Wild Billionaire Romance - Chapter 28: Chapter 28
You are reading Wild Billionaire Romance, Chapter 28: Chapter 28. Read more chapters of Wild Billionaire Romance.
DESTINY
Holy. Hell. It’s the Devil himself.
I didn’t subscribe to religion in the usual sense. But if there was a Devil, a fallen angel whose principal powers were to seduce, then this was him.
I didn’t know his name, but I knew of this particular customer. Over the last couple of nights, he’d come to Lux with his buddy, some big as fuck bearded fellow. Each night, he chose a new table in the VIP section. He was some wealthy high rolling player, but I wasn’t familiar with who.
“Welcome to L-Lux,” I said, my smile faltering as I finally made my way over to table forty-one.
I just knew it was him because of his eyes. Glittering like molten chocolate, promising sin, and other carnal delights. He really was too good looking to be true.
Everyone from the busboys to the other cocktail waitresses to Enri had been chatting about this guy for the last couple of days.
The brooding playboy billionaire. Moody. Rich as Croesus. Handsome as an Angel. Tempting as Lucifer himself.
I was frozen in his onyx stare. I’d never seen such pitch black irises. And I’d been living in Vegas since I was eighteen.
I’d seen and waited on my share of famous people. Beautiful people. Powerful people. Movie stars. Heads of state. Rockstars. You name it.
But none of them held a candle to him. This man. The Devil.
He was breathtaking. Physically perfect. A face sculpted by angels. A body made for sin. Even seated, I could tell he was big and built.
He had wide shoulders and an athletic build. Chiseled features, high cheekbones and a strong jawline that gave him a sculpted look all the mewing males on social media wished they had.
He really did look like a god. That was what Enri had told me when he’d described him.
He sure filled out his midnight colored suit well enough. Like it was made for him. Of course it was.
Rich, remember?
Everyone knew the term handsome as the Devil, but this man, he could have invented it. It wasn't his perfectly symmetrical features. Or those gorgeous, almost black irises. Not his perfectly plump lips or heavenly body either that made him look like the closest thing to the actual Lucifer I’d ever seen.
It was the wildness behind those eyes. The complete and total lack of compassion beneath his glittering gaze. That man could eat me alive.
And that was what frightened me. Not his innate ferocity. But that I was at a point in my life where I just might let him.
Goddamn.
Those impossibly dark eyes seemed to glitter as I stood there with him staring right into my soul. I couldn’t bear it for another minute. I had to look away.
Beside him was another man. Strong, silent, and not unattractive, but I could hardly see him next to Lucifer.
He seemed bored. Weary maybe. He had a look I recognized, and my heart squeezed for him. Like he was lonely or something.
Yeah, right, Destiny. Does he look like a guy who spends his nights alone?
I remembered myself and where I was. The heavy bass from the DJ booth blasted through the club, but I was used to that and tuned it out. The interior lighting was dark, but there was a constant glow from strategically placed bulbs and strips that made it possible to see.
I knew there was a team of professionals who were responsible for the décor. I had no idea how they did it. How they made it dark and not at the same time, but the result was pretty cool.
They changed the color palette every night, and tonight’s theme made the presence of this man even more ethereal. The lights radiated cool, pale blues and whites, making the Devil look even more heavenly.
Shit. What am I doing?
I shook myself from my fanciful reverie.
Oh, right. Work. Lux. Waitressing. On thin ice with Royce.
I dragged my eyes away from the Devil incarnate and smiled at Bearded Man instead. He seemed safer somehow.
Get to work, girl, my inner voice peeped, and I blinked. Hard.
“Excuse me, sorry. Welcome to Lux, my name is Destiny, and I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get for you?” I asked, making it a point to keep my eyes fixed on the bearded man.
“Vodka. Your best. One bottle. Two glasses,” the stern, Bearded Man said.
“Yes, sir. Would you like any ice? Or lemon?”
He shook his head, and I nodded. I felt the Devil narrow his eyes at me, but I walked away without glancing in his direction again.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t see that as a slight and give me a crappy tip. But I didn’t need to worry. How many men like Lucifer over there gave two shits if his chubby waitress looked at him?
I checked on my other tables while I waited for Enri to fill the order for table forty-one, grabbing this and that and ignoring Mr. Royce’s leers as I walked by.
Bottle service was a luxury seldom afforded even among the wealthy party goers of this den of sin.
I was equal parts excited by the prospect, and nervous about going back there. When you worked in hospitality, you dealt with all sorts of people, and I’d been doing this for more than a decade.
Sure, I’d seen a lot. But I had never seen anything like him.
“Destiny, you’re up!” Enri called out, and I hurried back to the bar to grab the tray.
“Ouch!”
I winced as I lifted my arms, the goddamn wire from the corseted top I wore, like every other server there, had started to poke through the material earlier that afternoon.
Just my luck that it finally ripped the rest of the way and was now digging into my right boob.
“You alright?” Enri asked, concerned.
“It’s fine. Stupid corset broke.”
“I have a Band-Aid. Maybe you can wrap it around the wire that’s poking out? But do it after you deliver that bottle and hurry, girl, Royce Rage is on his way,” Enri warned, and I nodded.
“Good looking out.”
I lifted the tray, ignoring the pain in my breast and pasted a smile on my face.
Who the hell still demanded their female employees wear shit like this, anyway?
Only Mr. Royce, or Royce Rage as he we called him behind his back. It was a play on roid rage, since his mood swings mirrored those of those who abused steroids.
All the female staff at Lux Lounge wore deep purple corsets with lace chokers that matched. The pants were moderately better. But they were super tight pants with no pockets or zippers, leaving nothing to the imagination, like at all.
And of course, on our feet were stilettos from hell. Even defying that one code with slightly lower heels, my feet were killing me.
Fuck this fucking uniform.
It was the 21st Century, but we wore purple corsets, skintight pants, and stilettos like we stepped out of some eighties time warp.
My heart started pounding as I carried the tray over to table forty-one. The two men were talking, but I saw the trio of women approaching them and hated that I’d have to interrupt in order to set their order down.
I was so not going to give any attention to the fact all three women were tall, thin, and super hot. If you Googled the exact opposite of me, those three would definitely be featured in your search results.
Thunder roared in my ears, and my stomach twisted in a knot. I had other tables to serve, and I couldn’t stand behind those women forever, so I cleared my throat, murmuring an excuse me when that did not work.
“I thought that was you, Marat,” one of the blondes said, leaning over seductively. “Why didn’t you come say hello?” she pouted.
“Pardon me,” I whispered, trying to ignore the Devil’s stare just as he ignored the woman’s obvious come ons.
Interesting.
“Would you like me to pour?” I asked the Bearded Man who seemed equally uninterested in the trio of women.
“Thank you, Destiny. That would be fine,” he said, and I smiled as he remembered my name.
He dipped his bearded chin, and I realized he was better looking than my first assessment. He couldn’t hold a candle to the Devil over there, but who could? That man wasn’t meant for this world.
He was something else. Devil. Fallen angel. Too damn beautiful to look at for very long.
Bearded Man, though, he seemed dangerous but human. He was enormous, and from my limited experience I took a wild guess that he was the muscle.
Putting on my best professional smile, I placed the glasses and the premium bottle of vodka on the table, sliding the tray to the floor as I peeled off the wrapping and pushed the crystal cork out with my thumbs.
The fallen angel must be important to have a bodyguard, I mused, still not looking at him.
“Marat?” the whiny blonde continued.
“Excuse me, ladies, but I am here on business. Perhaps another time,” the Devil, er, Marat said, dismissing the women without a passing glance.
I felt his attention on me as I poured, placing one glass in front of Bearded Man and one in front of him.
I wasn’t expecting him to touch me, so when his long-fingered hand reached out to brush across my wrist, I jumped.
“Pardon me. Do I make you nervous?” he asked, a grin teasing at the corner of his ridiculously perfect mouth.
“Sorry, um, can I get you anything or do something for you, sir?” I asked, ignoring his question, and lifting the tray in front of me like a shield.
“You know, I believe you can, Destiny.”
Holy. Hell. It’s the Devil himself.
I didn’t subscribe to religion in the usual sense. But if there was a Devil, a fallen angel whose principal powers were to seduce, then this was him.
I didn’t know his name, but I knew of this particular customer. Over the last couple of nights, he’d come to Lux with his buddy, some big as fuck bearded fellow. Each night, he chose a new table in the VIP section. He was some wealthy high rolling player, but I wasn’t familiar with who.
“Welcome to L-Lux,” I said, my smile faltering as I finally made my way over to table forty-one.
I just knew it was him because of his eyes. Glittering like molten chocolate, promising sin, and other carnal delights. He really was too good looking to be true.
Everyone from the busboys to the other cocktail waitresses to Enri had been chatting about this guy for the last couple of days.
The brooding playboy billionaire. Moody. Rich as Croesus. Handsome as an Angel. Tempting as Lucifer himself.
I was frozen in his onyx stare. I’d never seen such pitch black irises. And I’d been living in Vegas since I was eighteen.
I’d seen and waited on my share of famous people. Beautiful people. Powerful people. Movie stars. Heads of state. Rockstars. You name it.
But none of them held a candle to him. This man. The Devil.
He was breathtaking. Physically perfect. A face sculpted by angels. A body made for sin. Even seated, I could tell he was big and built.
He had wide shoulders and an athletic build. Chiseled features, high cheekbones and a strong jawline that gave him a sculpted look all the mewing males on social media wished they had.
He really did look like a god. That was what Enri had told me when he’d described him.
He sure filled out his midnight colored suit well enough. Like it was made for him. Of course it was.
Rich, remember?
Everyone knew the term handsome as the Devil, but this man, he could have invented it. It wasn't his perfectly symmetrical features. Or those gorgeous, almost black irises. Not his perfectly plump lips or heavenly body either that made him look like the closest thing to the actual Lucifer I’d ever seen.
It was the wildness behind those eyes. The complete and total lack of compassion beneath his glittering gaze. That man could eat me alive.
And that was what frightened me. Not his innate ferocity. But that I was at a point in my life where I just might let him.
Goddamn.
Those impossibly dark eyes seemed to glitter as I stood there with him staring right into my soul. I couldn’t bear it for another minute. I had to look away.
Beside him was another man. Strong, silent, and not unattractive, but I could hardly see him next to Lucifer.
He seemed bored. Weary maybe. He had a look I recognized, and my heart squeezed for him. Like he was lonely or something.
Yeah, right, Destiny. Does he look like a guy who spends his nights alone?
I remembered myself and where I was. The heavy bass from the DJ booth blasted through the club, but I was used to that and tuned it out. The interior lighting was dark, but there was a constant glow from strategically placed bulbs and strips that made it possible to see.
I knew there was a team of professionals who were responsible for the décor. I had no idea how they did it. How they made it dark and not at the same time, but the result was pretty cool.
They changed the color palette every night, and tonight’s theme made the presence of this man even more ethereal. The lights radiated cool, pale blues and whites, making the Devil look even more heavenly.
Shit. What am I doing?
I shook myself from my fanciful reverie.
Oh, right. Work. Lux. Waitressing. On thin ice with Royce.
I dragged my eyes away from the Devil incarnate and smiled at Bearded Man instead. He seemed safer somehow.
Get to work, girl, my inner voice peeped, and I blinked. Hard.
“Excuse me, sorry. Welcome to Lux, my name is Destiny, and I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get for you?” I asked, making it a point to keep my eyes fixed on the bearded man.
“Vodka. Your best. One bottle. Two glasses,” the stern, Bearded Man said.
“Yes, sir. Would you like any ice? Or lemon?”
He shook his head, and I nodded. I felt the Devil narrow his eyes at me, but I walked away without glancing in his direction again.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t see that as a slight and give me a crappy tip. But I didn’t need to worry. How many men like Lucifer over there gave two shits if his chubby waitress looked at him?
I checked on my other tables while I waited for Enri to fill the order for table forty-one, grabbing this and that and ignoring Mr. Royce’s leers as I walked by.
Bottle service was a luxury seldom afforded even among the wealthy party goers of this den of sin.
I was equal parts excited by the prospect, and nervous about going back there. When you worked in hospitality, you dealt with all sorts of people, and I’d been doing this for more than a decade.
Sure, I’d seen a lot. But I had never seen anything like him.
“Destiny, you’re up!” Enri called out, and I hurried back to the bar to grab the tray.
“Ouch!”
I winced as I lifted my arms, the goddamn wire from the corseted top I wore, like every other server there, had started to poke through the material earlier that afternoon.
Just my luck that it finally ripped the rest of the way and was now digging into my right boob.
“You alright?” Enri asked, concerned.
“It’s fine. Stupid corset broke.”
“I have a Band-Aid. Maybe you can wrap it around the wire that’s poking out? But do it after you deliver that bottle and hurry, girl, Royce Rage is on his way,” Enri warned, and I nodded.
“Good looking out.”
I lifted the tray, ignoring the pain in my breast and pasted a smile on my face.
Who the hell still demanded their female employees wear shit like this, anyway?
Only Mr. Royce, or Royce Rage as he we called him behind his back. It was a play on roid rage, since his mood swings mirrored those of those who abused steroids.
All the female staff at Lux Lounge wore deep purple corsets with lace chokers that matched. The pants were moderately better. But they were super tight pants with no pockets or zippers, leaving nothing to the imagination, like at all.
And of course, on our feet were stilettos from hell. Even defying that one code with slightly lower heels, my feet were killing me.
Fuck this fucking uniform.
It was the 21st Century, but we wore purple corsets, skintight pants, and stilettos like we stepped out of some eighties time warp.
My heart started pounding as I carried the tray over to table forty-one. The two men were talking, but I saw the trio of women approaching them and hated that I’d have to interrupt in order to set their order down.
I was so not going to give any attention to the fact all three women were tall, thin, and super hot. If you Googled the exact opposite of me, those three would definitely be featured in your search results.
Thunder roared in my ears, and my stomach twisted in a knot. I had other tables to serve, and I couldn’t stand behind those women forever, so I cleared my throat, murmuring an excuse me when that did not work.
“I thought that was you, Marat,” one of the blondes said, leaning over seductively. “Why didn’t you come say hello?” she pouted.
“Pardon me,” I whispered, trying to ignore the Devil’s stare just as he ignored the woman’s obvious come ons.
Interesting.
“Would you like me to pour?” I asked the Bearded Man who seemed equally uninterested in the trio of women.
“Thank you, Destiny. That would be fine,” he said, and I smiled as he remembered my name.
He dipped his bearded chin, and I realized he was better looking than my first assessment. He couldn’t hold a candle to the Devil over there, but who could? That man wasn’t meant for this world.
He was something else. Devil. Fallen angel. Too damn beautiful to look at for very long.
Bearded Man, though, he seemed dangerous but human. He was enormous, and from my limited experience I took a wild guess that he was the muscle.
Putting on my best professional smile, I placed the glasses and the premium bottle of vodka on the table, sliding the tray to the floor as I peeled off the wrapping and pushed the crystal cork out with my thumbs.
The fallen angel must be important to have a bodyguard, I mused, still not looking at him.
“Marat?” the whiny blonde continued.
“Excuse me, ladies, but I am here on business. Perhaps another time,” the Devil, er, Marat said, dismissing the women without a passing glance.
I felt his attention on me as I poured, placing one glass in front of Bearded Man and one in front of him.
I wasn’t expecting him to touch me, so when his long-fingered hand reached out to brush across my wrist, I jumped.
“Pardon me. Do I make you nervous?” he asked, a grin teasing at the corner of his ridiculously perfect mouth.
“Sorry, um, can I get you anything or do something for you, sir?” I asked, ignoring his question, and lifting the tray in front of me like a shield.
“You know, I believe you can, Destiny.”
End of Wild Billionaire Romance Chapter 28. Continue reading Chapter 29 or return to Wild Billionaire Romance book page.