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A guy with a guitar arrives. The long-haired crooner sings hits of bygone years. Simone loves it. But partway through his fourth item I sense an emptiness in the room. It’s only been a few moments but I’m acutely aware Talia’s gone. I mutter something to Simone and move.
I catch up with a young waiter in the corridor. ‘Where’s Talia?’
The young man looks both startled and awkward. ‘She’s just finished for the evening.’
Disappointment floods me. ‘She’s not staying till closing?’
The youth fidgets. ‘She was only helping out for a while before she had to—’ He stops before saying anything truly useful. ‘Is there something I can get for you, sir?’
‘No, that’s fine. Thank you.’
I message Simone to apologise for my sudden departure and confirm tomorrow’s meeting time. I know she won’t mind—I’ve stayed longer than she’d have expected me to anyway. Striding towards the gondola, I notice the sky has darkened. The wind’s lifted, whistling around the outside of the building. There’s only one way down from this place and this is one ride I refuse to miss.
CHAPTER THREE
Talia
IN THE SMALL crew room I scoop up my small backpack, shove my apron into it and hurry down the corridor. I can’t get out of here quick enough. I’ve made a massive fool of myself trying to flirt with that guy. He’s more than a guest of the primary, he’s her godson—practically family. Of course he wasn’t a stripper, not in a suit that beautifully made and fitted and from fabric that soft and flattering. Why did I leap to such an inappropriate conclusion?
Because he was half naked and is so stunningly sculpted it was the only possibility to hit me. Yes, I objectified the guy. And no, I don’t usually do that. I’ve avoided guys my whole life. That’s what happens when your ‘charming’ father’s a serial cheater and your co-dependent mother’s a serial sucker—falling for the same type over and over. That kind of example puts a girl off even trying.
But Dain Anzelotti could have corrected me sooner, instead he let me make a bigger and bigger fool of myself until at last he revealed his innate arrogance. He flipped from smoothly amused to steely and silent—shooting me down without uttering a word. I was incinerated on the spot. But he kissed me—the patronising jerk only wanted to hook me in order to feed his endless ego. As if all his supposed wealth wasn’t enough to make him feel special? Once I was on the line he couldn’t cut me quick enough. I need to get out of here before I stomp back to give the entitled jerk a piece of my mind.
The gondola engineer is engrossed in some sports game onscreen and barely notices me waiting for the small passenger cabin that’s coming round on the track. The cabins aren’t huge and it’s a relief to have it to myself. I’ve been customer servicing for hours and this is only a respite before I get to the bar down in town and carry on fulfilling people’s orders. Still hot and flustered, I toss my backpack onto the seat with too much force. It slips straight off and I groan in frustration as my things scatter everywhere. I slump on the seat. There’s no rush to collect everything, I have over twenty minutes to pull it together.
I hear rapid footsteps and hope whoever it is will be polite enough to wait for the next cabin. But a big hand stops my door from sliding shut and the suspension car wobbles as he steps inside. There’s a bumping sensation as the cabin moves over the pulley system. I don’t love the gondola—being suspended high above the jagged edge of a mountain freaks me out a little. But right now I’m more freaked out about the view inside the cabin.
I stare at him in consternation—the entertainment who wasn’t. The self-proclaimed billionaire property magnate. He takes the space on the seat beside me, the doors bang shut and then there’s silence as he stares at my stuff scattered all over the floor.
‘What happened?’ he eventually asks. ‘Did you have a tantrum?’
Stunned, I do nothing as he slides onto his knees in the small space in front of me. He retrieves the items one by one—my comb and a spare hair tie, headphones that I can’t use now to avoid this conversation, coins, my favourite tinted lip balm and some pain relief. He passes each item for me to stuff back into my bag and meets my gaze every time.
It’s immensely irritating that he’s so handsome. That my body is literally melting. What’s with his mixed messages?
‘Thanks,’ I mumble, embarrassed and confused.
The heated intimacy in his eyes bamboozles me. As much as I want to, I can’t look away from him.
‘Why are you skipping out early?’ Having gathered all my gear, he gets up from the floor and sits beside me. ‘Have you got a date?’
I feel myself flushing. ‘Another job to get to.’
‘You often double shift?’
Determined not to let him get to me more, I lift my chin. ‘Triple.’
He doesn’t take his gaze off me. ‘You need the money.’
‘Most of us mere mortals do.’
He nods as if he understands. But he can’t possibly. What does he know of struggling daily for survival? Of responsibility? I’ve been responsible, not just for myself, but for my little sister, Ava, since I was eleven and she was seven. After Dad skipped out and Mum went down a spiral of bad choice after bad choice, I needed to ensure Ava got through school—I had to because she’s gifted. Seriously super smart, but having to shift schools so many times when we were kids impacted her despite her insane IQ and the intense extra study she did. So I worked and when Mum wanted to make one move too many I said no. I took on Ava myself age seventeen and I was super happy to. I wanted her to have the stability she needed—that we’d never had. I still support her now, six years later. And once she’s finished her studies, I’ll focus on my own future.
‘I should have told you I wasn’t the entertainment,’ he says after a long silence. ‘But I was taken by surprise and the temptation to tease you was irresistible.’
‘It was my fault for jumping to conclusions,’ I say stiffly.
‘It seems like you’d prefer I was a booty dancer to a billionaire.’ His smile briefly quirks. ‘Don’t you like me now you know I’m basically made of money?’ He actually shoots me kicked-puppy eyes. ‘It doesn’t usually work that way.’
