The Skin Thief

Chapter 23

Mr Salt walks to his table. Steve turns around to me slowly, his brown eyes wide and his face flushed. He opens and closes his mouth a few times then shakes his head.

"Are you mad?" he whisper shouts at me.

"There are people waiting," I say calmly and gesture to the bar. Steve sighs and rubs his temple.

"We're going to have a serious chat about this after service," he warns.

"Steve," I say, looking into his eyes. "I will be fine. I can deal with men like him. I have been all my life."

"You scare me," Steve says and turns around, shaking his head. By the time he has reached the customers, the charming smile is back on his face and his voice is cheery. I pick up one of the fancy-shaped glass water jugs and take in a deep breath. Just before I leave the bar, I square my shoulders and prepare myself.

Mother's voice ring's loudly in my mind.

"There is a group of men I like to call Fat Politicians. These will be the easiest targets you will ever have to seduce. Most of the time, you don't even have to let them touch you. You see, men who fall into the Fat Politician category like to think they are powerful. So, when someone comes along, someone beautiful, someone 'pure', someone more intelligent who doesn't cower or bend to their power, they can't resist the challenge. They want to break you. They want to fuck you. They crave you and the more you work them, the more they'll do anything to have even a small part of you. Play it right, and they'll give you their world just for you to give them a slight pat on the shoulder."

I gulp back any doubts and push forward. I have seen first-hand the way mother bent politicians to her will. Sometimes, it only took a few words and they'd be giving into her every demand. I remember seeing the glee on her face every time she got back from one of those meetings.

Well, now it's my turn to play.

I briefly pass a mirror on my way to the VIP section. I catch a glimpse of my reflection. The smile on my face is calm, natural, and effortless. My blue eyes look bright and sparkling beneath the subtle bronze eye makeup. The pink shimmer on my lips makes them look full and plump.

"This is who I was talking about," Mr Salt says as I approach the table.

"Mr Salt," I say, smiling widely. "Water?"

"Yes please," he grins. I effortlessly pour the water into the crystal water glass.

"And you sir?" I ask his guest.

"Yes," he replies, and I repeat the action. I can feel Mr Salt's eyes on me, but I ignore it. Instead, I focus on the guest. I reckon he is in his mid-forties. A slender man, his features are freakily sharp and his glare cold.

"Can I get you anything else to drink?" I ask and pull out a little tablet to take the orders.

"Tell me, what wines do you have?" Mr Salt asks, his eyes twinkling with arrogance.

The other man sighs. "Leaver her alone, Gareth. She is clearly new. I'll just have the house red please."

"She's a smart girl, Owen. I'm sure she knows how to do her job," he replies, not looking away from me.

"Of course," I reply. "Do you know what you are eating tonight? That way I can point you to the wines that will best suit your dinner?"

"Oh, so you're a sommelier now too, huh?" he asks. I laugh, the sound coming out genuine and cheerful.

"You think too highly of me," I reply and shake my head. "I only know the basics."

"Tell me then, Ivy, what wine should I have if I am having fish?" he asks, raising a very long-haired grey eyebrow.