Temptation [h.s.] ✔

Chapter 45.

After three hours of putting truffles into tiny little bags, labeling them, and tying them, I was more than ready to crash and not wake up for a very long time. Unfortunately, my mind had another idea—thousands of them, in fact.

I spent the whole night tossing and turning and only got a couple of hours of sleep when I got a cab home at four a.m. The sleep was broken and restless, but it was there at least.

I yawn and scratch Angus's head. "Oh, buddy. What am I going to do?" 

He looks at me and walks to his food bowl. For an animal that can catch a dumb amount of birds and mice, he's sure dependent on me for food. I get up and give him some biscuits, muttering about needing to go to the store before it closes.

My eyes fall to the clock on the wall. It's barely ten a.m., but my apartment is already cleaner than it's been in, well, a couple of years. After weighing it up, I grab my car keys and make the drive to the bar.

Or Crimson Lounge, as the sign outside now proclaims.

The 'L' reaches up until a cocktail glass comes out of the top of it, totally eclipsing the word 'crimson.' But it looks incredible.

I unlock the door, push it open, and step into a different bar. All the furniture is now in its rightful place, albeit still covered, but the bar is as good as ready to go. Apart from the bottles I have to install into the optics this week and the glasses to put out, it's done. The lights are all in place, curtain poles are up, and even the upstairs is done.

The place is empty, so I go upstairs, running my hand along the solid-wood banister.

Upstairs is different than downstairs. The red is darker, the white brighter, the leather seats smoother. The bar is smaller and curved whereas downstairs it's straight. The solid mahogany of the bar sets off the rest of the place, even the black floors.

I walk to the railings and lean over. Whoever designed this place did a great job. Better than great, actually. An amazing job.

I walk back downstairs and go the bar. A file is sitting on top of it. I missed it a moment ago, but I grab it now and read the note attached to the front.

Liv,

Here are all your applications for the bar. We filtered out the majority. Security is already hired, as is cleaning, so you just need to focus on bar staff, possible wait staff for busier nights, and an assistant manager. I'll do the assistant manager interviews with you, but all the others are yours.

A

I open the file, my interest piqued. Considering they've already taken a bunch and said no, I'm assuming I'm getting the best of the bunch here. I better be, at least.

Although, I could sure use the distraction of a bunch of crap applicants. 

I flick through each application, setting some aside whenever I read some good ones. Aaron—or rather his assistant—have sectioned off the applications, so it's easy for me to do. There are plenty for cocktail shakers, and I'm definitely going to need proof of those skills before they're hired.

That and I love watching them do those fancy-ass moves.

I set my number-one applicants to the front of the file and head back toward the storeroom. If the sign is up, chances are all the promotional items and other things are here too.

I'm right—there are boxes upon boxes in the room. I blink at them a few times before I unstack them. I look around for something to tear them open with, and some smart cookie has obviously thought of this because there's a penknife on a shelf.