The Billionaire's Wife(2)

Swinging back through the kitchen doors with my empty tray I take a moment to breathe and contemplate sneaking out of the back door. As I look towards the back door one of the other servers grabs me on the shoulder snagging my hair with his fingers as he does.



“Melissa, go down to the basement and grab a few more bottles, we’re running short and these people can dr-rink” He separates the word in to two over exaggerated syllables and steers me in the direction of the basement door. Fuck, I hate basements. Still, it’ll be a few minutes respite from the parlor. Opening the door I flip on the switch and step out of my shoes, I’ll break my neck taking these stairs in heels. I make sure to shut the door behind me; something I decide was probably a bad decision should a basement dwelling poltergeist decide to chase me out of its home.



The air down here isn’t the usual damp basement air and it smells like, well, nothing really. There is a distinct lack of that wet basement smell. To the left of the stairs is a corridor opening in to a large, dimly lit room that is lined with rack upon rack of wine bottles. I find the case of champagne lying by the corridor entrance though, obviously left there for easy access for us. I grab one bottle in each hand and turning to go back up the stairs I notice a flicker of light from a door to the right of the stairs. I set the bottles back down and walk over, trying the door handle. The door opens and I see a large bar room complete with a bar top, neon lights and a well groomed bar man wiping out glasses.



“Well, isn’t this some sort of shit from The Shining” I didn’t realize that I’d spoken the words out loud until the man behind the bar cracks a smile. “Sorry, I just…I didn’t expect…”



“Don’t worry about it; it’s sort of a hidden oasis. Not many people know it’s here and those that do don’t go telling about it. We like to keep it on the down low.” I can’t help but laugh at him.



“Down low? Do people still say that?” He shrugs looking a little offended.



“Apparently this person still does?” He lowers his eyes to my stocking covered feet “Sorry, no shoes, no service” There’s that smile again and this time it’s followed by a wink.



“I thought it was no shoes, no shirt, no service?” I ask walking over to the bar and hopping on to one of the barstools.



“No shirt…now there’s a thought” I can feel the color rising in my cheeks as his blue gaze lingers just a little longer than it should on my breasts. He lifts his eyes back to mine, “Can I get you a drink?”



“Got anything to steel me for the rest of the night? I just love dealing with ungrateful socialites with too much money and no manners.” His face takes on a curious look; something like amused aggravation for just a second before he turns around and reaches for a shaker.



“No excuse for a lack of manners, no excuse at all. Speaking of which, I’m Ricky” He flashes that smile again and I wonder if he knows how badly it makes me want to kiss him. He has that typical bad boy look about him and I find myself wondering just how bad of a boy he could be if he really tried.



“Melissa,” I say as I lean over the bar and watch him mixing various colored liquors in the shaker. I’m not much of a drinker and seeing him pour so many liquors in to one drink makes me a little nervous.



“Not much of a drinker, Melissa?” Cannily reading my mind, he starts to shake the shaker and I let my eyes settle on the mop of deep brown hair that flops down over his eyes as he shakes.



“Not so much. A glass of wine now and then but other than that it’s mostly coffee at work and soda or water at home” Of all times to get verbal diarrhea I choose now? Why did I tell him that? Like he actually cares what I drink and when I drink it.



“Oh. Where do you work?” He raises a single eyebrow and places the drink on the bar with a small napkin.



“Just Starbucks” I don’t know why I’m so embarrassed to tell people that I work in a coffee shop, hell, people are lucky to have any job these days and it’s not like he’s much better off working in a bar basement.#p#分页标题#e#



“Hmm, pretty girl like you shouldn’t be serving other people. You deserve to be the one being taken care of.” I don’t know how to respond to that.



“Hey, it pays the bills. Besides, I’ve always done pretty well taking care of myself and it’s not like I’ll be a barista forever.” Now I’m on the defensive and can’t help but feel a little angry that he’d assume that I can’t take care of myself.