Chapter Five: Warning and Rules

(Mila POV)

I can't wait for my first paycheck. All I want to do is take it, fold it up, and disappear. 

A new city, off in the distance, a new job waiting, maybe a new purpose. Working here has given me courage, something I never knew I had. A new name would be awesome. Mila feels like it came from somewhere else entirely. 

Crimson, with its busy nightlife, clientele, and Luca, isn't the place I think I can call home for too long, not for someone like me. I feel something in the air the moment I walk inside. I feel it in my bones. My mind is playing tricks on me, I'm sure, because what could be waiting for me, except me messing up more, running on minimum sleep and still being high-strung?

I know running is exhausting. It drains more energy than I have, rips me open and takes me to dark places in my mind. But somehow, something is going on in this town that makes me feel that I won't be running again, not anytime soon anyway. Something draws me to it. I don't know yet what it is, but something tells me I will find out soon enough. 

By lunch, I'd already been mixing drinks for two hours. Observing from the corner of his eye, Nico keeps me mainly in the back for some reason. Maybe I embarrass the club by doing this in front. And I am not even allowed to move away from the bar. I cannot even blame Nico, just myself, for my stumbling, breaking glasses; I don't even want to think what that bottle of tequila would have cost me if Nico had let me pay for it, which he refused when I offered. I have to admit defeat. I am a walking disaster.

Nico has the kind of patient patience of a good teacher. But I can tell he's watching me, hoping and praying to the gods that I do not fuck up more. 

And then, from far down in the club, I hear the voice, a scratchy bitchy voice if you ask me. "She must've done something to get special treatment." 

"I bet she caught his eye." I freeze, my heart pounding. 

Slowly, I look toward the source of the voice. Tasha, of course, it's her, the waitress, who's more than once made it clear that I ain't welcome here.

She is leaning back against the counter, fingers drumming on the counter. She looks me up and down, and the look in her eye tells me she finds me in competition. With a Smirk on her lips, she sneers. "You look puzzled, bitch," she says, voice thick with envy. I look at her, then catch Nico shaking his head in warning. She laughs annoyingly, ignoring Nico's prominent warning."Nobody told you?" I grip the cloth in my hands, my knuckles white. "Told me what?" She sighs and fakes exasperation. "That you're off-limits now." 

A feeling of a few WTF erupts from my mouth. It's hot and cold. I shake my head hard. " I have no idea what you're on about, Tasha."

" Sure, you dont " She gives me a once over as if she's looking at trash that needs to be thrown out.

" Look, I get it. You are fresh blood. You probably think you 're special to. But here's a few free tips, this place does not work like that. Women like us? We earn our pay by playing nice. And by nice, I mean… well you would have found out sooner rather than later. But somehow, you 're already been whisked away from the front line. So, tell me why do you think that is?" 

My pulse pounds to my ears. I'm unsure what she means, so I don't know what to say. I haven't asked Nico to move me away from the main floor. Maybe I should ask why. But deep down, I was kind of relieved. Apparently, she wasn't done.

"Luca wants a new plaything, I think." I bit my lip to keep me from answering something stupid. Luca Moretti. Pfft, he barely knows I exist, wanting to tell her that as well. But just the name sends a shiver down my spine, a mixture of fear and something else, something I can't quite put my finger on.

The rest of the night is busy, things are happening so fast that I, at some point, had to run to keep up. The club was busy closing, people were exiting, and the last bartender just left. Nico and I were the only ones left in this section. I had a section with a party of females for a Bachelorette, so I got to service them tonight. I was running my section one more time, ensuring I cleaned up everything.

I pull off my apron and start walking to the exit in the back after saying goodnight to Nico. I felt someone's presence near me as I was about to exit. I feel him before I see him. His presence almost made me run. A shadow falls over me, 

"Mila" It was just my name, but it was enough to make me come to a complete stop. I turned towards the man himself. He is leaning against the door,

Luca Moretti...

He looks like a man on a mission, he is dressed in all black and watches me with a dark look. He seems angry for some reason, and I hope it is not with me right now. Then his gaze ran over me, all thoughts suddenly vanished. My mouth runs dry. 

I should turn away, pretend I did not hear him, and leave. But I can't move. His attention was on me, and lordy, I need help. And then, with a deep and gruff voice, which was low and insistent, he pointed with his thumb towards upstairs,

"Come with me, " and the stalks past me towards his office.

It's not a request, it's an order, pure and simple. The air is smoky and tense as if the walls were breathing. I followed him to his office, with floor-to-wall windows overlooking the city, his office was stunning. As I entered, I see the shadows that dance across his features. He motioned for me to sit. His head tilting towards me, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his stance arrogant. He is clearly angered about something.

He stares at me like a wolf who has seized its prey, and I feel his eyes looking at me, grazing over my body. I swallow hard, my throat dry. 

"Did I do something wrong?"

The question is almost impossible to answer. Not knowing what it could be.

He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he tilts his head and looks at me with those dark, unreadable eyes that seem to see right through me. 

"You don't belong here, " he says at last.

The words cut me deep, and I suddenly pulled my head up, looking back at him, shocked. I blink, caught off guard. "Excuse me?" His jaw sets, and I know there is something to range under the surface. 

"This club. This world. It's not for someone like you." 

I should get angry at the implication in his words and snarl back at him that choice isn't an option for me. But haven't I told myself the exact things earlier in the day? But the way he says it, the gravity of it, tells me this isn't an insult. I think it's a warning, I think, with hints of concern and something darker, more worrysome. I shiver as I straighten and stands quickly.

"I can take care of myself, you know, " I say, even with this shivering in my body, and clearly, there is a shake in my voice. He takes a sudden deep breath, then another, more measured.

"No, you can't."

He suddenly raps out in a voice that is too smooth and too controlled, at once soothing and threatening.

"You're going to follow a few rules from now on."

My fingers twitch at my sides, my nerves flaring. "Rules?" He smiles, but not a happy one and it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Is that a problem?" I grit my teeth, irritation flaring. 

"Depends on what you mean with rules? Club rules?." 

He pushes off the desk and steps closer to me, the distance between us closing fast. My body stiffens at his closeness and the heat he's I can feel coming from his body. I can smell whiskey on his breath, but something else there seems dark and dangerous. His closeness makes my pulse race, and I am sure he can see it in my throat. But I refuse to back down, to make him see how his closeness affects me.

"Rule one," he says, low and fierce. 

"You stay away from men like them." I blink, caught off guard. "Like who?" His jaw tightens, the muscle strained. "The ones who come around this place." 

A chill runs down my spine, and I wonder what he is talking about. "You mean all men that come to this club? Why would I do that? " I whisper, feeling very silly. His eyes go dark, storm clouds gathering. "I notice everything going on in my club, and I see the men hanging onto you, wanting your attention, maybe even more." I swallow, feeling his stare press down on me. 

"Rule two," he says, his voice steady.

"You don't get too friendly. Not with customers. Not with staff. And certainly not with guys like me." I breathe in slowly, the air heavy and thick in my lungs. "Why?" He leans in slightly, an inch or so from my face. The movement is slight, but it makes it all the more powerful.

 "Because men like that want only one thing. And men like me don't do happy endings, Mila."

A jolt goes through me, electric. My name sounds erotic in his mouth. Fuck, dangerous even, charged with a shit load of meaning. It is as if he intentionally makes me scared to prove a point. But I ignore the way my stomach tightens, the way he's circling me, trying to put fear in me. I straighten more, trying to hold my ground. "Is that really all?"

Knowing men, in general, scares me, so it won't be too hard to abide by these rules. His eyes shift down to my outfit. 

"Rule three," he adds in a low, gravelly voice.

"You wear something else tomorrow." My breath catches in my throat. "What?" His eyes are back on mine, dark and unmoving. "Nothing tight. Nothing that makes men look at you the way they do all the nights."

 I laughed hard, shock underneath my bluster. "You can't control what I wear, Sir." 

His smirk is sharp, almost predatory. "Try me." 

We stare at each other, sparks flying in a silent showdown, and neither of us is willing to be the first to look away. But, of course, he wins. 

"You'll have a bodyguard on you from now on," he says, and there is no mistaking the severity of his words. "Someone who will go where you go, to make sure men don't get too close, to ensure you don't break my fucking rules."

I inhale sharply, the shock making me yell. "You're cant be fucking serious?" 

"Deadly, you clearly cannot look after yourself, so I am putting a guy on you to ensure you do." My hands form into fists, anger seething inside me.

"You can't just..."

"I can," he says, and there's something final in his voice. "I will, and I did." 

The air is thick with tension, and I know right then that this isn't just about protecting me from myself and others. This is about him wanting to ensure his possessions remain untouched. I turn around, leaving his office as fast as my legs can. My instincts clearly are telling me to get the fuck out of Seattle, away from this life, and especially away from Luca.

But I don't…

I stay…