on his face.
“You’re not from around here, you look around like you can’t stand the place, you don’t want anything to drink, you’re not interested in the show, so what gives? In my experience, men like you are only looking for one other thing. Hear me loud and clear, none of my girls are for sale.”
He paused for a moment, studying her, before remarking, “You think I need to pay for sex?” The gravelly rumble of his laugh was intoxicating. For a brief moment, she imagined him laughing near her ear as he teased her, his warm breath against her skin. She shook the image quickly as she shrugged.
“Considering you traveled to come out to my interesting bar, perhaps you’ve built a reputation for yourself near home.” She continued, patronizingly, “I hear it happens a lot to guys who use steroids — everything is large except the part which matters.”
She stared directly into him.
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t use steroids. This is all me, kotik.”
“All natural, huh? Perhaps then you really are just … unfortunate below. Bad luck, kotik,” she mocked him, even though she had no idea what the word meant.
His lips played in a smile before his tongue darted out to lick them. “None of the women I’ve been with have called it unfortunate.”
“That you know of.”
“That
’s why they all return, begging for more?” He raised his brow at her as he spoke.
“Oh, please,” she answered, rolling her eyes. Such an ass.
“Please, Aleksandr.”
“Please, Aleksandr, what?” she mimicked, unsure what he referred to.
He leaned forward with a cocky half smile. “Just wanted to hear how it sounded coming from those luscious lips of yours.”
Blood rushed to her cheeks from the adrenaline of both her irritation and arousal at his molten irises boring into her. She didn’t know why he affected her so much. Her breathing quickened as she sensed his gaze changing to something different, darker. It continued to intensify with each passing moment.
The sensual music playing in the background heightened her desire for him. His eyes, his lips, his body. The tension too much, she needed to leave before she did something she would regret.
“I, uh, have to get back.” Her breath caught in her throat and it came out as just above a whisper. Before she could move, he placed his hand on her arm. The sensation of his touch sent an electric current through her and she involuntarily shivered.
“You can do whatever you want.”
Belle couldn’t help but imagine a double meaning in his words. Oh, God, he knows I’m attracted to him. It’s so obvious. This is humiliating.
“Yes. And I want to take care of my patrons.” She spun on her heel, but it caught in the carpet. One of the many remnants of storm damage not yet restored. She started to stumble forward when he caught her, pulling her into him so she didn’t hit the floor.
Belle lost her focus to the rock-hard chest underneath his sweater and the deliciously earthy scent of him. He held onto her as she looked up and drew in a breath which forced her chest closer into his. At the feel of him against her breasts, she let out a small gasp. He tightened his grip on her ever so slightly as he leaned to whisper in her ear, “Good luck with your bar.”
He held her for a moment longer before releasing her, walking towards the door, and disappearing outside.
Holy hell! Belle took a breath, trying to compose herself. She made eye contact with Cynthia on the way back behind the bar.
Stealing Beauty (Fairy Tales After Dark Book 1) Page 2
