by Paula Cox
From the look on Christina’s face, though, simple and light were working.
“Liana,” Damien greeted. He waved a fork in her direction. “This wedding is going off without a hitch.”
She smiled and picked up one of his potatoes, chewing it slowly to savor the buttery fluffiness of it. She nearly closed her eyes in pleasure. Liana never ate during these events unless it was on the move. Too many things depended on her ability to solve problems as they sprang up. She didn’t have time to sequester herself in the kitchen unless there was some action in there. Since the chefs had all cleaned up and gone home, it was just her and her two employees. But the success of the evening had made her cocky. She wouldn’t sit down with a plate herself, but she would at least allow herself this moment of rest.
“Thanks, Damien.” Liana smiled. “You know it’s a group effort, though.” She chuckled at the thought of the last wedding they’d worked at when one of the guests had knocked over the roast beef serving station.
Christina chewed another mouthful, nodding thoughtfully. “I thought for sure it was all going to go to shit when the best man groped the bride’s mother,” she said. “But then everyone laughed, and I exhaled so forcefully I thought I’d blow out the candles at the table I was serving.”
“Language!” Liana reminded sternly, yet her mouth dipped up into a smile. “That was a pretty tense moment, though.”
Damien gestured toward the trays of food laid out further down the counter. “You should eat something,” he said. “I don’t remember the last time I saw you with a fork in your hand that hadn’t already been in someone’s mouth.”
Liana scowled at him. “Maybe don’t say it like that to other people. They might get the wrong idea.”
She looked between Damien and Christina, wondering how she could possibly feel so much older than them when they were all relatively close in age. She felt like their grumpy older sister most of the time. Damien’s big blue eyes and dark hair usually made him the fan favorite of the unattached women at these gigs. And many of the attached ones, if she were being honest. He had a button nose and a round jaw, though he towered above most people at a staggering 6’4” and thus could not be confused for a mere boy. Christina had mousy brown hair that Liana had only ever seen pulled back and black, thick-framed glasses. She was going to school for an engineering degree if Liana remembered correctly. Damien, on the other hand, was still figuring out what he wanted to do. And Liana? She knew where she wanted to be in life, but was just struggling to make it there.
“I should be getting back out there,” Liana said. She pointed sternly at the two servers. “Don’t be back here too long. It’s quieting down, but I want to start tidying up the tables in the next half hour or so.”
Damien saluted, and Christina nodded. Liana found that suited both of their personalities. She stepped back through the double doors into the back hallway of the hall, then through the ones that led back into the main party area.
Things were much as she’d left them. She picked up a stray spoon from the floor as she walked through; depositing it on a stack of plates another server was taking back to the kitchen.
The bride and groom were slow dancing in the middle of the dance floor, and Liana couldn’t help but look. She always got a bit emotional at weddings, even after working so many. Perhaps it was because she so badly wanted her own. Who was she kidding? It was definitely because of that. But it was hard to have a wedding without a groom. And it was hard to get a groom when one spent ninety percent of one’s time working or busting one’s ass trying to get singing gigs. But maybe that wouldn’t be her life for much longer. Liana had an upcoming gig in a lounge downtown, and she’d heard that a few talent scouts would be in the audience. If she were discovered and picked up by an agent, Liana would be out of the catering business and into the limelight.
That was the plan, at least.
Liana felt as though she were being watched, and directed her attention to the area around the bride and groom. She jolted in surprise as she found a pair of eyes coolly surveying her from the other side of the dance floor. And the eyes were part of a face so attractive she found her own flushing with embarrassment. She couldn’t be sure why, either. He was the one who was staring at her! She’d only been watching the happy couple dance. That wasn’t a crime, was it?
The man watching her had to be nearly as tall, if not exactly the same height as Damien. His suit looked almost identical to all the other penguin suits in attendance, except it fitted him like he’d had it tailored by elves. He looked to be around the same age as Liana, no more than thirty. His handsome face, with its aquiline nose and what she could already tell were very sensual lips, was framed by dark and ruffled hair. It looked soft.
But that was the only thing about him that looked soft. His cheekbones could have probably cut glass, and Liana was convinced he was using some sort of laser vision on her right now. How else could she explain how hot she felt under his gaze? And why hadn’t she turned away yet? She shouldn’t have been locked in a staring match with some man across the room. She should have been working, for Christ’s sake.
Liana tried to mentally shake herself, but her mind and body were at odds with one another. It didn’t matter how much she told her legs to move, or her eyes to look down, or her skin to stop tingling with tiny zaps of electricity—she was utterly entranced. The sound of shattering glass pulled her out of her hypnosis not a second too late. She immediately redirected her attention to the source of the sound.
A woman in her fifties, face red with inebriation, was laughing like a hyena by a shattered wine glass and a growing spill on the carpet. Damien got there first, but Liana was there soon after. He got down and began cleaning up the glass while Liana directed the woman over to a chair and made sure nobody stepped in the mess.
“So close,” Liana muttered.
Only Damien heard her. He chuckled lightly. “I still think we can count this one as a win,” he said. “It’s not a wedding until somebody breaks a glass.”
Someone tapped on Liana’s shoulder, startling her. She whirled, finding herself to be disappointed that it wasn’t the man from the dance floor. Of course, it wasn’t. She was stupid for hoping it would be in the first place. What was she? A lovestruck teenager?
The man in front of her was around the same age, but that was about where the similarities ended. He was still taller than Liana, but not by much. She was about 5’8”, and this man couldn't have been more than 5’11”. He had what could separately be seen as handsome features—a long, straight nose, wide, expressive eyes, and a square jaw—but somehow they didn’t seem to fit well together on his face. His curling lip was just a little too flat. His eyes just a little too far apart. And it was all topped off with a mop of curly, dark hair that was just a few shades too dark for his face. It looked like it had been dyed. She hadn’t met many men who dyed their hair, but she supposed it was only fair that they should be allowed to if she was.
“Excuse me, miss,” he said. “I was wondering if you could deliver this bottle of champagne to a friend of mine for me?”
She looked at the bottle in his outstretched hands and sighed. She wished he hadn’t put her in this position. Outside food and drinks were prohibited, as they usually were. The couple had paid for an open bar, and in those cases, people didn’t usually try to bring in anything of their own. But now she was being asked to deliver a bottle of champagne to a table?
“I’m not sure that I—”
“Please.” His tone was biting. “It would mean so much to me. It’s his favorite kind of champagne, and he is a dear, old friend.”
Liana narrowed her eyes in thought. If she denied him, he could make a scene. It wouldn’t matter then if outside drinks were allowed or not. All anyone would see was the caterer making a big deal out of a relatively small issue, thus causing a stir for no reason at a wedding.
She sighed. “Yes. I can take it. Who am I delivering to?”
The man’s eye
s lit up with glee, and he pressed the dew-coated bottle into her hands. “That man over there.” He pointed to a man of similar age at a table on the other side of the dance floor. Her mystery admirer, whoever he had been, was nowhere in sight. “His name is Michael,” the man said. “You can tell him it’s a gift from Lando, a cousin from overseas.”
“Sure.” She smiled. “No problem.”
Lando turned and walked away without so much as a thank you. Liana gritted her teeth and looked over to where the recipient of the weird gift was sitting, running a hand through his sandy hair and laughing. He was talking to an older gentleman, maybe his father. Maybe just a stranger. It was hard to tell at these weddings. Everyone was so friendly to one another. It was almost so sweet it was sickly.
“You got this?” she asked Damien.
He looked up from where he was still soaking up the mess on the floor. “I’m nearly done here, yeah.”
She jiggled the bottle at him. “I’ve got to go deliver this.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “Where the hell did that come from?”
“The guy I was just talking to gave it to me.” She gestured to where Lando had gone, but she couldn’t see him. “Didn’t you see him?”
Damien shrugged. “Must’ve zoned out. You know how I get when I’m cleaning.”
“Well keep your eyes up,” she instructed. “The last thing I need is for you to get trampled in the eleventh hour.”
He laughed and saluted her. She smiled and shook her head at the custom. Since she was only the supervisor, and sometimes acted as the assistant manager, she wasn’t really Damien’s boss. That being said, she was given lots of freedom in the company, since her boss knew she was an integral part of his success. Damien insisted on treating her like she was his captain or something like that. It was charming.
Michael’s eyes snapped onto Liana before she even made it to the table. His grin widened, and he gave a little nudge to the older man sitting beside him. Liana pretended she hadn’t seen it.
“You’re Michael?” she asked.
He nodded, eyes swimming with drunken euphoria. “The one and the only. How can I be of assistance?”
He was surprisingly eloquent for a man who had smudged lipstick on his jaw. Liana smiled. “I have a bottle of champagne for you. It’s a gift from your cousin Lando.”
“Lando?” Michael’s brow furrowed. Liana could see the gears working in his mind, trying to put a face to a name. He accepted the bottle anyway, looking at the label with a wide-mouthed grin. “Looks like we’ll be drinking like kings tonight, Herb.”
The old man beside him chuckled. “I’ve had more than enough for one evening, kid. I’m not a young stud anymore like you.”
“Suit yourself,” Michael replied. He turned to Liana just as she was about to leave. “Care to join me?”
Despite his drunkenness, Liana found Michael to be quite charming. And he was cute, too. She’d had less enticing offers in the past, but she was just as much on the clock as she’d been for the past few hours.
“I’m afraid not,” she replied. “Thank you, though.”
He gave her a thumbs up, and Liana was back to work. She scooped up a few empty wine glasses on her way back to the kitchen, where she intended to snag another one of those potatoes. She was starving. Though used to being hungry on the job, Liana was feeling a little indulgent tonight. She’d been stared at by one sexy stranger and hit on by another. The event was going well, too. Damien was right—one smashed glass was hardly a disaster.
Another couple of servers were in the kitchen when Liana went in. These two were less familiar to her. They were seasonal hires and ones that she hadn’t hired herself, either. They quieted as she entered, and nothing had ever made Liana feel more like a wet dish towel. She quickly walked to the tray of potatoes and scooped one out onto her palm, then smiled at the servers and exited stage left.
Liana chewed quickly, not wanting to still have food in her mouth by the time she reached the floor. She wished the kitchen had been unoccupied, so she could have taken a breather for a moment.
Liana stepped back into the room and glanced around. Everything seemed to have cooled down even further in the few minutes she’d been gone. Most of the tables were clear, and people were either dancing out on the floor or slumped next to each other around the tables, laughing or snoozing.
Liana felt that heat again, like someone was watching her, and looked off to the side. It was him again. The dark and mysterious man from across the dance floor. His intense stare seemed to last a lifetime, sending heat flashing down to places she shouldn’t have been feeling heat in while at work.
And then all hell broke loose.
Somebody screamed, and Liana’s attention darted in panic toward the source of it. Michael, who had been perfectly fine moments before, was choking at his table. His face was ashen. Liana bolted for him across the room, pushing people out of the way as gently as she could afford to do.
Chapter 2
Liana’s first aid training kicked in out of nowhere. She hadn’t thought about how to help someone who was choking in a long time, probably not since she’d last renewed her certificate. But now it was at the front of her mind. She needed to get him space. She needed someone to call 9-1-1. She needed to clear the obstruction from his throat if she could, though she doubted she’d be able to perform the Heimlich maneuver on a man of his size. He had toppled over onto the floor by the time she reached him, and he seemed to be... convulsing? People who were choking didn’t convulse.
“Get out of my way!”
The command was so strict that, at first, Liana thought it might have come from her own mouth, except the fact that the voice was far too deep and she was the one being told to get out of the way. Stunned, Liana allowed herself to be pushed to the side as the man who she’d had a staring contest with gathered Michael up in his arms.
“He’s choking,” Liana said. Her voice sounded so small.
Without taking his attention off of the man sputtering in his arms, the stranger said, “On his own vomit, yes.” Roughly, he turned Michael onto his side. It didn’t help the shuddering, through a pool of frothy vomit began to form on the carpet. “He’s dying.”
And it was painfully obvious. His skin was dewy with cold sweat, hair slick where it touched his face. His eyes rolled up to the back of his head. He shuddered, and all Liana could do was watch in horror as the shuddering stopped and he fell limp in the stranger’s arms.
She clasped a hand over her mouth and shot backward, knocking into the legs of one of the onlookers.
“Cliff!” a woman shouted, pushing through the crowd. It was the bride; her eyes streaked with black makeup. “Cliff! Tell me he’s not dead.”
The man—Cliff—looked up with dark eyes. He didn’t need to say anything.
The unearthly wail the bride released rattled Liana’s bones. Her chest was tight with panic, arms rubbery and useless at her sides. A man was dead. Dead. And she’d only just spoken to him a few minutes ago. And now? Now he was dead. She remembered Michael and his lazy, careless smile. She remembered seeing him laugh and joke with the old man at his table. She looked up to see the old man still seated there, staring down in terror. She imagined her expression looked much the same.
“He was poisoned,” Cliff said slowly. He looked up at the table and to the half empty bottle of champagne, next to the half empty glass Michael had been drinking it from. “Nobody touch that bottle!” he shouted. He looked at Liana. “You work here, right? I need you to find out who delivered that bottle. And then I need to speak with them.”
Liana’s heart hammered against her ribs. Oh God. Oh god. Oh God. She tried to open her mouth to speak, but her tongue was rubber.
Cliff’s eyes hardened. “What are you waiting for? Go!”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I—I did,” she said quietly. She didn’t want anyone to overhear. They probably didn’t, since they were all chattering to each other. Most of them were crying. It seemed
the only quiet area was on the ground between Liana and Cliff, where the dead man lay.
Cliff’s jaw tightened, and he jerked his chin toward the doors to the kitchen. “We need to talk. Now.”
She nodded and slowly rose onto shaky legs. He was at her side before she’d even stood up straight. He grabbed her forearm with one of his hands, using it both to hold her steady and drag her through the crowd. It parted for them like the Red Sea. Whoever this guy was, he must have commanded a certain amount of respect from these people. She couldn’t think of any other reason why they would all be so skittish.
Liana wished his grip had been more comforting. His hand was like a vice on her arm, and she had to suppress the instinctual desire to struggle. She feared Cliff. She feared his wrath. She hadn’t poisoned the champagne—how could she have? But he didn’t know that. And he was dangerous. Holy hell was he dangerous. How had she not seen it before? The way everyone looked at him with such reverence. The way he prowled through the room like a tiger, solitary and strong. And now he was dragging her off to places unknown to do God knows what with her.
