Okay, three weeks, five days, and six hours, but who was counting?

Someone called Staci's name, and she whirled away.

There was an uncharacteristic break in the customers at the bar, so I quickly grabbed a cloth and wiped surfaces down. I glanced around. The crowd was starting to build. It wouldn't be long before the club was pumping.

This was light-years away from my busy career in PR and marketing. Emotions hit me like a kick to the gut.

Sucking in a breath, I wrestled them back down. I thought time would help make things easier, but so far it hadn't.

My old life was gone. My challenging, corporate job was gone. My cute apartment was gone. My parents were…

The shot of pain almost made me double over.

I lifted my chin, fighting back the tears. That life was over. Now, I was a bartender. I rubbed the throb growing in the side of my head.

Just pour the drinks, Mila.

I threw the cloth back in the sink, scootching out of the way as one of the male bartenders, Eli, brushed past me. Time to get my focus back on work.

One of the servers, Jules, arrived at the bar. "Mila, need a Jack and Coke, one flaming Hurricane, and one blazing Vieux Carre."

"On it." I grabbed some glasses and set to work. I turned to the wall of alcohol and tuned out everything else. Flaming drinks were a specialty at Ember, and the customers loved them—especially the tourists.

I quickly made the drinks, lit them up, and slid them across the bar. Jules smiled and loaded her tray.

A large group of customers entered, all laughing and looking to party. Soon, it was too busy for me to think. My hands didn't stop. Glasses, ice, booze, slice of lemon, lighter to ignite the flames.

I spent the next hour slinging drinks. Some shifts I worked out on the floor—and let me tell you, carrying a tray loaded with drinks is nerve-wracking. I liked it much better behind the bar.

Suddenly, I felt a ripple go through the crowd, and my belly tightened. Without looking up, I knew what caused it.

Or rather, who.

Finally, I couldn't stop myself from raising my head.

And there he was, sauntering through the crowd like he owned the place. Which he did.

Dante Fury. Owner of Ember.

My hand curled around a bottle of Jack Daniels.

He wore tailored, black pants, and a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

The shirt showed off the corded muscles of his forearms and his olive-brown skin, and the fabric strained against his biceps.

He had black ink on one arm. He moved in a powerful, supple way, his stride sure and measured.

It made me think of a warrior…no, a king in his domain.

His hair was black, thick, and tousled. Like he often ran a hand through it.

A dark, sexy beard covered a strong jaw.

He cut through the crowd like some sort of midnight predator. My throat got tight every time I saw him. He had an aura about him that made it impossible to look away.

He had this lock of dark hair that always fell over his forehead, and my hand desperately wanted to push it away.

Dammit .

I made myself look away, and set the bottle back on the shelf.

It didn't matter how sexy and attractive Dante Fury was. I was in hiding. I couldn't get close to anyone, or I could end up dead. Plus he was my boss.

My pulse skittered, and I couldn't help but look back at him. He was talking with one of the servers, Jessica. Checking in. He did that every few hours, chatting with the VIPs, talking with the staff, looking for problems.

Dante drew closer to the bar. I saw the way men eyed him, standing a little straighter and sucking in their guts. There was no gut on Dante. His was as flat as a board, and was the perfect complement to his broad shoulders.

Women watched him too—hungry and dazed.

"God, that man is prime fantasy material." Beside me, Staci let out a gusty sigh.

"I've contemplated naming my vibrator after him, but I decided it was skeevy to call it Dante.

" She eyed him. "Still, the man is so fine in that dark, dangerous, just know he'd pin a woman down and fuck her hard kind of way. "

" Staci ."

She rolled her eyes at me and grinned. "Come on, Mila. You're quiet, but I've seen you eye-fuck the man when no one is looking."

I choked, grateful that it was dim enough that she couldn't see the heat in my cheeks.

Staci slapped me on the back. "No judgment here. He's worth an eye fuck." She sighed. "It's a damn shame he never messes around where he works. Never flirts with the customers, never takes them back to his office, and that goes double for staff."

In my few weeks here, I'd never seen a single hint of him flirting, or anything.

Staci leaned in. "I heard he was seen with some fancy assistant district attorney a couple of times. Figures he'd go for smart and classy."

My stomach did a weird flip. And then I noticed Dante was heading our away.

I straightened. "How about we make some drinks?"

Staci leaned closer. "Are you blushing?"

"No."

She grinned. "You so are blushing."

"No, but I'm thinking about giving you a black eye."

Staci laughed. I looked up and locked eyes with Dante.

He moved toward the bar, and I couldn't look away. Every single part of me shivered, filled with energy.

He had dark eyes. They looked like chips of obsidian. Deep, dark, unfathomable pools.

"Mila. How's it going this evening?"

Gah . It was all kinds of unfair that on top of his looks, he had a deep, panty-melting drawl with a touch of grit.

"Great." I managed a nod. "All good."

He cocked his head. "You sure?"

I felt a cold tickle down my spine. I always got the sense he knew I was hiding something. Like he wanted to know all my secrets.

I straightened. No one got my secrets. They were too horrible and too dangerous.

I knew Dante and his brothers stood up to the darker underbelly of New Orleans—the gangs, the mobsters, the criminals. But that didn't mean I'd bare my soul. Not when it could end with me with a bullet in my brain.

"Very sure." I pasted on a smile.

He watched me for a long second with those endless, dark eyes. "Are you closing tonight?"

My heart did a little jump. "Yes. Venus needs to get home. One of her kids has a dance thing tomorrow."

"Good. I've got some whiskey samples from a local distillery. I know you like your whiskey, so maybe you can try them with me? I need to decide if I want to stock them or not."

I nodded, my belly twisting. Oh, hell . A late-night close with Dante. "Happy to help. Oh, and I have a new cocktail creation I think the customers would like."

His teeth flashed white against his skin. "You and your cocktails."

"Hey, the Fiery Phoenix has been super popular." I'd made up the cocktail a week ago and the clientele loved it.

"I know." He held up a hand. "You try my whiskey, I'll try your new cocktail."

I almost said it's a date' but managed to stifle the words. It wasn't a date. It would never be a date. "I'd better get these drinks made. Thirsty customers."

I whirled away, but I felt his gaze digging into my back.

When I glanced his way again, he was gone. I blew out a breath and my shoulders sagged. I needed to definitely not get too close to Dante Fury.

The rest of my shift was a blur—tipsy customers, lots of drinks, sore feet.

And somehow, from time to time, I still felt Dante's gaze on me.

Shaking my head, I reached for a cocktail glass. You're imagining things, Mila.

DANTE

Standing at the large window in my office, I watched the club through the one-way glass.

Mine .

As I took in the dark floor, the gold ceiling, and long bar along the wall—not to mention the clubgoers spending lots of money at my bar—I clasped my hands behind my back.

All mine, and I was fucking proud of it. I'd planned every detail, picked every staff member, managed every aspect. My staff was currently switching to clean-up mode, as closing time drew nearer. They were the embodiment of a well-oiled machine.

I wouldn't accept anything less.

Heading toward the low, wooden cabinet against the far wall, I reached for the decanter full of my favorite bourbon resting on top of it. I grabbed a crystal tumbler, and poured a splash.

I wouldn't have more than one, not while the club was open. I only indulged when I was at home, with my brothers. It was the only time I let my guard down.

Swirling the liquor, I turned back to the window. My desk was behind me, and I should be sitting at it, dealing with work. My laptop was open, and I'd been sorting through orders and paperwork.

I sipped and enjoyed the sweet, smoky burn.

Letting my gaze drift over the crowd, I took in the dancers on the dance floor, the people standing at high tables sipping their drinks, the small groups in the VIP area. Everyone was behaving, and I knew I could trust my security team to spot any trouble.

Movement at the bar caught my attention. My newest hire, Mila Clarke.

She moved well, and was good at her job.

Organized and efficient. I frowned. I couldn't quite get a read on her.

She didn't have the vibe of a seasoned bartender.

The things that stood out the most were her bad dye job, and the fact that she was smart.

Really smart. She hadn't had much experience at first, but she'd picked things up quickly.

She was hard-working, I'd give her that.

She also had dark smudges under her eyes, and I wondered if she worked a day job, too.

The woman had high, thick walls. And she wasn't keen for anyone to penetrate them.

I understood that. Hell, I'd had my own version of that growing up.

My thoughts turned to her face. High cheekbones, perfectly shaped lips, and killer curves that her black trousers didn't hide. Plus, she had that glint in her gray eyes.

Sharp-edged secrets, but also a hint of challenge.

Like she was daring me to push her.

I muttered a curse and took another sip. She was my employee . One I suspected needed help.

There was a knock at my office door. I took another swig of the bourbon and set the glass down.