Chapter 100: Stealing Glances
"All of you come highly recommended! If you do really well, then you will be retained since our past servers had to be let go," he informed them, his tone clipped and professional. The man stood tall in front of them, dressed in a crisp black suit that blended perfectly with the dim interior of the club.
Llara couldn’t keep her curiosity aside.
"They fell?" she asked, blinking in surprise, seeing as that was one thing they weren’t supposed to do, only to have the man shake his head as he responded.
"No! They did much worse! They displeased the owner!" he replied, his lips thinning slightly even as he ordered them to follow behind him with a sharp wave of his hand.
Llara had a couple more questions, but she knew better than to go ahead and ask, even as she obediently followed behind the rest. The clicking of their heels echoed softly against the polished floor as they moved deeper into the club.
Think of the three thousand dollars, she told herself firmly. Better still, she could even become a permanent employee—a benefit she hadn’t enjoyed in a while—as she carefully began to watch her tray and listen to the instructions they were given.
Which included no flirting with VIP customers and no spending too long in one place.
Llara knew all the rules, so she only half listened as she stared out from the bar area where they were stationed into the main VIP section, trying to note the areas she had to be careful of while also keeping an eye on her colleagues.
The last thing she wanted was for someone to trip her five minutes into the job. I can’t afford that, she thought grimly, realizing she couldn’t allow anyone to mess up the job for her.
Time passed faster than any of them expected, and soon customers began to troop into the club—both the downstairs area meant for the general populace and the upstairs reserved strictly for the VIP area.
Even the smell of their perfume was more than enough to let Llara know that even those downstairs were super rich, not to mention the ones who were allowed upstairs after flashing a gold-plated card that glinted briefly under the lights.
Talk about classism, Llara thought, even as she plastered a smile on her face and filled her tray with drinks, balancing it carefully in her hands before heading out.
She wore heels of medium height—good enough for a club but not low enough to make her look like she belonged in a corporate setting. They were the kind that promised pain later but confidence now.
For the first few minutes, Llara couldn’t help the nervousness that assailed her. She wasn’t the only one either, as one of the other three girls nearly slipped just five steps away from the bar area, barely managing to steady herself.
I see why this club is called DARK, Llara thought, considering the fact that the main source of light was a massive disco ball hanging from the ceiling, throwing fractured colors across the walls and bodies at the center of the building.
But Llara was an expert. She climbed the stairs smoothly, moving through the VIP area with practiced ease as she began to serve drinks with a polite smile that never quite reached her eyes.
Her job was simple: keep moving until her tray was almost empty, then return to refill and repeat the process for two solid hours.
Usually, Llara would be bored—but this time she wasn’t.
Even with the darkness of the club, it was easy for her to recognize the handsome billionaire she had once urged Dora to woo before Dora somehow ended up with Dante instead.
It had been a while, but his face was the kind that was hard to forget—sharp features, effortless confidence, the look of a man who had never worried about money a day in his life.
Lorenzo, right? she thought, only to frown slightly as she recalled that the same person who had been in charge of the drug meeting she had almost been caught in had also been called Lorenzo by the manager.
Even more surprising was the huge, muscular man sitting directly opposite him. They were surrounded by women who lounged at the table—not too close, but close enough to signal availability.
Even then, Llara had no issue recalling the person she had once given a blowjob to—if it could even be called that—since she had barely started before he sent her away.
Unlike before, he wore only a shirt that clung tightly to his broad frame, emphasizing his muscles, paired with dark pants. The light was still very dim, which meant the only time she could get a clear look at him was when she passed beside the table.
She moved closer when someone at the table requested a drink from her tray, careful to keep her gaze down and avoid eye contact.
But even then, she couldn’t help tossing a few glances at the tattoo-covered man whose sleeves were rolled up. Unlike Lorenzo, who looked like a rich playboy or a polished CEO, this man practically screamed mafia.
It didn’t help that his left pinky finger was missing—and at that moment, he wasn’t even trying to hide it, resting his hand casually on the table.
There was something about him that enamored Llara, something she couldn’t quite explain, and she hoped it wasn’t because she had seen his huge dick—which she had only barely gotten a taste of.
Matteo, right? she thought, doing her best to recall his name even as she mentally scolded herself.
He’s dangerous, Llara. You know better than to mess with anyone mafia-related—especially the ones that aren’t even trying to hide it, she told herself firmly as she moved farther away from the table and toward the upstairs dancing area.
She carefully weaved through the crowd, aware that this section was always the thirstiest and also the best path to circle back downstairs to refill her tray and finally take a break.
Yet even as she did, she couldn’t help glancing back at him for another look. She could barely make out his face, but her mind filled in the gaps vividly as she sidestepped a man who tried to grab her waist instead of a drink.
She winced as he whined loudly in her ear, quickly avoiding him and heading toward the stairs, her tray now mostly empty.
Only to freeze mid-step.
Her breath caught as she glanced up—stunned to see Matteo already looking right back at her. His gaze was sharp, deliberate, and unmistakable.
It said, loudly and clearly, I remember you.
Llara didn’t dare stare. She grabbed the railing and her tray tightly, steadying herself to ensure a disaster didn’t happen, her heart thumping violently in her chest as she turned away.
She headed downstairs without looking back at him, her steps quick and careful, needing the break far more than she had previously thought.
