Her Flaws, His Bliss

Kind Not Cash

April

“I'm sorry, Miss Mccarthy, there's nothing more we can do for your mother. She needs those drugs or else her condition is going to worsen.”

I shook the thoughts off my mind as I stepped into the Casino. Maybe I could ask Marco for a loan…for the third time this year. He wasn’t exactly a good person. I’d use the word obnoxious. Who even names a casino after themselves? Mtchew!

“Hey, April”

If not for her tiny voice, I wouldn’t have known it was Kia who dragged me behind the counter. “You’re late.”

I checked my watch. I was eight minutes late. f**k!

“Marco is here and he’s in a very bad mood. He’ll probably tear you apart. Try to keep your head down if possible. You know you already have two strikes.”

“He really needs to go f**k himself” I snapped nonchalantly.

“Hey, what's wrong with you?” Kia asked with concern written all over her face. “I thought you needed the job.”

Of course I do. At least I’ve been able to feed my family while I study for my masters online. Mom’s sickness isn’t helping my financial plan either. I’m just too cranky for the day.

“You had better keep whatever you have to yourself to save your head. You know…shit! Marco is coming. Focus!”

“See who has finally decided to bless us with her presence,” Marco said when he reached the counter.

I could feel his eyes on me, like a predator sizing up its prey. I kept my gaze down, pretending to busy myself with the stack of chips in front of me. I tried to ignore the lump growing in my throat. I couldn’t afford to lose this job. Not with Mom’s medication piling up. Not with all the debts I already had.

“Eleven minutes late,” he continued, his voice growing harder with every word.

Eight actually! I wanted to correct him, but there was no point.

“That’s strike three, April. And you know what happens after three strikes, don’t you?”

I swallowed hard, my hands gripping the counter as I felt the weight of his words settle over me. I wasn’t going to beg. Not in front of him, not in front of Kia, and definitely not in front of the rest of the staff who were probably eavesdropping from every corner. But I can’t lose this job either. I needed it.

“I…I’m sorry,” I muttered.

Shit! The words tasted like ash in my mouth. Even if I agree I was eight minutes late, which didn’t violate the employee’s contract I signed when I got the job, the other strikes were because I refused to kiss his ass.

Marco leaned in. His cologne was pungent and made me want to gag.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it, sweetheart. Before I decide what to do with you, bring enough alcohol to that table.” he pointed to the last seat at the corner of the bar. “We’re mourning,” he whispered.

Sighing, I picked up a tray of drinks and sauntered into the center of the room. I didn’t know the best drink for mourning. I just served Marco’s best drink.

I was hoping he wouldn’t try s**t with me while I served him. He’s fond of that with the other girls. Then I saw him.

I froze for a second.

It was him. The tattooed guy from earlier…the one I had snapped at, the one who scared the life out of me with his cold, threatening presence. He was lounging in his chair like he owned the place. He had the same eerie calmness I’d felt when I first saw him. He hadn’t even changed his shirt.

My pulse quickened. His gaze hadn’t landed on me yet, but my heart was racing as if I were standing under a spotlight. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Here? Of all places?

I sucked in a shaky breath and tried to collect myself. I just had to serve the drinks and get out of there. Simple. But as I moved closer, my hand started trembling. Damn it, April. Get a grip!

Neither he nor Marco were looking in my direction. I bent over the table to place the drinks when it happened. My fingers slipped. Before I could catch it, the glass tipped over and spilled all over the man’s wrist.

Damn! Time seemed to freeze. I watched in horror as the liquid dripped onto his watch. My breath caught in my throat. Oh God. Oh no, no, no…

“s**t,” the man yelled.

I scrambled to grab a napkin. “I’m…I’m so sorry..”

Before I could even touch his arm to dab at the spilled drink, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist…hard.

Shit!, he can’t see my face. He warned me about that earlier. I quickly looked away. My face to the floor.

“Do you know how much this watch costs?” Marco’s voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

“I’m...I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to..” I stammered, trying to pull my wrist free. He released my wrist with a forceful shove that nearly sent me stumbling back.

“This is a f*****g Patek Philippe. Limited edition.” Marco’s tone was cold, and I could hear the seething rage beneath it. “You’ll pay for it, April. You’ll work it off. Every cent of it.”

What? How? I forgot I was hiding from the other man. I stepped forward, pleading. “I can’t, Marco. This thing’s worth more than I’ll ever make in a year.”

The man had been silent the entire time, but I could feel his eyes boring into me. He finally stepped forward, a sneer forming on his lips as he leaned in close. “April…” he drawled.

He didn’t recognize me, did he? I guess not.

“How about you pay, not in cash…but in kind?”

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