“You don’t want to do that, buddy.”
Piers spit in his face.
Ugh. Gross! Piers was low, but she couldn’t believe he’d sunk so low as to spit in someone’s face.
Hector just shook his head. “You shouldn’t have done that either.”
Piers lunged for Hector, who was in much better shape. Hector punched him in the stomach.
She smiled as Piers curled into another ball.
That said, she still kinda wished he’d been punched in his stupid face.
Hector rolled his shoulders back and wiped off the spit with the sleeve of his tee. “Low, I think you should bring charges against him.”
Captain—who was apparently called Low by Hector—nodded. “Let me just run it by Alex.” He stepped over Piers and headed to a corner of the pub to make his call.
Alex? Did he mean Prince Alexander, heir to Valleria’s throne and his older brother?
Wow. Someone was calling the future king and she was in the same room! That was definitely a high point in her life. Some might say meeting an actual prince probably ranked higher, but that same prince was calling the future king. No contest, really.
“What happened?”
She caught Hector’s gaze again. “What?”
He nodded to the glass on the floor. “What happened?”
“Oh. Uh, Piers threw a bottle at the door.”
“Why?”
“He was upset.” Understatement of the century. “The liquor license got pulled.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
She shook her head. “No, I managed to duck out of the way—”
Suddenly Hector was in front of her, his voice low and menacing. She knew he wasn’t mad at her because of the gentle way his hands squeezed her shoulders. “Duck? You had to duck? Did that asshole aim for you?”
She swallowed again. Unable to speak, she nodded.
He shook his head and stared down at Piers, who was slowly straightening up again. “Motherfucker.”
Piers sneered at Hector but didn’t say anything.
Hector turned to face him, his hands on his hips, which made his broad chest seem even broader. “You have five minutes to get your shit and get out.”
Piers was a little hunched but standing. “You can’t just take my business. I didn’t sign any paperwork.”
“You don’t need to if the bank takes it. All of this is in the mortgage agreement you signed. The letter you got was their notice that this could happen if you didn’t pay up.”
“They only gave me two weeks!”
She rolled her eyes. Really? He still didn’t get it?
Hector just shook head, clearly not believing Piers was this much of an idiot. “They gave you one week, per the mortgage agreement, which ended last Tuesday.”
“That’s not right!”
“That’s the agreement you signed. They’re a shit bank who also treats their customers like shit. Did you even look into them before you took out the mortgage? Hell, did you even fucking read the agreement before you signed it?”
Piers pursed his lips.
“I thought not. Now get your shit and. Get. Out.”
“I live above the bar. I can’t get all that in five minutes.”
“Then get what you need and get out, and inform us where to send your shit by noon tomorrow. We’ll arrange to have it moved.”
“I’ll come back and pack it myself.”
“We’re changing the locks today, so you won’t be able to get in.”
Piers slammed his hands through the air. “This is bullshit!”
“Everything all right here?”
One of the Captain’s protection agents stood tense in the open door, scanning the room and situation. Since the Captain was safe in a corner, he relaxed but only a little.
Captain walked over, slipping his phone into his pocket as he did. “Call the local PD, Jackson. We need to file a complaint.”
“Sir?”
Captain nodded towards Piers. “He tried to attack me, but Hector stepped in. Then he spat in Hector’s face.”
Hector gestured to the damp, littered floor. “He also threw a bottle of vodka at Amelia.”
“What?” Captain stepped in front of her, a gentle hand on her arm. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “I only got a little on my back, but—”
Before she could finish, Hector and Captain had spun her around.
Oh, jeez. Really?
Then they began to each run a hand down her back and she tensed. She hadn’t been touched by a man in, well, forever really. She had no idea how to handle two of them, even if they were touching her out of concern for her health.
Little shards that had become embedded in her sweater tumbled down and mixed with the mess on the floor.
She heard Hector mutter behind her. “Jesus. You could have been killed. Take your sweater off. It’s not safe.”
She immediately clutched it closer, her shoulders curving in. “I’m fine.”
“Amelia.”
She shook her head and stepped away. When she turned around, she blinked at the sight of the agent easily restraining Piers, whose pinched face was pressed against a table. The agent cuffed him, then shoved him into a booth before pulling out a phone.
“Millie.”
Her eyes met the Captain’s.
He looked determined.
Shit.
“We should get you checked out, Millie.”
She shook her head again. “I’m fine. Really.”
“We’ll call an ambulance and—”
God, she had no room in her budget for an emergency trip to the hospital. The royal family was setting up a national health care system, but it wasn’t implemented yet. “Please don’t. I just want to go home. Can’t I go home?” Home, where she could forget about this entire disastrous day.
Captain gave her a pitying smile. “I’m sorry, but you need to stay and give your statement to the cops. If you don’t want medical attention, I won’t force you, but stay for the cops and then you can leave.”
She sighed and nodded. It appeared she didn’t have a choice. “All right.”
Captain gave her arm a gentle pat. “Shouldn’t be too long.”
She looked down. As she tried to figure out how the day had turned into such shit, she stared at the glass on the floor. She didn’t work here anymore—especially now that the pub had new owners—but she couldn’t leave the glass there. Someone could get hurt.
She met the Captain’s eyes again. “Are you really the owner now?”
He gave her a soft smile. “I’m the silent partner. Hector’s gonna run the joint.”
She looked to Hector. “What about the rest of the staff? Do they know yet?”
Hector nodded. “We sent a notice around to them today. The pub’s gonna close down, undergo a renno and refurb—renovation and refurbishment—and then reopen in about four months. I’ve asked all the staff to come here tomorrow to meet with me to discuss if they’ll want to stay on in their current positions.”
Four months with no steady income? Geez. She didn’t think anyone from the Royal Court would wait that long. Everyone needed a job.
“Do you want to stay?”
She blinked, her long eyelashes brushing against the lenses in her glasses. “What?”
“Continue on as waitress? We’ll check everyone’s current salary and confirm we can still make that work. Depending on the amounts, we’ll also check to see if we can give anyone raises.”
A raise? That was an elusive dream she’d stopped hoping for. “But I quit today.”
Hector scoffed. “Yeah, and no doubt you had a good reason when you worked for that asshole. Now you’ll work for me.”
It was tempting. She’d never had a boss who wasn’t terrible before, and it seemed like Hector wouldn’t be terrible. “I can’t wait that long. I need to find work.” She blushed. Being poor was nothing to be ashamed of, but she felt it all the same.
She felt
it every week when more bills poured in and the debt piled higher.
She felt it every day when she went home with fewer tips than the night before.
She felt it every hour when she had a spare moment to think about her situation.
The cold, oily feeling of shame slid into her stomach all too often.
Hector, oblivious or misreading her emotions, just smiled wide. “Didn’t I mention? We’d give you pay for the months we were closed. Longer, if the renno takes longer. You’d be covered. Paid time off.”
Paid.
Time.
Off.
Oh God.
“I, uh, wouldn’t need to do anything? For four months?”
He shook his head. “Once the refurb’s done, you’ll need to come in—so will all the staff—to clean the place and get it set up before we open. Actually, thinking on it, you might not get the whole four off—you might need to come back after three—but, other than that, you can just enjoy your time off.”
Wow. She couldn’t remember when she’d had time off besides the odd day here or there. She could have three whole months to focus on her jewelry and make tons of it. Not to mention, they were heading into the spring. Lots of craft fairs happened in the spring. She might even break even for the first time or—dare she hope?—make a profit.
Even as her heart started to fill with hope, it deflated like a sad balloon. “It doesn’t seem right. I’d feel like I was taking your money.” She’d never been good at accepting hand-outs. She’d become so used to working like a dog and looking out for herself that an offer of help seemed wrong. She couldn’t trust it. Logically, she understood this wasn’t a hand-out, but that didn’t make it easier for her to accept it; she’d been burned too often in the past to trust this now.
Hector gave her an odd look; it wasn’t bad, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it meant. “Take the offer, Amelia. You won’t regret it.”
Could she work for Hot Man Customer, now Hot Man Boss? With the prince as Silent Hot Man Boss?
Man, oh man, oh man.
“Amelia.” His voice was low and soft, almost hypnotizing. “Take the offer.”
“Okay.” She wasn’t really aware of saying it. But by the smile on Hector’s face, she knew it had come out of her mouth, and that he’d really liked it when it did.
Not to mention, there were those dimples again.
“Do you think the rest of the staff will come back if I’m their boss?”
She thought of her coworkers. There were five bartenders on rotation, her, another part-time waitress, and two part-time kitchen staff. Not exactly an even distribution of labor. “I’m not sure. You said you already invited them to stay?”
His eyes were scoring into hers. His hair was longer now, and a lock of it fell against his eyebrow. She had the urge to push it back with the lightest brush of her fingers.
He kept his eyes locked with hers. “Is there anyone that shouldn’t stay?”
All of them. Truthfully, the other waitress and kitchen staff weren’t bad, but she’d only worked with the waitress a few times and she rarely saw the kitchen staff unless it was to drop or pick up an order. Piers always scheduled her alone on the floor, with as little overlap with the other shifts and people as possible.
The bartenders, well, they were another story. However, she didn’t want anyone to lose their job; she couldn’t live with being responsible for that. “Maybe just look at the schedules, for the bartenders, for example. Not that they’re awful or anything,” she added quickly. “They just need…redeploying.”
“Which ones?”
“All of them?”
His lips thinned into a hard line. “Which ones in particular?”
Jeez. She felt like she was being asked to name names in front of a jury. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
“Amelia.”
Man, there was that voice again.
She turned her back to the bar, then leaned forward and whispered. “Maybe don’t hire him back.” She pointed so her hand was hidden from the loser in question.
His brows furrowed. “I’m not hiring Piers, baby.”
Baby. He’d said it again!
She ignored that for the moment and continued whispering. “I meant the bartender.”
“There isn’t a bartender over there.”
She whipped around, seeing that Rob had indeed fled like the coward he was. “Goddamn pissant!”
She clamped her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide as Hector and Captain stared at her.
She slowly lowered her hands, her face twisted in embarrassment. “Sorry. So sorry.”
Captain glanced at the bar, then back to her. “Was someone else here?”
She nodded. “Yeah, um, yes. One of the bartenders, Rob, was here when I first came in. He must have left once you both arrived.”
Hector cursed. “Did he do anything to help you when Piers threw that bottle?”
She shook her head.
He cursed again.
Captain pulled out his phone. “I’ll take care of it. Cops should be here in a few. Take over if I’m not back, yeah?”
Hector nodded.
At a loss for what to do, but needing some distance to think, she gestured to the back hallway. “I’m just going to get a broom to clean this up.”
“Leave it.”
“But—”
“At least until the cops take some pictures of it.”
Right. She was such an idiot. Of course, the cops would need to take pictures. “Then I’ll get the broom so I can clean it up once they’re done.”
He grasped her arm as she passed, unintentionally holding her where Piers had bruised her. She couldn’t hide her wince.
Goddamn Piers.
“You hurt?”
She shook her head quickly and tried to step away; he blocked her path.
“Amelia.”
She sighed. Might as well get it over with.
She shoved the sleeves of her sweater up.
“What the fuck?”
She held her forearms up in front of her, palms facing her, as if she were a doctor heading into surgery. The bruises were just starting to form; by tomorrow they would be much darker and angrier looking.
He rubbed a thumb softly over the bruise, then put her arms down to view it from the other side. “Shit. Who did this?”
She didn’t need to say it but confirmed anyway. “Piers.”
“Motherfucker. That bartender didn’t do anything then either?”
She shook her head.
“Then he’s fucking fired. Low, man, take a look at this.”
Oh, jeez. Would the humiliations never end?
Captain came over as he hung up, his nostrils flaring as he caught sight of her arms. “Fuck. Piers?”
She didn’t need to answer, as Hector did it for her. “Yeah, man. Think we can get him on assault?”
Assault!
“Maybe. Millie, you want to press charges?”
Her head went into an immediate shake.
Captain glanced at Hector, then back to her, his eyes troubled. “Millie, I think you should. The state he’s in, who knows what else he could decide to do. At the very least, it should be on record. Make a statement if you don’t want to press charges.”
Shit. Double shit.
They didn’t know.
Did they?
They couldn’t, not if they were asking her to do this. She and Piers had different last names—she had her mother’s—so maybe they didn’t know.
Yet, now she’d have to tell them, making her humiliation for the day complete.
She whispered. Even though Piers was several feet away in a booth, not paying them any attention at the moment, she still spoke as if he could hear her. “He’s my brother.”
Hector and Captain’s faces went blank.
She toyed with the hem of her sweater. “Piers. He’s my half-brother. I can’t…I don’t know if I can press charges, but I’ll make a statement.”
<
br /> She couldn’t bear to look at Hector. Knowing Piers was related to her would change things. It had happened before. People always assumed that she was like him, or that her blood was just as bad as his. As if she’d chosen to become part of this family. She wasn’t sure how the whole ‘existence’ thing worked, but she was pretty sure people didn’t get to choose their family. No way would she have chosen Piers for a brother, nor their derelict sperm donor as father.
“I didn’t realize, Millie.”
“It’s all right, Captain. You can probably guess why I wouldn’t mention it.”
“He treats you like shit,” Hector gruffed.
She still couldn’t look at him, so she just nodded. They’d both seen it firsthand, so there was no use in denying it.
“He’s as good as gone, Amelia.”
She finally met Hector’s eyes. There was something there. Earnestness? Protectiveness? She couldn’t quite say, but it made her feel warm down to her bones.
Despite the warmth, however, she also felt the weight of having family like Piers, family that didn’t give a damn about her except to walk all over her. People like that would never leave her alone. “He’ll never be gone.”
Hector opened his mouth to speak, but an officer entered the pub in that moment, another tall, hot man, this one with dark hair and startling blue eyes.
The officer assessed the scene, then turned to Captain, who he’d clearly recognized, and bowed. “Your Highness.”
Captain held out a hand. “Lorenzo. Captain, if you prefer a title.”
The officer nodded and shook it. His voice had a lilting Irish accent. “Officer Ronan Sullivan, Sir, but you can call me Sully. My partner’s on the way.”
Captain nodded. “This is Hector Perez—we both now co-own this property—and Amelia Asti.” Captain continued to give a rundown of what had happened thus far while Sully took notes.
“From the looks of things, we’ll want an official photographer here to document the scene. You said you’re changing the locks?”
Hector nodded and checked his watch. “They’ll be here in about an hour.”
“It may take a little longer than that to get everything down and take the witness statements, but not much longer.” Sully turned to Captain. “Sir, my CO—commanding officer—is also on his way. He’ll no doubt want to speak with you.”
Rush_Hector & Millie Page 3