Chapter Six

Bryn

“You okay?” Saint asked me as I stopped at the bar to get the tray of beers one of my new tables had ordered.

“Yes,” I lied.

My stuttering hadn’t been that out of control in a while. Rio had triggered it. I hadn’t been okay since I’d walked in tonight to see Rio sitting there. The way he had looked at me in Saint’s office, as if I had become my aunt, was going to haunt me. I wanted to hate him, and maybe I did a little, but not enough.

“Pretty boy keeps watching you, but I’m watching him,” Saint said, as if to reassure me that I was safe.

I knew I was safe. Rio wasn’t here to hurt me. Not physically anyway. Emotionally, he had done plenty, but then in his defense, he believed a lie. One I had told him.

“Rio is harmless. A friend from the past. He doesn’t like that I work here. That’s all. I’m not at their table anymore, and they’ll leave soon enough. It’s fine.” I said all that without stuttering once.

Rio was the only one who could make me stutter anymore, it seemed.

Saint cocked a pierced eyebrow at me. “You’re so fucking naive.”

“Rio doesn’t like me. He might hate me. But he’s not going to hurt me,” I said.

Saint’s gaze shifted back in Rio’s direction, and a scowl darkened his face. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s not hate, sweetheart,” he replied. “Not even close.”

I rolled my eyes at him. He had no idea what Rio thought of me, and I wasn’t about to explain that to him. “He has reasons,” I assured him and took the tray, then headed to the Prince table.

It was the second most-sought-after table in the club. There was a bachelor party seated at it tonight, and the groom did not want to be here. I liked him for it too.

I was thankful they were here for selfish reasons. It kept me busy, and I had no time to think about the pair of eyes following me around the room. I hadn’t needed Saint to tell me I was being watched by Rio. I could feel it. If he wanted me to look back at him, then he was going to be disappointed. Our interaction was done.

“Hey, Angel. It’s Angel, right?” one of the groom’s friends called out too loudly since I was putting drinks down almost directly in front of him.

I turned to look at him, and he gave me a drunken grin.

“Damn, baby, what I got to do to take you home?” he asked.

This wasn’t new, nor was I offended. It was a regular question. Part of the job. “You can always take me in your memories,” I replied with a smile. “Are you boys ready to order some more food?” I asked.

They were laughing at their friend or my response to him.

“Boom! She burned your ass,” one of them said with a cackle.

I knew to wait it out when drunken men started this line of talk. See if they were going to order, and if not, walk away.

“I can give you whatever you want. I’ve got more money than God,” the guy said, leaning forward in my direction.

“Your daddy has more money than God,” one of his friends said, and they all started laughing again.

He didn’t care or look away from me. The wealthy, spoiled, drunk ones were always the wild cards. When they didn’t get what they wanted or their money couldn’t buy them what they wanted, they got angry, or they got bored. I was hoping this one got bored.

“I bet you don’t care whose money it is, do you, beautiful?”

I started to respond when a hand touched my back, startling me. I jerked my head around, ready to shove someone back. Touching was not allowed.

“She’s not fucking interested. How many times does she need to say it?” Rio’s voice sounded on edge.

“Who the fuck asked you?” The guy stood up, shoving the table a little and making his drink slosh over the top.

“Sit down, Jude,” one of the others at the table said.

“She’s just a waitress, man. Stop being an ass,” another said.

Rio’s hand slid to my waist, and his grip firmly tightened, as if he were afraid I was going to be taken at any moment. I started to tell him to let go when his gaze moved to meet mine, and the words got stuck in my throat. It was seven years ago all over again, and Rio was protecting me. The same look in his eyes daring anyone to say another word about me.

“Angel,” Saint’s voice called out, and although I knew he wasn’t happy with the situation, I couldn’t seem to stop this.

“Let’s go,” Rio said.

“Hey, man, where are you taking her? We need more food,” one of the guys at the table said.

I heard them, but my body was currently wanting to obey Rio. I was unable to do anything but stand here and consider leaving with him. When my head knew good and well that couldn’t happen. This job had been our salvation. Rio hadn’t been.

“Take your hand off her.” Saint’s commanding voice snapped my moment of insanity, and I blinked, remembering who I was and what the hell I was doing.

Rio didn’t move his hand, but I stepped away from him.

“I’m sorry,” I said to Saint.

Trix was there then, and she began taking the table’s order.

“Go to the back until I come get you,” Saint said to me, but his eyes were locked on Rio’s.

“I’m f-f-fine,” I said, not wanting to leave the two of them standing there in some sort of face-off.

“Hey, man, think it’s time we move on. Other places to be,” Drake said as he approached us.

I was relieved to see the rest of his party was also on their feet and headed this way.

Rio kept his gaze locked on me. I tried to look away, but he was making it impossible.

“Bryn,” he said my name. Just my name.

But the way he’d said it sounded like he meant more. I knew he didn’t, and if I was being honest with myself, I knew Rio March enough to know this had to do with his conscience. Not me. He felt guilty that I worked topless. Maybe deep down, I wanted him to.

The truth was, it was my sister’s actions that had set this in motion. Yes, he had fired me, but it had been six months, and I had blamed him in the beginning. I didn’t anymore. This situation was one that Tory’s actions had caused. Not his. I wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.

“I think your f-f-friend has the b-b-best idea. Good-bye, Rio,” I said through the strange lump that had suddenly formed in my throat.

I guessed old habits died hard, and Rio was definitely an old habit for me. At least, feeling something where he was concerned was an old habit.

I didn’t wait to see what he would say or do. I had to get distance from him before I did something stupid, like walk out on a job that had given me the first real security in my life.

“Don’t,” I heard Saint’s warning, and I winced.

Although I wanted to turn around, I didn’t. I kept walking toward the back door leading to the offices. Saint was right. I needed to get out of sight until this was over. I didn’t stop until I was in Saint’s office, wrapped back up in his jacket. Then, I stood there and stared at the wall. Remembering a time when I had thought life would be different.

I wasn’t sure how long I had been standing there, lost in my memories, when the door behind me opened. I turned to see Saint walk inside. He paused, and his eyes studied his jacket that I was wearing, then he sighed.

“Who is he?” Saint asked me.

“I told you earlier, I’ve known him a long time, and once, we were friends. Then, I did something that made him hate me. We haven’t talked in six months,” I replied.

Saint didn’t walk any farther into the room. He remained just inside the door. We stood there in silence for several minutes. I didn’t know if I was supposed to say more or if he was deciding on what I would do next.

“He doesn’t hate you, and I doubt you’ve ever done anything to someone to make them hate you. You’re too damn sweet,” Saint said as he came inside and went to sit on the edge of his desk, then crossed his arms over his chest.

“I didn’t do it, but he thinks I did. I took the blame for my sister. Look, I am sorry. It won’t happen again. There are no other guys out there who will care about my working here.”

Saint let out a low chuckle, but there was no amusement in his eyes. “You can get under a man’s skin, Angel. That naivete normally isn’t my thing, but somehow, you make it work.” He held my gaze, his green eyes flashing something I did not want to acknowledge. “I’ve never heard you stutter. Not once, until tonight. He upset you.”

I said nothing. I didn’t want to admit that at one time, I couldn’t speak without stammering over every word. That was another life. I could control my speech now. Most of the time.

“Things are under control out there, and I think you could use a break. Go on home and get some rest. I’ll see you back here on Saturday,” he said, dropping his arms and standing back up. He said nothing more as he headed for the door.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked, afraid that him sending me home meant I could be fired soon.

I had been scheduled to work the next three nights. Now, he was sending me home and acting as if they didn’t need me.

He shook his head. “No, I’m not mad at you. Not fucking happy with myself, but I’m not mad at you.” He paused, then looked at his jacket wrapped around me. “That’s gonna mess with my damn head. Seeing you in my leather,” he added, then opened the door and left me there alone.

I was tired. Physically and, I realized now, emotionally. Going home sounded wonderful. Tonight was the first time I’d had to face someone I knew. I probably could have handled it better if I hadn’t been so worn down.

We had gone six months without running into each other. There was a good chance I wouldn’t see Rio for another six months. That thought both relieved and deflated me.