“He is a mystery, a tall, dark, and handsome enigma that leaves her spellbound with his allure,” to quote Stephanie Garber. Emily’s lips curve into an innocent smile as her eyes linger on the stranger, unable to resist his captivating presence. She traces the contours of his rugged jawline, taking note of the way his fingers caress the glass of scotch in his hand as he swirls the clinking ice around, leaving her utterly captivated.
“You say that about almost every young man who sits at this countertop and awaits a drink. Either that or their eyes beg you to seduce them,” I tease, grinning at Emily. With a playful pout, she turns around and sashayed away, leaving me to shake my head in amusement.
I have to admit, she has a point. I’m not usually one to openly ogle someone and comment on their looks, considering I believe that beauty is something that everyone possesses in one way or another. But this guy is different. His brooding, furrowed brows and the sharp line of his jaw exude a mysterious and alluring aura that is hard to ignore. The low lighting of the bar casts shadows across his chiseled features, adding to his mystique. As he takes slow sips of his scotch, his eyes hold a glint of enigma, hinting at a story yet to be unraveled. But we all have a story, and in mine, I have work to do that does not include looking at this man, but rather serving drinks to the newcomers who have just entered the bar. Newcomers who happen to be my friends.
“Aemilia!” Leilani squeals, as she almost always does in that highly feminine voice of hers. “I have had the most wondrous day ever! And I need to fill you in, obviously.”
I grin, knowing my friend’s penchant for drama. “My shift ends in about an hour and then I’m all ears.”
Leilani’s eyes sparkle with excitement. “Hmmm, an hour to wait, in a bar. Oh, however will I occupy myself till then?” She bats her long lashes playfully, drawing admiring glances from a few patrons.
I chuckle, fondly acknowledging her flair for the dramatic. She makes up for everything I lack in life, and that’s why she’s my best friend. “How about I make you a martini and you scope the bar for the next piece of meat to fall prey to your beauty?”
I laugh, knowing Leilani’s playful nature there will be only one answer. “Sounds perfect, darling. What fun it is to have a bartender as a friend.”
“Now that is a piece of meat if I’ve ever seen one. My word, Aemilia. I will have to love and leave you and at least try to shoot my shot with this stranger,” exclaims Leilani, her playful tone betraying her interest in the mysterious stranger. Poor Emily. Now that Leilani has mister stranger in her sights there is no chance of winning for anyone else. Leilani always gets what she wants. Always.
Leilani has a magnetic charm that draws people to her effortlessly. With her dark braids cascading past her brown shoulders and stopping at her curvy hips, she exudes confidence like no one else I’ve ever seen. I can’t help but feel a pang of envy as I watch her approach the stranger.
“Miss, you are truly flattering, but certainly not my type, and I am not interested. I apologize if this offends you, but I believe that honesty is always the best policy. I’m not one to string someone along. Let me buy you a drink to make up for the awkwardness.”
Did he just reject Leilani? I can see the mortification on her face, and part of me is relieved, knowing that if it were me, I would have already died of embarrassment. I can feel my jaw scraping the tiled floor on her behalf.
My heart skips a beat as I watch the scene unfold. Leilani, who is usually so confident and self-assured, looks taken aback by the stranger’s rejection. She quickly regains her composure and gives him a playful smile. “Well, you certainly know how to reject a lady with grace,” she says, smoothly recovering from the awkward situation. “I’ll take that drink, but don’t think you’ve seen the last of me just yet.”
I exchange a sympathetic glance with Emily, who has been watching the exchange with wide eyes. She shakes her head in disbelief, her innocent smile replaced with a look of concern. “I can’t believe he rejected her like that,” she says softly to me. “I’ve never seen Leilani get turned down before.”
I pat Emily’s hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Leilani can handle herself. She’ll bounce back in no time,” I say, trying to comfort her. “Let’s focus on enjoying the rest of our evening.”
Leilani, true to form, quickly moves on from the rejection and starts chatting up another group of customers, her flirtatious banter and infectious laughter filling the air. Emily, on the other hand, seems relieved to be back to her usual routine of serving drinks and engaging in friendly conversations with the regulars. She’s always been the peacemaker in our group, the one who can diffuse tension with her calming presence and easygoing nature.
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As my shift finally comes to an end, we say our goodbyes and leave the bar. I steal one last glance at the stranger who caught our attention earlier. He’s still sitting at the counter, sipping his scotch with a thoughtful expression on his face. I can’t help but wonder what could have led him to reject Leilani so unequivocally. Perhaps there’s more to him than meets the eye.
As the days passed by and the familiar routine of the week unfolded, one thing caught my attention at the bar – the stranger. He was a brooding figure who seemed to have taken up residence at the same spot every night. Each time he entered, he would go straight to his usual spot at the bar and cast his dark, piercing eyes around the room. There was an intense aura about him, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. His demeanor reminded me of my father, who was always immersed in shady business dealings. Despite my fondness for my father, I couldn’t deny that his allegiance to the DiAngelo mafia often took precedence over everything else in his life. Yes, back home in Sicily, I’m the daughter of a Don, and as I watched the stranger from behind the bar counter, I couldn’t help but notice the similarities between him and my father – the way he carried himself with a sense of purpose, the intensity in his eyes that hinted at a burden he carried. It was as if he, too, had a world of secrets hidden beneath the surface, just like my father did.
“Excuse me, miss,” Startled out of my thoughts by the sudden interruption. I turned to face the source of the voice.
For a moment, he just looked me up and down, as if appraising me. I felt a flush creep up my neck as I waited for him to speak. “I’m sorry about the other night,” he said, his voice deep and resonant, the kind that sent shivers down my spine. “I didn’t mean to offend your friend.”
I forced myself to smile, unsure of what to make of this stranger’s sudden apology. “No worries,” I said, trying to maintain a polite tone. “It’s all part of the game, isn’t it? You win some, you lose some.”
He chuckled, a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the room. I could see a hint of humor glinting in his eyes, which softened his otherwise sharp features. “Indeed,” he said.
Later in the evening, as I’m wiping down the counter, he approaches me with a confident stride, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. The dim lighting of the bar casts a warm glow on his sharp features, accentuating the chiseled jawline and the glimmer in his eyes.
“I’ve been coming to this bar for the past few days, hoping to catch your attention,” he confesses, his voice a deep, resonant tone that vibrates through my core.
I raise an eyebrow, surprised by his admission and feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension. “Why?” I ask, holding my breath, my heart starting to race.
“Because you’re different,” he says softly, his enigmatic expression returning. “There’s something about you that’s... intriguing.”
His words send a jolt of conflicting emotions through me. I’m not used to customers expressing such personal interest in me.
“I’m just doing my job,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, even though I can feel my palms getting sweaty.
“I know. But what I mean to say is, different is my type, and you’re different.” His eyes seem to hold mine, and I feel a flicker of intrigue despite my initial skepticism. “I appreciate the compliment,” I say, trying to keep my emotions in check.
He nods, his smile fading slightly. “I only have a few weeks left before returning home. You see, I’m here on a business trip, and I was hoping that you might grace me with your presence for dinner sometime,” he says, his expression unreadable.
I bite my lip, my mind racing with questions. Is he genuine or just another smooth talker trying to charm his way into my good graces? I continue wiping down the counter, trying to maintain a professional demeanor, but I can’t ignore the flutter of excitement in my chest as I consider his offer. The way he looks at me, the confidence in his voice, and the air of mystery that surrounds him all captivate my curiosity.
But then there is also this nagging voice in the back of my mind that reminds me of my father’s warnings, the dangers of getting involved with anyone that is new. I remember the stories I’ve heard about the consequences of crossing the wrong people in life.
I glance at the stranger, taking in his sharp suit and the glimmering cufflinks that adorn his wrists. He exudes wealth and power, and I can’t deny that it’s appealing in some twisted way. But can I trust him? Can I afford to take such risks? I fought so hard to move to Miami and I don’t want anything to mess it up.
I take a deep breath, feeling torn between caution and curiosity. “I appreciate the invitation,” I say finally, my voice steady, though my heart still races. “But I need some time to think about it.” My response seems to satisfy him, and he nods understandingly. “Take your time,” he says, his voice still carrying that deep, resonant tone. His eyes drift to the name tag pinned to my chest. “Aemilia. How fitting. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” “Thanks, Mr.....” I glance at him. “Aurelio,” he says. “Thanks Mr. Aurelio.”
With that, he leaves the bar, leaving me with a whirlwind of emotions. I continue my work, my mind in turmoil, as I weigh the risks and rewards of accepting Mr. Aurelio’s invitation.
As the night goes on, the bar empties out, and I’m left alone with my thoughts. I lock up the bar, my mind still racing, and as I walk home through the dark streets, I can’t shake off the feeling of being watched.