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I give Carla a brief look. Her eyes are as round as saucers, but there’s a mixture of emotions swirling through them. Anger, outrage, fear. Frustration aplenty.
“Orry, I—” Carla tries to object, but he waves us both away and goes upstairs.
I’m left reeling and red-faced, wondering how much he actually hear from this conversation. It could be grounds for firing my ass. It would make my dad laugh aplenty. It would make me look like the ultimate idiot. Dammit, Nadia, you and your smart mouth.
Carla takes a deep breath, then grabs her drinks and walks over to one of the tables, eager to entertain other bikers. Well, at least she knows to keep her distance from now on—hopefully. I am beyond embarrassed, however.
So embarrassed, in fact, that when my shift is over, I go straight for the whiskey bottle. I need some alcohol to take the edge off, otherwise I won’t be able to even sleep tonight. One shot. Two shots. By the third shot, there’s only a couple of late nighters left by the pool table, while Paddy is busy locking the beer and soda fridges, occasionally glancing my way.
“Aren’t you going home, kiddo?” he asks at one point.
But I pour myself a fourth shot and give him a wry smile. “Not until I’m hammered enough to call myself a cab.”
“Bad day, huh?”
“You have no idea,” I reply.
Paddy chuckles softly, then goes on about his business, turning the music down in the process, while I’m on my fifth shot and tipsy enough to consider texting an apology to Orion instead of working up the courage to go upstairs and speak to him in person—because the latter is impossible. I’m too ashamed and far too proud. Or scared. Or all three. I’m not sure, but I do know I will never live this down unless I try to make amends, at least.
As I sit in the semi-darkness of a vacant corner booth, my fingers dance across the onscreen keyboard of my phone, my draft message shifts from apologetic and polite to something quite passive aggressive.
Sorry your ex keeps pushing my buttons, I write, then delete the whole thing. Surely, I can do better. But the more I drink, the weaker my reasoning as I start imagining putting my words into action.
Taking the three of them at once. Holy hell, what would that be like?
I meant every word, I write in another tentative draft. I want the three of you taking turns, and then I want all three of you inside me. Not gonna apologize for that, but I do apologize for entertaining Carla’s hissy fit.
There. That sounds better.
I laugh, well aware that I’m never gonna send that message. My phone slips as I try to set it down. I manage not to drop it on the floor, however, and leave it on the table while I pour myself another drink. The last one. I reckon I’m drunk enough to go home, now. I’ll apologize tomorrow. Sober and whatnot. I shouldn’t have played into Carla’s BS with such ease.
Footsteps thud down the stairs, and I raise my gaze from my glass just in time to see Orion as he reaches the ground floor, giving me a hard, dark, and strange look. All of a sudden, my senses are flaring, my spine tightening as tension builds up in my chest.
“Boss?” I mumble, my voice merely a whisper.
“Would you mind stepping into my office upstairs?” he replies.
“Everything okay?”
“Move it. NOW.”
He’s got his sights set on me, and I don’t think I can escape whatever wrath is headed my way.
I take a deep breath and nod once.
The music has stopped altogether. Paddy watches as I walk past him and follow Orion upstairs. It’s so quiet, yet so loud in my own head. But I muddle through because I am responsible for the consequences of my actions. Boy, was I a fool for thinking I’d get off so easy.
I was looking to humble Carla, to get her to back off, and now I’m headed upstairs for what I assume will be an earful.
6
Nadia
As soon as we reach the office, Orion gestures for me to go in first and then closes the door behind me. I can still hear Paddy stacking beer cases downstairs, but up here, it’s different. The atmosphere itself is altogether different, the air so thick I could cut through it with a knife. I hold my breath, patiently waiting for Orion to sit behind his desk and reprimand me for my behavior toward Carla.
I look around, my hands nervously stuck in the back pockets of my jeans while I wait for Orion’s sword to fall down and take my head off—metaphorically speaking, of course.
“Nadia,” Orion says as he finally sits down in his swivel chair.
