Word around The Heights was that people seemed to think I was intimidating, particularly those who worked under me. Aside from Freddie, AKA ”Oak”—who, let’s face it, didn’t have to fear anyone because of his size—people seemed to be almost scared of me. But not Gia. Gia had no fucks left to give, and that was just about the most refreshing thing I’d experienced all year. Maybe ever.
During a slow spot in the evening, I’d had her write down all of her personal information for payroll purposes and—what do you know—turns out she lives in one of my properties that was rented out as a summer share. Since I had a management company that handled the tenants, she would have no
easy way of knowing I owned it. I made a mental note to spring that piece of news on her when the opportunity was right.
The connection didn’t surprise me. I owned a good chunk of real estate in this part of the Hamptons.
My estranged father and brother stayed in the City for the most part, managing the family business there. The Hamptons, though, was primarily my territory, at least from an operations standpoint.
While a casual beach bar by day, at night, The Heights turned into more of a club and restaurant with live music on the rooftop. And on this Friday night, it was packed both indoors and outside.
Once again, I found my eyes firmly planted on Gia. She was actually damn good at this job I’d given her. I’d downplayed the role of hostess earlier, but it wasn’t as easy as I’d made it out to be. She greeted every customer with a bright and enthusiastic smile, as if they were the very first ones to walk in the door. She also took the initiative to walk around to the tables and check on patrons during the breaks when there wasn’t anyone in line. Thankfully, she seemed oblivious to the fact that I was watching her.
By the time everyone cleared out, it was well past midnight. It was starting to rain, and the nearby ocean was getting choppy. I was outside smoking a cigarette when Gia walked right into my cloud of smoke.
“I didn’t realize you were still here,” she said.
Smoke billowed from my mouth as I said, “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“You didn’t. I just…figured you’d be gone a long time ago.”
“Nice job tonight.”
“Whoa.” She smiled wide. “Is that a compliment?”
“I call it like I see it. I’d tell you if you sucked, too. While you couldn’t bartend to save your life…you were a hell of a hostess.”
“With the most-ess.” She winked. “Well, I kind of have experience. I used to have a hostess job in the City.”
“You can definitely tell it wasn’t your first rodeo.” My gaze instinctively fell to her heaving breasts, which were straining against the black bra I could see through her sheer white T-shirt. I pried my eyes upward.
Our eyes locked, and suddenly she seemed eager to leave. “Well…have a good night. I’ll be here tomorrow on time.” When she started to walk past the lot of cars, I realized she didn’t have a vehicle; she was walking.
Dressed like that? At night?
I jumped in my Mustang and drove up beside her, rolling down my window. “Isn’t it kind of late for you to be walking alone?”
“It’s alright. I don’t mind walking.”
“It’s dark, and there aren’t many streetlights on the way to your house.”
“How do you know where I live?”
That’s right. She didn’t know I owned her damn house.
“You gave me your address earlier, remember? I know this town like the back of my hand.”
“I see.” She continued to walk as I drove slowly alongside her.
“I’ll drive you home.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. You’re my employee. You worked late on my watch. If something happens to you on your way home because of that, I’d feel partially responsible. And I don’t want that on my conscience.”
She stopped walking and put her hands on her hips. “Well, I don’t have a car at the moment. So, I’m planning to walk home most nights. If you can’t drive me every time, then why bother?”
I wasn’t going to waste time trying to rationalize with her. “Get the fuck in the car,” I demanded.
She didn’t argue as she opened the door and looked at me. “Thanks.”
The recognition of her scent and the way it was making me feel put me on edge. I couldn’t figure out why I was having this kind of reaction to a woman I’d just met. She seemed familiar, even though I knew we’d never crossed paths before today.
I’d fucked around with a lot of women, to the point where I thought I was immune to feeling like this.
But there was something different about Gia that I couldn’t put my finger on.
This was dangerous.
I needed another cigarette. I took one out and lit it.
“Do you think you could not smoke in here?” she said.
“No. I can’t not smoke.”
Insisting on smoking when she told me not to was definitely a dick move. I should have been more considerate…but with her in this car, I really needed it. I opened the window and made a conscious effort to blow the smoke out and away from her.
“How long have you owned The Heights?”
“My family built it a decade ago. I‘ve been in charge of it for a few years.”
“It’s a really nice establishment. I’d only been there once before tonight and had a bad experience. I hadn’t come back until today.”
My head whipped to the side. “What kind of bad experience?”
“Oh…it wasn’t the bar itself or anything.”
“What was it, then?”
“I met a guy there and it was…well, it didn’t end well. I guess I associate The Heights with that experience. I didn’t even want to come today at all when Riley begged me.”
The thought of someone she met at my business harming her made my blood boil. I slowed down the car and looked over at her. “Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
“What happened then?”
Her blatant response surprised me.
“I let him screw me, and he gave me the wrong number after.”
Not many things left me speechless. But hearing her say that definitely put me at a loss for words. It didn’t make sense how anyone could manage to get this chick in bed and then give her a wrong number.
Her honesty shocked me. How many women would admit that to their boss? Say anything you want to about Gia, but she was real. Maybe that’s what drew me to her. Because so much in my life was superficial and fake. This girl seemed like she had nothing to hide.
She covered her face. “God, why did I just tell you that? I vomit the truth sometimes.”
“Well, my mother used to say, ‘don’t apologize for your truths, only your lies’.” I glanced over at her.
“He was probably married. We get a lot of those city types in the bar, think they can come and fuck around in the Hamptons then go back to their wives in Manhattan like nothing ever happened.”
“You know…I think you’re right. He was definitely not who he said he was.”
I couldn’t control the urge to scold her. “You need to be careful. You shouldn’t be going home with men you meet in bars.”
“I’m not a slut. I hadn’t slept with anyone in months before that. I was lonely, in the mood, and figured why not. This guy…he seemed really put together, well-dressed, articulate. It’s not like he promised me marriage, but we spent all night talking before I took him back to my place. He even made plans with me for the following weekend. I didn’t think he’d give me the wrong phone number.
He was charming…had me fooled. If I could take it back, I absolutely would.”
I pulled up to her house—my house—a sprawling five-bedroom, shingle-style beach home that now served as a party pad for a bunch of city dwellers looking to escape Manhattan for the summer.