Page 24 of The Girlfriend Card (Vegas Sin #4)

Figured it Out

Ottavia

T he late afternoon sun shone through BarDown’s wall of windows, its golden rays spilling over the rustic slab tables and hardwood floors, making the whole place come alive with a sheen luster.

As two o’clock approached, the once vibrant buzz of conversation, the infectious laughter, and the clattering of plates and tinkling of glasses all gradually receded into the background.

The bustling hectic energy that defined the lunch rush began to ebb away, giving way to a serene stillness that settled over the restaurant like a relieved but happy sigh.

A collective sense of accomplishment permeated the air, and we workers carried ourselves with a quiet satisfaction.

This was my favorite time of day—and not just because my shift was almost over. Actually, I know it’s kind of lame to admit, but I always get a little bummed when it’s time to clock out, because I love my job. Really!

Standing at the host’s table, I busily rolled flatware in cloth napkins. Making sure the host’s table was stocked for the evening shift was my last task of the day.

The door swung open, and an attractive couple walked in for a late lunch. They looked so happy and in love, holding hands and smiling, without a care in the world.

I greeted the couple and whisked them off to their tables.

Sure, I felt a small pang of envy, because I’d never known the joy of taking off work early, and having a boozy lunch with the love of your life.

But at this point? I’d come to accept, more or less, that my life had certain advantages and disadvantages.

And whining about the stupid small things I’d missed out on was really entitled.

When I told him I was working here, Dad was confused at first. He said it was “beneath me,” but I didn’t think that, nor did I care that I was making “shit money,” as he called it. It felt so good to be productive. And I loved my coworkers; I’d made so many new friends.

When I first started working here, I’ll admit, I was super nervous about the rest of the crew not accepting me because of my background. I didn’t use a fake name or try to hide who I was or anything like that, but I certainly didn’t shout my background from the rooftops, either.

But it took approximately two days before the kitchen’s most boisterous line cook, renowned for his ability to bust everyone’s balls, stopped me in the break room.

“Capuano, eh?” he asked, a glimmer of mischief dancing in his eyes.

I nodded my head, staring at my lunch, hoping he’d take mercy on me and just move on.

But he didn’t. He stood there, watching me poke at my Caesar salad instead.

“Isn’t your dad that billionaire asshole? The guy that owns the casinos? Sal, right?”

“Yeah,” I murmured.

His eyes narrowed at me skeptically, judgmentally. “So … why the hell are you working in a restaurant with the rest of us scrubs?”

My heart raced. I didn’t know what to say. So I just told him the truth.

“Because I wanted to work while I’m home for the summer. I’ve never had a job before, so I thought a restaurant was a good place to start.”

I was fearful he wouldn’t accept my reasoning, and worried he might get angry that I’d taken a job away from someone who actually needed it.

The cook’s bottom lip jutted out as he considered my words. “No shit? Huh. That’s cool, actually. Respect.” With a shrug, he smiled, and offered me a fist bump. “Welcome aboard, Ottavia.”

We bumped fists, and that was that! Ever since, everyone’s been nothing but amazing to me. When I’m at work, I feel like I’m just part of the crew. I feel like a normal girl.

Sure … I have approximately one year left before I graduate from college, and will have to marry Leo … at which point, as wife of the son of the potential President, I won’t be “allowed” to work in a restaurant anymore …

But if I think about it too much, I feel like my insides get all tight, and I can’t breathe. Life is easier when I’m not thinking about the future. I can’t do anything about the future anyway, so why stress about it?

For now, at least, all that matters is, my coworkers accept me as one of their own.

“Hey, Ottavia! Sorry I’m late!” Sienna, the first of the evening hostesses to arrive and one of my new work friends, joined me at the host’s table. “I couldn’t find parking.”

“No worries!” I said.

We made small talk while Sienna set up for her shift. Just when I was about to surrender the host’s table to her, the door opened.

“Hey, I got this, if you wanna take off,” Sienna said.

“Sure.”

But before I could leave, though, Sienna hooked her arm through mine and stopped me.

“ Wait, ” she whispered, pulling me closer. “Don’t be obvious. But look who just walked in.”

Casually, I turned around and glanced towards the front door.

A sense of dread gripped me, my stomach stirring, when I saw the tall and handsome athlete stride in. I almost refused to believe it was him, but—

“ That’s Dakota Easton,” Sienna whispered. “He plays for the Sin.”

“O-oh, he does?” I stammered, feigning ignorance.

“He’s a player in both senses of the word, too,” she snickered.

I felt myself shrink. Great … good to know.

“But that’s one of the major perks of working here,” she added. “Sometimes, the players themselves come in.”

Funny , I thought, because I had the opposite opinion—that was one of the only downsides of working at BarDown. Since Brett and Dakota were friends, I feared it was only a matter of time until Dakota and I crossed paths again.

And now that we had?

I peeked up, running my eyes over him as he approached.

Even though it’d only been two weeks, he looked different than the last time I saw him.

His shoulders had broadened, and his arms had thickened, his muscles bulging in a tight-fitting tee.

Even his face had hardened, somehow, like he’d aged, in a good way, over the past two weeks.

I hate to say it, but he looked even hotter than the first time we’d met …

Dakota neared, standing on the other side of the host’s table.

I kept my gaze trained on the floor because I couldn’t bear to look at him.

My heart jumped into my throat, and a surge of conflicting emotions welled inside me.

I still liked him, I guess, but I knew what he thought of me—that I was a cheating, lying slut, probably.

But even if, against all odds, Dakota had a change of heart? It didn’t matter. I’d accepted how the rest of my life was going to play out … and Dakota was a threat to everything that had been planned for me.

“Hi, Dakota!” Sienna cheered.

“Hey there,” he said.

“Are you eating by your lonesome today?”

“I hope not,” he said.

He turned his eyes to me.

“Hi, Ottavia.”

“Hi,” I muttered.

Sienna’s eyes widened with surprise. “Oh! You two know each other?” She leaned in and whispered, “Damn, girl. Way to go!”

Yeah … not so sure about that …

Sienna grabbed a pair of menus. “A table for two, then?” she asked, glancing at me with a sparkle in her eye.

“No—” I began to grumble, but Dakota beat me to the punch.

“That’d be perfect,” he said. “Thank you.”

Sienna led me and Dakota to the upper level of the restaurant and seated us at a booth.

We were the only table to be seated in our area—but that didn’t mean we were alone.

I noticed the commotion happening in the background, as cooks, servers, busboys, and managers came out of every nook and cranny to get a glance at us, gossip already swirling—

Wait, isn’t that the new girl?

What’s she doing with Dakota Easton?!

“So glad to see you again,” Dakota said, smiling at me. “It’s crazy you work here. I hear you’re killing it?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I muttered.

“Brett was definitely singing your praises, and—”

I let out a heavy sigh. “Dakota, you shouldn’t have come here.”

He reared back, surprised. “Why not?”

“Because everyone here knows who you are.”

Not understanding the problem, his eyebrow arched. “So?”

I hinted that he look at the wait station across the floor, where a server and two bus boys gawked at us, whispering among themselves. When Dakota turned and glanced in their direction, they bolted, caught.

“ That’s why.” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know if you’ve ever worked in a restaurant before, but I’m never going to hear the end of this. It’s going to be common BarDown lore that the billionaire’s daughter is fucking the bad boy of hockey.”

“Then fuck it,” he said, and abruptly began sliding out of the booth to leave. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

“No. Don’t.” I grabbed his hand and stopped him from going. “There’s no point. They’ve already seen us. It’ll only look more suspicious if we run out before we order.”

He frowned. “Hey, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to make any problems for you.”

“Oh well. It’s too late now.”

Our server swooped by. “Hi! Can I get you two something to drink? A Golden Son for you, Dakota?”

All the beers at BarDown were named after the hockey players and their archetypes. Since I started working here, I’d learned that Dakota’s beer was a lager named “The Golden Son,” but I didn’t know why.

He declined the beer. “Just water for me, thanks.”

I wanted water, too—and since we were ready, we put in our order for food. The server left us and we were alone again.

“So what’d you come here for, Dakota?” I asked once we were alone again.

“I had to see you,” he said, his eyes sparkling with determination.

“Why?”

“Because I finally figured it out, Ottavia.”

“Figured what out?”

“What you were trying to tell me before.”

I didn’t want to get my hopes up. “About what?”

“You know, the other week? After Leo busted us, and you were texting me?”

Fidgeting with my hands, I feigned ignorance. “Sorry, I … I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, you do. You said he’s not really your boyfriend—”

I held a finger to my lips and shushed him. “Please. Not so loud.”