Our Secret Summer(27)

“It’s Elle,” I whisper curtly as I start to move around him. It’s easier said than done. The club is so packed tonight I’ll have to snake through bodies to get back to the bar. Of course it would be easier to move if Cristiano’s broad chest wasn’t blocking my path.

I look up, not bothering to hide my impatience. “Did you need something? Your friends are waiting for you.”

I’m only guessing, but I’m sure I’m right.

Cristiano takes his sweet time gazing down at me, a ghost of a smile hovering on his lips. “Hugo informed me that our musical act asked about you.”

I rear back in surprise. “The Boréal guy?”

Cristiano nods, glancing briefly at my lips before returning his attention to my eyes to better study my reaction to this news. “He requested your name and number.”

A laugh tumbles out of me before I can cover my mouth with my hand.

Oh, this is too good. Simone is going to flip out when I confirm that her silly plan worked.

“Did Hugo give it to him?” I ask, sounding hopeful.

I don’t actually want to date the DJ, but I’m still curious.

Cristiano’s dark brows tug together as his expression hardens. “No. Hugo told him if he wants your number, he can get it himself. We don’t give out our servers’ personal information, it’s against the law. You understand, I’m sure. I hope you aren’t upset.”

“Upset?” I smile with glee. “That’s even better. That way he’ll have to work for it. A little chase never hurt anyone.”

I start to move around him with every intention of ending our conversation there, but he takes my arm, not hard, though his grip certainly makes it clear I’m supposed to stay right where I am.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I ask with an innocent flutter of my eyelashes.

He regards me impassively. “I assumed you knew better, Isabel.”

“It’s Elle,” I correct for the second time. “And I do know better. I’m not going to date the guy.” And then, because I can’t help but wonder how much more lighter fluid this blaze can possibly withstand, I tack on, “Or who knows, maybe I will.”

He doesn’t take the bait. Instead, a slow, knowing smile unfurls across his lips. He can see right through me. How perfectly annoying.

“What?” I challenge, continuing on as if I’m completely oblivious to the situation at hand. “You think I’ll break his heart?”

“You’re trying to provoke me.”

“And you’re drawing attention.”

He doesn’t move his hand. Stupid silly butterflies swarm my stomach. “Stop scowling at me and people wouldn’t be so curious about our conversation.”

I throw my head back and offer up a big fake laugh. “Ha ha ha! Cristiano, stop! You’re too funny!”

Then immediately after, I drop the act. My pointed gaze says, There, better?

He’s smiling, obviously amused. His hand finally eases on my arm, but he lets his fingers linger on my skin—igniting tendrils of heat in my low belly—before he pulls away altogether.

He glances around my section. “How many tables do you have right now?”

“Four.” I watch helplessly as three guys claim the last vacant spot in my area. I’m now officially swamped. “Make that five.”

Cristiano reads the worry on my face. “That’s too many for a new server.”

“Annika manages six or seven tables just fine.”

“Yes, but wasn’t she here last summer?”

I lift my chin defiantly. “I can handle it. I’m not your concern.”

One cynical arched brow challenges me to see the error in that statement. Right. While he’s not personally responsible for my well-being, I am his employee, and my customer service and ability to handle this crowd directly reflect on his club and, by extension, him.

Through this exchange we’ve moved closer to each other inch by inch. I don’t know what I’m hoping to gain by going toe to toe with a man as commanding as he is. I’m already craning my neck to meet his stare. If I get any closer, our chests will touch.

I shiver at the thought.

It’s just… he’s so damn good-looking. I hate him a little for it. I hate him a lot for thinking he needs to look after me.

We’re still looking at each other—warring, more like it—when one of the women I saw walking in Cristiano’s entourage earlier strolls up behind him and drapes a possessive arm over his shoulder.

Her red lips curl into a smile when she leans over to whisper in his ear. “Coming up, Cristiano, baby?”

Hearing her endearment for him makes my mood immediately sour. I take in her curvy figure and the sparkly silver minidress that sticks to every contour of her body. I can’t show even a hint of my true feelings about her, though, because Cristiano is watching me. I hope I look completely unbothered.

“I’ll be up in a bit,” he tells her, stepping to the side so her hand slides off him.

I don’t wait to see anything else. If she’s about to jut out her bottom lip and pout, I’d rather not see it. If she wants to drag him away, be my guest.

I whirl around and head in a different direction, content to cut around the tables and take the long way to get to the computers. When I can’t resist the urge to check over my shoulder, I find that Cristiano is still looking at me. I blush and immediately duck my head, eager to disappear into the thick crowd.