From Heartbreak to High Society-Chapter 12: Beyond the Bar

I moved through the bar with practiced efficiency, but my mind kept circling back to Damien's words. A job offer? My hands trembled slightly as I poured drinks, causing a splash of beer to foam over the edge of a glass.

"Sorry about that," I muttered to the customer, quickly wiping up the spill.

Every time I passed Damien's table, I felt the weight of his gaze. He sat there, one hand wrapped around a glass of scotch, watching me work with an intensity that made my skin tingle. I tried to focus on my tasks - delivering plates, taking orders, making change - but his presence filled the room like a magnetic force.

Tony caught my eye from behind the bar and raised an eyebrow. I shrugged, attempting to appear casual as I dropped off another round of drinks to the birthday group. Their laughter and chatter provided a welcome distraction, but even then, I could sense Damien observing my interactions, studying how I handled the customers.

"Can I get you anything else?" I asked a couple at table six, my voice steadier than I felt.

The dinner rush picked up, and I fell into the familiar rhythm of service. Plates clattered, ice clinked in glasses, and the murmur of conversation filled the air. Yet through it all, I remained acutely aware of Damien's presence. He hadn't moved from his spot, hadn't checked his phone or shown any signs of impatience. He simply watched, those blue eyes following my movements across the floor.

I grabbed a rag and wiped down an empty table, my thoughts racing. What kind of job could he possibly want to offer me? And why was he spending his evening watching me tend bar? The questions swirled in my head as I collected empty glasses and dodged around other servers.

A glass shattered somewhere in the kitchen, and I jumped, nearly dropping my tray. When I glanced at Damien's table, I caught the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Heat crept up my neck as I turned away, embarrassed by my reaction.

I wiped down another table, stealing glances at the clock. The last customers filtered out, leaving behind empty glasses and crumpled napkins. My feet ached from hours of running between tables, but the familiar end-of-shift tasks kept me moving.

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Tony emerged from his office, keys jingling in his hand. He walked over to Damien's table, clearing his throat.

"Sir, we're closing up for the night. I'll need to ask you to-"

Damien leaned forward, gesturing Tony closer. His voice dropped to a whisper, but I caught Tony's expression shift from polite dismissal to keen interest. My boss's eyebrows shot up, and he straightened his posture.

"Of course, Mr. Blake. Take all the time you need." Tony's voice carried across the empty bar. He turned toward me with an odd look, then retreated to his office without another word.

I focused on stacking chairs, pretending I hadn't noticed the exchange. The mop bucket squeaked across the floor as I pushed it toward the last section that needed cleaning. Sarah usually handled this part, but she hadn't shown up for work all week after the wedding disaster.

My arms moved in automatic circles with the mop, but my mind raced. What had Damien said to make Tony change his tune so quickly? The owner never let anyone stay past closing - not even on holidays when desperate customers begged for one last drink.

The investment comment must have worked its magic. Tony had been trying to renovate the bar for months, but the banks kept denying his loan applications. I'd overheard enough of his frustrated phone calls to know how much that bothered him.

Damien remained at his table, patient as a statue, while I finished my closing duties. His presence made my hands clumsy as I counted out my register drawer. The numbers blurred together twice before I got them right.

The sweep of the mop smoothed the last of the day's mess under my feet. I straightened, dropped the mop back into its bucket, and glanced around the empty bar. The only light now came from the sconces by the door and the low lamps on the bar itself, lending the place an air of intimacy.

Damien caught my eye, and the intensity in his gaze made me pause. Something indefinable shifted in the air between us as he stood. I tugged self-consciously at the hem of my shirt, wishing for a clean apron to cover the stains.

He approached with the same measured confidence he wore in the boardroom, but his eyes were warm. His suit jacket opened slightly, revealing a flash of the crisp white shirt beneath. All I could think was how nice it would be to lean against that chest and forget all the complications of my life, if only for a moment.

My breath hitched as he stopped at my side, and my palms tingled with anticipation. I held myself very still, unsure of what to expect. His expression softened, and I saw him take in the exhaustion and tension in my face.

"I know it's late, and you've been working hard," he began, his voice deep and even, "but I wanted to speak with you in person about my job offer."

My heart stuttered, and my mind spun with questions. "I... I'm listening," I managed to say, my voice coming out stronger than I felt.

"Excellent." His eyes held mine for a long moment, as if gauging my response. "I'm looking for an artist to create a series of paintings for my new hotel chain. Large abstract pieces. I believe your style would be perfect. I'd like to commission you for the project, Ella."

His words hung in the air between us. I felt lightheaded, my heart pounding in my chest. The weight of his offer settled on my shoulders, and my mouth went dry.

"You have a talent, Ella, and it deserves to be recognized. Your paintings in the exhibit—they moved something in me. I want to give you a chance to share your art with the world." His voice, usually so controlled, held a note of passion that made my skin prickle.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My mind raced, swirling with doubts and hopes. Could I trust this was real? Was I ready to take such a leap?

His eyes searched mine, waiting for an answer. "I want to say yes," I blurted out, surprising myself. "But it's... it's a lot to take in."

A small smile played at his lips. "I understand. This is a big decision. Take your time." He paused, considering me for a long moment. "But I hope you'll give it serious thought, Ella. I have a feeling you won't regret it."

I swallowed, nodding slowly. "I will."

He placed a business card on the table, offering a small, private smile. "This has my personal number. Call me when you've made up your mind."