Bound By Lies - Rafe Cameron

Chapter 2

The smell of fresh-cut grass mixed with the tang of sunscreen and overpriced perfume as I walked through the sprawling grounds of the club. The uniform they'd given me felt stiff and awkward—black slacks, white collared shirt, and a name tag that read "Teresa." Not that anyone would bother remembering my name. To them, I was just another face, another set of hands to serve them drinks while they lounged in the sun.

The patrons here were a mix of older men in polo shirts and sunglasses, women with too much jewelry and not enough personality, and spoiled brats who acted like they owned the place. Spoiled brats like Rafe Cameron.

I'd heard whispers about him all day—mostly complaints from the other waitresses about his temper and his 'holier-than-thou' attitude. One girl warned me not to make eye contact unless I had a death wish. I'd laughed it off at the time, but now, standing in front of him, I understood what she meant.

"Hey!" Rafe's voice snapped through the air, cutting off whatever the girl next to him had been saying. His ice-blue eyes locked onto me, dark and intense. "Where's my drink?"

I bit back an eye roll, forcing a smile onto my face as I turned toward him. "What drink would that be, sir?" I asked, adding extra emphasis on the 'sir' because I knew it would piss him off.

Sure enough, his eyes narrowed, lips curling into a sneer. "The bourbon I ordered ten minutes ago. Are you deaf, or just stupid?"

My smile tightened. I hadn't been on the job for more than an hour, and already I was dealing with this jackass. "Actually, I wasn't the one who took your order, so I'm not sure—"

"You're supposed to know," he cut me off, voice dripping with condescension. He leaned back in his chair, the smirk on his face daring me to say something. "I'm paying your salary, sweetheart. The least you could do is your job."

Sweetheart? The word grated on my nerves. I gritted my teeth, holding back a snarky reply that would probably get me fired on the spot. I needed this job. I needed to be able to support Dad. But damn, it was hard to keep my cool when all I wanted to do was throw his stupid drink in his face.

"Apologies, Mr. Cameron," I said, keeping my voice even. "I'll get that for you right away."

"See that you do." He waved me off like I was some sort of annoyance.

As I turned to walk away, I couldn't resist muttering under my breath, "Asshole."

"What was that?" he called out, his voice sharp.

Shit. I turned back around slowly, keeping my expression blank. "I said I'll get that for you right away, sir."

He stared at me for a long moment, something dark flickering behind his eyes. Then, to my surprise, he laughed—a low, humorless sound that sent chills down my spine. "You've got a mouth on you, don't you?"

"Sorry, I'm just here to serve drinks," I said coolly, refusing to back down. "Not to talk."

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Interesting. So, you think you're too good to speak to me, huh?"

"Just trying to do my job," I replied, injecting as much fake politeness into my tone as I could muster. "Now, if you'll excuse me..."

Before I could turn away again, I heard another sharp voice from across Rafe's table. 

"Hey, new girl!"

I winced at the voice, pasting a smile on my face as a woman in a wide-brimmed hat waved me over impatiently. "Yes?"

"Get us another round of margaritas. On the double. Do it fast."

I nodded stiffly and headed back to the bar, biting back the urge to snap at her. The rich people in this town were worse than I remembered. But as I handed off the drink order to the bartender, I felt the hair on the back of my neck prickle.