Sinful Enemy by Vivian Wood

Author:Vivian Wood [Wood, Vivian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Vivian Veritas LLC

Chapter Nineteen

Luca

The next week of work is a nightmare. Missing liquor shipments, employees calling out sick at the last possible moment, artist’s managers being hard to touch base with.

But by far the worst thing is having to watch Cate running around my bar, showing absolutely zero signs of regret for what she said in my bedroom. It kills me to be this fucking stressed out and know that when I go home, she’ll still be there. And she’ll be fine.

Smiling at everyone else but me. Chatting with them, getting really comfortable in her new job as a bar back slash waitress.

It pisses me off to no end.

Even now, as I finish prepping some extra lemon and lime juice for Bradford at the end of a rush, I spend the entire time glaring at Cate.

I mean, who does she think she is? With her easy smile and her quick service, she’s becoming one of Bradford’s favorites. But she essentially ignores me and avoids me, which really fucking irritates me.

I’m the one paying her. She’s living in my house. It’s only a few weeks until Madisyn’s wedding but I’m seriously considering just giving Cate her money and having my lawyer file for the annulment sooner than planned.

“Hey!” Bradford says, snapping his fingers. “You are bruising all the oranges!”

I look down at the crate of citrus I’m holding and realize that he’s right. I’ve been pressing the lid down on the crate and staring off into space for a few minutes.

“Sorry,” I say with a shrug. “It’s been one of those weeks.”

Bradford frowns and takes the crate out of my hands. “You don’t have to take it out on the innocent citrus fruit. They didn’t put your panties in a twist.”

I roll my eyes. “Is there anything else you need me to do?”

He purses his lips, giving me a once over. “We’re almost out of chai-infused shrub… Honey… maybe you should just go home. We’re at the end of the rush anyway.”

I glare at him. “You’re telling me to go home now?”

He crosses his arms, looking at the crowd skeptically. “I have no idea what exactly has crawled up your ass. I can only assume it has something to do with your wife. But honestly, I’d rather deal with being in the weeds alone than put up with your huffing and moping for another second.”

That sets me back for a second. Bradford is usually so cheerful. He is the last person on the staff to hassle anyone unless he thinks they’re intentionally being lazy or unhelpful.

Before I can formulate exactly what I’m going to say, the front door of the Attic opens. I turn, expecting it to be more bar flies.

But I freeze when I see my mother and father breeze through the door. They are dressed eccentrically, like a wealthy and dapper couple straight out of the 1950s. My mom is in a dark grey coat with a pink dress peeping out of the bottom. My father takes off his hat, his dark suit and dark overcoat making him look like Cary Grant.

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