Rebel Heir

  He squinted. “You’re writing a book? I hope it’s not Bartending for Dummies?”

  “Very funny. No. It’s a romance set in a summer house. I’m renting a share house locally for research purposes and currently living beyond my means. The job will actually be very helpful if I can write during the day and work at night.”

  “A romance in a summer house. Sounds dumb as shit.” He took out a cigarette and lit it, blowing some of the smoke toward my face.

  I coughed. “Excuse me? Why is that dumb?”

  “I don’t know much about romance novels, but that sounds cliché as fuck.”

  Thank you, Mr. Prick, for pointing out the obvious!

  Cliché. As. Fuck.

  How to make it original is precisely my problem.

  It started out okay. The first three chapters were good enough to land me the publishing deal. Now nothing was coming out. Thus, the whopping seven words I’d written today.

  He flicked some of the ashes on the ground. “By the way, you start in fifteen minutes, Shakespeare.”

  “My last name is Mirabelli…Gia Mirabelli…for your paperwork purposes.”

  He blew out more smoke and nudged his head. “Rush.”

  “I thought you said I had fifteen minutes. Pipe down. I don’t need to rush.”

  He looked up at the sky as if to question the gods as to how I could be so stupid. “Rush is my name, genius, and watch your mouth. I’m your boss, remember?”

  I don’t know where my sass was coming from, but I felt full of it all of a sudden. Straightening my posture, I unleashed it on him. “At this point in time, it seems like you need me more than I need you. While this job is going to be helpful to me, I can take it or leave it. So, I say we agree to mutually respect one another. If you disrespect me, I’ll tell you to pipe down again.” I leaned in. “I’ll tell you to fuck off, too.”

  I braced myself, expecting to get reamed for that. Instead, a wide smile spread over his face like a Cheshire cat. He placed his hand on my arm and led me away from the bar, which was now unmanned. He whispered in my ear, “Save that language for my ears only and watch yourself in front of the customers, please.”

  That choice of words was odd. He was encouraging me to swear at him?

  Shivers ran down my spine. The smell of cigarette smoke and cologne invaded my senses. Being this close to him made my body involuntarily react, even though I’d sworn off men after my bad one-night stand gone wrong a couple of weeks ago. But my reaction to Mr. Mean was a reminder that you couldn’t exactly choose whom you’re physically drawn to. Sometimes, it’s the last person you should be attracted to.

  Clearing my throat, I asked, “How do I get paid?”

  “Go freshen up. Do your job, and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

  “Is there any formal training?”

  He put out his cigarette and blew out the last of the smoke. “No.”

  “No?”

  “No. It’s not that difficult.” He pointed to the hostess station. “See that standup table over there? You stand there, greet people, and you show them to a table if they opt not to head to one of the bars. If any of the staff has a problem or issue with a customer, they may come to you since you have the least to do out of everyone. Just wing it. It requires no skill, which is a good thing after your failed stint as a bartender. People learn by doing anyway. I’m a big proponent of throwing people into the fire, not wasting time trying to explain things—well, aside from having to drag you away from the bar today when you were losing me customers.”

  “Sounds like a healthy work environment.”

  He winked. “Don’t forget to smile, Shakespeare.”

  I didn’t really have a role at The Heights. As owner of the joint, I wasn’t required to be here much of the time. That was what a manager and employees were for. But you could say I was a bit of a control freak. Plus, out of all of the businesses I owned, I favored the busy atmosphere of this place. It was where I felt most invigorated. So, I made it my home base.

  Tonight, however, I seemed to be favoring The Heights a lot more than usual, and it was pissing me off. Every time I would catch myself looking over at my new hire, Gia, I would mentally scold myself. But she was hard not to look at. With long, wild dark hair, an infectious smile, and more spunk than she could contain in that petite frame, she stood out from the moment I’d first laid eyes on her. And she was wearing glasses, which for some reason I found extremely hot.

  I didn’t live by a lot of rules. For the most part, I did what I wanted regardless of consequences. Smoking was an example. I knew it was terrible for me, but I did it anyway, even though I kept telling myself that I’d quit one day.

  Lord knows I had the means to do whatever the hell I wanted in life. That was pretty crazy to be able to say at twenty-nine. The world was at my fingertips, and as a result, it was really easy to get carried away and mess everything up. But I vowed not to waste the opportunity my grandfather had given me a few years ago when he left me half of his estate, which included multiple properties out here in the Hamptons. Even though I didn’t live by many rules, I tried not to fuck up royally.

  One big rule I did have was to not shit where I eat. Or rather, not to fuck where I work. Crossing the line with an employee was a hard limit for me. I’d yet to screw anyone I employed. And I wanted to keep it that way. Therefore, the moment I hired Gia Mirabelli was the moment Gia Mirabelli became off-limits.

  Not mixing business with pleasure normally wasn’t an issue for me. But when that little firecracker ran her mouth off at me earlier, I could have sworn my dick hardened the second the word fuck came out of her mouth. No one spoke to me like that, which was precisely why I liked it when she did. Not to mention, fuck is a lot prettier sounding of a word when it comes out of the mouth of a beautiful woman.

  Word around The Heights was that people seemed to think I was intimidating, particularly those who worked under me. Aside from Freddie, AKA ”Oak”—who, let’s face it, didn’t have to fear anyone because of his size—people seemed to be almost scared of me. But not Gia. Gia had no fucks left to give, and that was just about the most refreshing thing I’d experienced all year. Maybe ever.

  During a slow spot in the evening, I’d had her write down all of her personal information for payroll purposes and—what do you know—turns out she lives in one of my properties that was rented out as a summer share. Since I had a management company that handled the tenants, she would have no easy way of knowing I owned it. I made a mental note to spring that piece of news on her when the opportunity was right.

  The connection didn’t surprise me. I owned a good chunk of real estate in this part of the Hamptons. My estranged father and brother stayed in the City for the most part, managing the family business there. The Hamptons, though, was primarily my territory, at least from an operations standpoint.

  While a casual beach bar by day, at night, The Heights turned into more of a club and restaurant with live music on the rooftop. And on this Friday night, it was packed both indoors and outside.

  Once again, I found my eyes firmly planted on Gia. She was actually damn good at this job I’d given her. I’d downplayed the role of hostess earlier, but it wasn’t as easy as I’d made it out to be. She greeted every customer with a bright and enthusiastic smile, as if they were the very first ones to walk in the door. She also took the initiative to walk around to the tables and check on patrons during the breaks when there wasn’t anyone in line. Thankfully, she seemed oblivious to the fact that I was watching her.

  By the time everyone cleared out, it was well past midnight. It was starting to rain, and the nearby ocean was getting choppy. I was outside smoking a cigarette when Gia walked right into my cloud of smoke.

  “I didn’t realize you were still here,” she said.

  Smoke billowed from my mouth as I said, “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “You didn’t. I just…figured you’d be gone a long time ago.”

  “Nice job
tonight.”

  “Whoa.” She smiled wide. “Is that a compliment?”

  “I call it like I see it. I’d tell you if you sucked, too. While you couldn’t bartend to save your life…you were a hell of a hostess.”

  “With the most-ess.” She winked. “Well, I kind of have experience. I used to have a hostess job in the City.”

  “You can definitely tell it wasn’t your first rodeo.” My gaze instinctively fell to her heaving breasts, which were straining against the black bra I could see through her sheer white T-shirt. I pried my eyes upward.

  Our eyes locked, and suddenly she seemed eager to leave. “Well…have a good night. I’ll be here tomorrow on time.” When she started to walk past the lot of cars, I realized she didn’t have a vehicle; she was walking.

  Dressed like that? At night?

  I jumped in my Mustang and drove up beside her, rolling down my window. “Isn’t it kind of late for you to be walking alone?”

  “It’s alright. I don’t mind walking.”

  “It’s dark, and there aren’t many streetlights on the way to your house.”

  “How do you know where I live?”

  That’s right. She didn’t know I owned her damn house.

  “You gave me your address earlier, remember? I know this town like the back of my hand.”

  “I see.” She continued to walk as I drove slowly alongside her.

  “I’ll drive you home.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s not fine. You’re my employee. You worked late on my watch. If something happens to you on your way home because of that, I’d feel partially responsible. And I don’t want that on my conscience.”

  She stopped walking and put her hands on her hips. “Well, I don’t have a car at the moment. So, I’m planning to walk home most nights. If you can’t drive me every time, then why bother?”

  I wasn’t going to waste time trying to rationalize with her. “Get the fuck in the car,” I demanded.

  She didn’t argue as she opened the door and looked at me. “Thanks.”

  The recognition of her scent and the way it was making me feel put me on edge. I couldn’t figure out why I was having this kind of reaction to a woman I’d just met. She seemed familiar, even though I knew we’d never crossed paths before today.

  I’d fucked around with a lot of women, to the point where I thought I was immune to feeling like this. But there was something different about Gia that I couldn’t put my finger on.

  This was dangerous.

  I needed another cigarette. I took one out and lit it.

  “Do you think you could not smoke in here?” she said.

  “No. I can’t not smoke.”

  Insisting on smoking when she told me not to was definitely a dick move. I should have been more considerate…but with her in this car, I really needed it. I opened the window and made a conscious effort to blow the smoke out and away from her.

  “How long have you owned The Heights?”

  “My family built it a decade ago. I‘ve been in charge of it for a few years.”

  “It’s a really nice establishment. I’d only been there once before tonight and had a bad experience. I hadn’t come back until today.”

  My head whipped to the side. “What kind of bad experience?”

  “Oh…it wasn’t the bar itself or anything.”

  “What was it, then?”

  “I met a guy there and it was…well, it didn’t end well. I guess I associate The Heights with that experience. I didn’t even want to come today at all when Riley begged me.”

  The thought of someone she met at my business harming her made my blood boil. I slowed down the car and looked over at her. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No.”

  “What happened then?”

  Her blatant response surprised me.

  “I let him screw me, and he gave me the wrong number after.”

  Not many things left me speechless. But hearing her say that definitely put me at a loss for words. It didn’t make sense how anyone could manage to get this chick in bed and then give her a wrong number.

  Her honesty shocked me. How many women would admit that to their boss? Say anything you want to about Gia, but she was real. Maybe that’s what drew me to her. Because so much in my life was superficial and fake. This girl seemed like she had nothing to hide.

  She covered her face. “God, why did I just tell you that? I vomit the truth sometimes.”

  “Well, my mother used to say, ‘don’t apologize for your truths, only your lies’.” I glanced over at her. “He was probably married. We get a lot of those city types in the bar, think they can come and fuck around in the Hamptons then go back to their wives in Manhattan like nothing ever happened.”

  “You know…I think you’re right. He was definitely not who he said he was.”

  I couldn’t control the urge to scold her. “You need to be careful. You shouldn’t be going home with men you meet in bars.”

  “I’m not a slut. I hadn’t slept with anyone in months before that. I was lonely, in the mood, and figured why not. This guy…he seemed really put together, well-dressed, articulate. It’s not like he promised me marriage, but we spent all night talking before I took him back to my place. He even made plans with me for the following weekend. I didn’t think he’d give me the wrong phone number. He was charming…had me fooled. If I could take it back, I absolutely would.”

  I pulled up to her house—my house—a sprawling five-bedroom, shingle-style beach home that now served as a party pad for a bunch of city dwellers looking to escape Manhattan for the summer.

  When I shut off the car, she didn’t budge.

  “I wish I hadn’t just told you all that. I don’t want you to judge me or think I would do something like that with a customer ever again.”

  Who the fuck am I to judge? I’ve fucked up more than my share of times.

  “Believe me, judging you for something like that would be the pot calling the kettle black. We all make mistakes,” I simply said, lighting another cigarette. I blew the smoke out the window. “I just want you to be careful at The Heights. It’s a meet market.”

  “Oh, I’m quite aware of that. I got hit on all night tonight, too.”

  I sucked in my jaw. I know. I was watching and had to stop myself from getting arrested multiple times in my own bar.

  “Anyway…” she said, “How did you know this was my exact house? You didn’t even use navigation.”

  “I told you. I know this area inside out.”

  She was silent then said, “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Depends on the question.”

  “How did you come to own The Heights? I mean, you’re young and…” She hesitated.

  “What…”

  “I’m not sure how to explain it, but you don’t look like what I would have pictured.”

  “I don’t look like I’m going to be showing up at the local chamber of commerce meeting anytime soon?”

  She cracked up. “Basically…”

  Did I really want to get into this?

  Fuck it.

  “In answer to your question, I did nothing to earn The Heights or anything else I own except be born the bastard child of a very wealthy man who I can’t even stand to be in the same room with. There’s nothing impressive about that, being given wealth and not earning it.”

  “You’re on bad terms with your father?”

  “If he had his way, I wouldn’t even be in his life, let alone share any of his wealth. When my grandfather found out about my existence, which was later confirmed with a DNA test, everything changed. My granddad was an honorable man. He decided I was worthy of all of the same things that my brother—the legitimate child—got. So, I fell into a lot of wealth that I wasn’t really ready for or expecting. But that didn’t happen until I was in my twenties.”

  “Wow. So, you didn’t grow up rich?”

  “No. I grew up in a humble home on Long Island, lived with my m
other and grandmother and watched my mom struggle to raise me alone. Barely had a pot to piss in. So, I don’t take any of this for granted.”

  My eyes stayed glued to her legs as she crossed them. I wondered what they would feel like wrapped around my back. A visual of her buck naked beneath me as I hovered over her caused me to suck in the nicotine harder.

  “If you’re just like one of us then…why is everyone so damn afraid of you, Rush?”

  “What makes you think people are afraid of me?”

  I knew there was truth in that but wanted to see what she’d say.

  “Well, everyone seems to walk on eggshells around you. That was something I noticed tonight.”

  “It’s because they know I don’t take any bullshit. They’ve seen me fire people for goofing off or fraternizing with customers on the job. They know I don’t play around. You should take a lesson from them.”

  “And what’s with the permanent scowl? When I served you at the bar earlier, you looked like you were ready to kill someone.”

  “I was…I was ready to kill you. I was pissed at the girl chasing away my customers.”

  “Yeah, well, it all worked out in the end…didn’t it?”

  “The verdict is still out.”

  She smiled in a way that showed me she knew I was bullshitting her. She sensed that she was safe with me, that there was no way I was going to fire her even if she burned The Heights down. That was the truth. The realization of that was fucked-up.”

  “Why don’t you have a car, Gia?”

  “I do.” She pointed to a parked hump of metal in the driveway. “It’s just out of commission at the moment with a flat and in dire need of new brakes.”

  “Out of commission? It looks like it’s disintegrating into the ground.”

  “Don’t remind me.” She suddenly opened the door halfway. “Well…thanks for the ride.”

  A feeling of disappointment was brewing in my chest. That was when I realized how badly I didn’t want her to leave. It was also when I realized how long it had been since I’d opened up even a little to anyone. It was unsettling how much I liked being near this girl.

  She turned around before leaving, still halfway in the car. “I got the impression that you enjoyed it when I mouthed off to you earlier…”