Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 29299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Placing my hands on my hips, I glower at him. “I pay my way, Lucca. You make me pay it.”
“Nothing comes for free, Sofina,” he grinds out, fixing a spirit bottle in place. “Dreams don’t pay the bills.”
Whatever. How the hell would he know?
Grabbing the cloth and spray, I stomp over to the first table and clean it even though it’s already clean.
The bar music suddenly booms from the speakers, making me growl under my breath.
I could be the entertainment for this place if he weren’t so damn uptight and a slave driver.
My feet carry me to the next table, but I stop short when I notice a pair of sleek men’s dress shoes beneath it. I follow the pressed slacks up the man’s long legs, my heart pounding wildly and free in my chest.
A solid torso is hidden beneath a slim-fitting suit jacket, expensive fabric in a vibrant, dark blue shade. Shirt and tie are bringing the whole show together in a well-packaged offering. But it’s not the best part. Oh no, that face needs no help being noticed.
Hot damn.
A chiseled jawline lays the foundation for one beautiful face.
Glowing tanned skin, thick full lips, straight nose, and large mesmerizing dark eyes are welcoming me in. Topped off with a short dark haircut giving a no bullshit vibe.
I notice a pricey looking watch sitting on his wrist, twinkling under the low light, as he plays with a business card in his hand.
He has whiskey on the rocks, melting in a glass in front of him, but I still find myself asking, “Can I get you something?”
My pussy clenches when his tongue swipes out to wet his lips and his dark brown eyes dance with humor. He knows the effect he must have on women.
What the hell brought such a man to this bar?
Lifting his hand, he offers me the card. It’s textured and has a masculine scent to it. Interesting.
I read the bold embossed letters.
Ronan Hayes, CEO of Harose Records
I turn it over to see phone numbers and an address.
My hand begins to shake as I look it over and then back at him. “Is this a joke?”
“I don’t play games,” his deep, baritone voice rumbles. “I want to hear you sing without the interruption.”
His eyes hold mine with such intensity my lip trembles. It’s almost intimidating being in his mere presence, yet I don’t exactly want to leave it.
“Sofina!” Lucca barks, making me startle as embarrassment heats my flesh.
Mr. Hayes’ eyes cut to my brother’s and flare with something I can’t identify, before coming back to mine and darkening.
Picking up his glass, he downs the contents, breaking an ice cube between his teeth as he does.
“The whiskey you serve here is weak. It lets this establishment down. Speak to the boss about improving his inventory.” His words sound demanding.
Fidgeting, I shrug. “He’s my brother, and he won’t listen to me.”
“Make him listen,” he rumbles. “If you don’t use your voice to be heard, what’s the point in having one?”
“I…uh…”
“Are you going to sing for me, Sofina?” My name slips through his lips like silk on bare skin.
“When?” I squeak out, flustered and feeling a stirring so potent in my stomach it’s making me dizzy.
“How often does opportunity come knocking?” he croons in a confident, rich tone. “Soon, Sofina. Very soon. Don’t make me wait.”
Damn, I’ve never been so enthralled by a man before, and I don’t even know him.
“Sofina?” Lucca growls, coming up behind me. “Everything okay here?” My brother dominates my space and uses his take no shit voice to speak to Mr. Hayes.
“I was telling Sofina how authentic and beautiful her voice is,” Mr. Hayes replies, making my entire bloodstream spike with adrenaline.
“Listen, pal,” Lucca snarls. “She’s not paid to entertain by the table. It’s a bar, not a strip joint.”
Shit, he’s so fucking hostile all the time.
A throaty laugh barks from Mr. Hayes.
“It’s certainly not. Strip joints have better whiskey,” he quips, making my brother aware that he doesn’t take bullshit from the likes of him.
Rising to his feet, a gasp almost slips past my lips from the sheer size of him dwarfing me. Slipping his hand into his pocket, he pulls out a money clip and drops a hundred-dollar bill on the table.
“For the brief, but satisfying entertainment,” he says, smirking.
And then he’s gone.
Dammit.
I turn on my heel to face my brother, fury pounding in my heart like a war drum.
“Do you know who the hell that was?” I screech, overcome with anger.
“An arrogant prick,” he snorts, walking away from me.
“Lucca,” I bark out, chasing after him. “That was Ronan Hayes from Harose Records. The fucking CEO of the Harose record label was here in your bar.”
“Our bar and so?” he scoffs, like it’s not the most incredible thing to ever happen to me.
“So?! So, that’s insane. The odds of that happening are—”