office door. “Just wanted to let you know the last party is getting ready to leave,” he said.
“Thanks. I’ll be out to close out the till in a bit.”
“Okay.” Except instead of leaving, his friend wavered in the doorway. “Is it true?” he asked. “Did you really let your new puppy go?”
“Stop calling her that,” Max said, bristling. Arianna wasn’t some stray off the streets. “And who told you I let her go?”
“The pup—lady—herself. When Darlene brought over a steak, she told me it was her last meal at the Fox Club.”
“Oh.” Apparently, he’d made his point after all. Now his conscience really stung. “I suppose it is.”
“It’s for the best, you know.”
“I know.” Didn’t mean he had to be happy about it, though.
Stepping all the way inside the office, the bartender pushed aside the brass lamp and took its place on the edge of Max’s desk. “Look, man, no one appreciates what you were trying to do more than me, but things don’t always work out, you know? If you still want to help her, write the chick a check. Unless...”
His voice drifting off, Darius’s attention shifted to the desk’s surface and an invisible spot that he suddenly needed to scratch at with his fingernail.
Max narrowed his eyes. “Unless what?”
“Unless, it ain’t just about helping a girl out. You said yourself she was hot.”
“I didn’t say she was hot, I said she’d look good in the uniform...and I was right.” Over on the side of the desk, Darius let out a snort. One that said Max was splitting hairs, and they both knew it.
Truth? Yeah, he was attracted to the woman. She was different from other women who had crossed his path, and not because her appearance screamed money—although that did make her stand out. It was her personality that truly set her apart. She had the oddest combination of haughtiness and innocence about her. One moment she was icy and entitled, the next she looked vulnerable and scared. Most women, he could read from the get-go. They were either women from his old life, looking to rise up from their lousy circumstances, or they were women from his current world looking to hook a successful businessman. In either case, their faces were open books.
Not Arianna’s, though. As much as he could read her, there was a layer he couldn’t get to. It intrigued him.
Excited him, too. The way she wore that uniform, like it was a real Dior. He’d have to be a dead man not to appreciate that fact, and even death wasn’t a guarantee that he wouldn’t, seeing as how every swish of her skirt and sway of her hips sent awareness shooting below his belt.
A smile played on his lips. “Oh, brother,” Darius said. “Just admit you want her already, will you?”
Max refused to respond. Spinning in his chair, he turned and looked out his office window. The view wasn’t much, an alley and the emergency exit for the building on the next lot, but he’d certainly had worse. Behind him, the dining room was quiet except for the sounds of chairs being put on the tables. In between scrapes and rattles, he heard the soft notes of a piano over the din. Some song he’d never heard before. Reminded him of a Christmas carol, but not quite.
“When did you switch on the radio?” he asked. Normally, he wasn’t big on plain piano music, but this was nice.
“I didn’t,” Darius replied. “That’s the piano on stage.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Unless the speaker over your door is blown.”
Max frowned. “Shirley?” Last he heard, his former piano player was behind bars. “You think she got out?”
“Doubt it. Besides, she was never that good.”
Rising, Max made his way to the office door, with Darius not far behind. Together the two of them stepped into the main dining room. “Well, what do you know...?” Max said, giving a low whistle.
Arianna sat the piano, head bent over the keyboard, playing with the agility of a trained expert.
ONCE SHE FINISHED her dinner, Arianna didn’t know what to do with herself. Most of the patrons were gone, and the staff was busy getting ready to close. From the looks they gave her, it was clear they did not want her assistance.
She couldn’t sit there and do nothing. Her nerves wouldn’t let her. In a little while Max would emerge from his office to walk her home, ending her career at the Fox Club. She would be back to where she started three days ago: looking for a way to postpone her return home. Only this time, she doubted there would be another handsome white knight waiting to ride to the rescue.
Looking around, her attention stopped at the piano on the stage. She’d noticed it her first day here, but had yet to take a close look. Her spirits picked up a little. Surely no one would mind if she looked now. Reclaiming her heels, having kicked them off while eating, she slipped them on and headed over.
For as long as she could remember, the piano had been a close friend. When she was a little girl, she would sit on the bench next to her mother and accompany her by plunking out random notes. Later, the discipline of practice helped her survive the pain of losing her mama. And again when she mourned her sister-in-law’s death.
Of course her instructors would say those were the only times she appreciated discipline since she spent most of her childhood ditching formal practice in favor of playing lighter, more enjoyable pieces.
She hadn’t played much when she was dating Manolo; he’d been more interested in being seen than in listening to her play. The club’s baby grand might not have as sophisticated a soundboard as the palace piano, but it was in excellent condition, and more importantly, she thought as she smiled and pressed middle C, it was in tune. Taking a seat on its bench felt a little bit like greeting a long lost friend.
Stretching her fingers, she played a scale, followed by an arpeggio. Because she was rusty, her fingers fumbled, and for a moment, it was like when she tried rolling tableware. Quickly, though, she loosened up, and the notes began to flow with ease. Confidence restored, she started playing one of the handful of songs she knew from memory: “In the Bleak Midwinter.” The quiet, melancholy song seemed fitting, given her circumstances.
When she finished, she realized everyone in the club was watching her. Including Max, who stood near the front of the stage.
“Bravo,” he said, clapping. “That was amazing.”
Arianna blushed as satisfaction swept her from head to toe. Her entire life, people had showered her with compliments regarding her playing, and she’d basked in them all, but none of the accolades had affected her as much as seeing the admiration on Max’s face was. Knowing she had his approval left a thrill that started at the base of her spine and spread outward, to the ends of her fingers.
He hopped onto the stage to join her. “You’ve been keeping secrets. Why didn’t you tell me you could play the piano?”
“I
