𝐿𝐼𝑀𝐼𝑇𝐿𝐸𝑆𝑆 | 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐍

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

—𝐵𝑜𝑏𝑏𝑦—

𝐈

𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐁𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐒 pushing the wine cart again. He much preferred that to serving champagne from a tray—less room for clumsiness.

Scanning the room for empty glasses, he let out a long sigh. This job was terribly boring—and getting looked down upon wasn't exactly his ideal way to spend the night—but until his aim was accurate and his plan was perfected, he couldn't do anything except suck it up and deal with it.

He was getting better with faces. Of course, there were some who he had known from the start, mainly the ones who worked for the government—and those were always the same assholes that beckoned him over with a twitch of the finger and a whistle. The same ones who snickered and complained whenever he poured a type of wine in the wrong glass or didn't come to them fast enough. There was a special place in Hell for those guys—but they weren't important enough for him to pay too much mind to, anyway.

He slowly pushed the wine cart down the room, letting his eyes linger at the tables long enough to check for glasses but not too long so that the guests didn't sneer at him for invading their privacy.

Bobby always put himself on autopilot on these nights. It was the exact same thing, over and over: Get called over, ask if they wanted red or white, pour it into the corresponding wine glass, and then be shooed away. It didn't take much thinking. He just wanted to get it over with.

As he poured some white wine for an American visitor, he thought about his next match, which was set to be the next night. He was going to fight the Lizard King, and Tiger had already given him his instructions. Win the first round, lose the other two. Easy enough. He wasn't looking forward to the beating, but the money would be well worth it.

He glanced at Aditi as she passed him, her hands full with a champagne tray. She had been to his last couple of fights, all with the courtesy of knowing the exact outcome. She had even paid him some of her winnings as a thanks—a generous twenty percent.

He moved his cart to the corner of the room, shuffling a couple of the bottles in the ice bucket. His gaze caught Aditi again as she stopped at a booth a few feet away from him. At first, he figured whoever was sitting there had called her over for some champagne—and then he realized that the booth was empty.

He repositioned himself so that it looked like he was fixing up his cart, but his eyes stayed on her. She set her tray down, which now only had a few flutes left, and slightly moved them around. Anyone who spared her a glance would think she was adjusting something; but Bobby could tell she had something else in mind.

His eyebrows furrowed as he watched her hand trail a little further than the tray and grab something from the table.

Was that the menu?

Baffled, he watched as she quickly tucked the menu into her skirt and adjusted her apron to conceal it. He quickly turned his attention to the wine as she glanced around, and by the time he had looked back, she was on the other side of the room.

He frowned as he straightened up. Why the hell did she need a menu?

Perhaps he should ask her later—though he wasn't sure whether or not to expect a truthful answer. It wasn't like he had given her one when she asked.

All he knew, is that she just became a little more interesting.

"Hey, man, what are you doing, lounging around? Move your ass!"

"Sorry, Alphonso," Bobby mumbled, strengthening his grip before pushing it down the aisle.

As he poured some white wine for a couple of police officers, he glanced toward Aditi, who seemed to be acting normally.