Our Cruel Hearts

Chapter Three

"Clean vodka martini?" A voice sounds from over my shoulder. I look at the bartender and furrow my eyebrows in confusion. I glance over my shoulder and it takes everything in me not to snort out loud. The man from the stairs is towering over me and I'm met with the rich smell of his woody cologne permeating my personal space, I gulp.

"Ayla," He says, my name rolling off of his tongue like honey.

"And you are?" I ask, genuinely confused as to how he knows my name. He must be one of Luca's associates, unless Dom miraculously came up with a man to be planted in my way with the purpose of being a rebound, not something I'd put past her. Still, it's job I firmly believe this man would kill, even while he stands there clouding my senses and studying my face.

"You know who I am." He answers.

"Not sure I do, please remind me?" A small smirk threatens at the corners of his mouth and the skin around his eyes crinkle.

"Griffin, Griffin Marbroi." I'm sipping on my martini and nearly spew it out of my mouth at his words. Damn.

"I-, you're their son?" I stutter over my words and feel as though the ground has fallen out from beneath me.

"I am indeed." He smiles and turns to the bartender, "Whiskey neat, please." He speaks with authority, as if there is no one who would reject a word he says. He is still towering over me, leaning on the bar with one arm and the other placing money on the table for the bartender. Guess my drink wasn't on the house then, screw me.

"That's for her drink as well," He says as his onyx eyes scan mine.

"Drinks," I correct him, my gaze faltering. He bites back a smile and gestures for the bartender to accept the money then takes his seat next to me.

"I hope you don't plan on staying long, I'm sure there are many eager people waiting to meet you." I say, not really thinking as the words escape my mouth.

"They can certainly wait a little longer while I make the acquaintance of my new assistant," His eyebrows raise as his eyes trail over my body, taking in the sight of me. I swallow, my next words running through my mind.

"I'm already hired?" I question, genuinely confused.

"There weren't many applicants willing to be around me and my charming personality constantly," He makes an attempt at a joke and I snort.

"I wonder why," I bite back, my words only registering as stupid, and not quite a good idea to say to my new boss. If only my brain would get that message before the words escape my mouth. I'm sure I should be concerned with the lack of applicants for his assistant, maybe it should be a warning of some sort. And logically, I would read it as a warning and protect myself. The thing is that I am literally taking on a mission that puts me in harm's way, that is the whole point of it. I meet his eyes again, not on purpose but I swear his are magnetic. He licks his bottom lip and I study his face, light freckles line his nose and he has stubble you'd only notice this close to him. He stares at me again, he's practically undressing me with his eyes and I clear my throat.

"Everything will be arranged miss Reyes, you just show up to work on Monday," He winks, grabs his whiskey and approaches another group across the room. I watch as he walks away, trying to process our conversation as I watch his shoulders move. He is tall as hell and isn't hard to miss in the crowd. I quickly scan the room again looking for Mr.Marbroi, the one who's assistant I was meant to be. According to Luca. Thoughts cloud my mind and I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to do now, I would go home but I don't think that would be good gala etiquette if that's a thing. I notice a group of people in a branching room across from the bar and decide to explore it to pass time. Going upstairs would be ideal but I'm not certain that area is within gala range or off limits. As I cross the room I notice Vicky staring me down, her face puzzled and looking a lot less friendly than it did earlier on. I brush it off and continue on my mission, as I reach the other room I'm met with cool air and a whole lot of nothingness. Paintings line each of the four walls, and a bronze plaque hangs on the wall in front of me and it reads, Marbroi gallery. I'm sorry what? This family has an art gallery dedicated to them? Either they're insanely important or I'm missing something. People stand around and sip champagne as they observe the paintings. An activity I've never quite understood, maybe because I'm not an artist or maybe because I have the sentiment that life moves too fast to stand around and stare at paintings. I stand, watching and observing the people rather than the paintings when a youthful voice sounds from behind me. "Ayla?"