A Treacherous King- Dark Mafia Romance

one

Maeve

I absentmindedly stir my drink, resting my head on the palm of my hand. I am sitting at a bar on third street, waiting for my date who is currently fifteen minutes late. I turn in my seat glancing back at the door. The busy Chicago street looks empty for a Thursday night.

I'm starting to grow increasingly irritated. Where the fuck is this guy? I knew I should have just stayed at home.

I tap my phone screen to check the time again. He was now twenty minutes late. I am most definitely being stood up. The guy I was supposed to be meeting was a blind date, set up by one of my coworkers, Nora.

Nora was a self proclaimed matchmaker who unbeknownst to me, had set me up on a blind date with a guy from her gym named Ian. All I knew about Ian was he was tall, had blonde hair, and blue eyes and according to Nora, "looked really impressive in gym shorts."

I had a few forced conversations with Nora in the break room after she cornered me. I had accidentally let it slip that I was single and she had taken it upon herself to set me up on a date. The thing was, I didn't really date. Men in this city were all the same to me. Uptight, douchey assholes who throw one woman out when a newer, shinier one, comes along. So I hadn't been too pleased with Nora's brown-nosing, but also didn't want to upset her. So here I am being a testament to my own theory that men are shallow creatures.

I release a big sigh. Punching my phone screen again. I would give him another five minutes, but by then if he didn't show, it would be his loss. I wave the bartender over and order another gin and tonic. The bartender, a big burly guy, pushes the glass in front of me. I take a tentative sip, but think fuck it, and pluck the straw from the glass. I drink right from the rim, downing the burning liquid.

"I'll have what she's having." A deep, husky accented voice sounds beside me. Startled, I whip my head around to find that the barstool beside me is now occupied and it's definitely not Ian.

The guy stares straight forward, so I only get the pleasure of his side profile. A defined nose and jaw, his hair a deep shade of brown, cut shorter on the sides but longer on top. He's wearing a well tailored suit that most likely cost more than my rent.

He stirs the gin and tonic around with the straw and then like me, takes the straw out and drinks right from the rim of the glass. His throat flexes as he swallows the liquid, and I find myself mesmerized by the gesture. He must note my staring and finally meets my gaze. His eyes are gray, like a sky full of dark clouds, so full, just waiting for the bottom to fall out. I can't seem to function, only stare.

"Long day?" He asks, tearing his gaze from mine. I suddenly regain the ability to breathe and study my empty glass intently. I squeeze my eyes shut scorning myself for being so blatantly obvious with my ogling.

"I guess you could say that." I breathe. The guy looks so out of place. He looks like he should be on the cover of GQ, not in a hole in the wall bar like this.

"Waiting for someone?" He says. I don't dare look back over at him, afraid that if I do I won't have the nerve to look away.

"Uh, no." I lie, my cheeks reddening. I don't know why I feel like I should save face to him, but I feel stupid admitting that I was being stood up.

"Well in that case, let me buy you another drink." He says, lifting his finger in the air, signaling the bartender.

"No it's okay. I've had plenty." I quickly say. He ignores my refusal and orders me another gin and tonic and himself a whiskey.

"I insist. I need to hear about this bad day you've had." He says, a slight smile playing upon his features. It seems pleasant enough so I relax a fraction.