WIP (not quite) Wednesday: Duty #AndinoanddHaven #ComingSoon

Hey, all!

*waves*

No, I did not forget about posting this today  because I promised yesterday, and yes, it's not quite Wednesday, so hence the title of the post.

We get a peek at Haven today.

A lot are curious about what kind of woman she is - let me say, ball breaker, take no shit, and exactly what Andino needs.

Do enjoy.

***

Haven just turned away from the patron she was serving to tell Max to chill out for a minute while she finished at the other side of the bar, but a familiar voice calling to her from down the way silenced her instantly. And also made her blood heat up, not to mention the way her pussy clenched at the same goddamn time.
“I got it—no worries, bella.”
That voice.
That Italian.
That man.
She found him already behind her bar, reaching for bottles like he knew exactly what he was doing, and not the least bit uncomfortable by all the people, never mind the fact he was wearing a three-thousand dollar suit and serving drinks in a strip club. Just standing there like he was, doing what he was doing, seemed like a giant contradiction. Then again, everything about him kind of felt like that at one point or another.
His grin deepened.
His green gaze darkened.
She smiled at the sight of him. “Andino—you mix drinks?”
He shrugged. “My father taught me. He owned a bunch of clubs, although he sold most of them about a decade ago when he stopped being so involved in the business, and didn’t want his name attached to any that might fail or whatever. Anyway, that’s what I used to do with him on the weekends when he had to work in the club.”
“Ah.”
“You looked like you could use a hand,” he added.
Haven hesitated on pouring the shot of vodka into the shaker. Just how long had he been in the club, and watching her from afar? She didn’t have time to think on it for very long—the chick waiting for her drink was huffing and side-eyeing Haven like she thought the liquor was never going to come.
“Thanks, Andino,” she said.
He gave her a nod. “Don’t mention it, my girl.”
My girl.
Haven didn’t miss that. She was just too fucking busy to respond. It was another two customers, and the line up of frat boys back for another round of shots, plus a server with ten drink orders before Haven passed Andino by again, and got a chance to speak to him again.
He’d taken off his suit jacket, and tossed it somewhere else. His blood-red vest and tie was a bright contrast against the black silk shirt he had rolled up to the elbows. She was caught for a minute staring at those arms of his—muscular, strong, and defined. Every large vein that bulged with his muscles with each movement he made.
He was something else.
Too good looking.
A little too arrogant.
Every woman’s wet dream when he tossed on a suit, that smirk, and very little effort elsewhere.
Mix all of that together, and it made for one hell of a dangerous combination in a man. And that was before Haven even got into his tall, dark, and mysterious appeal. That was a whole different monster when it came to Andino Marcello.
He knew it, too.
Probably.
“Something on your mind?” Andino asked.
Haven’s gaze darted up from where she’d been staring at his arms to find Andino was smirking at her. Asshole. Except … she kind of liked it. Maybe something was wrong with her. Because what kind of normal woman lusted after a man she didn’t know, but who still managed to show time and time again that he was probably bad news, and a bit of a fucking flight risk considering how often he took off?
It had to be her—she was the broken one.
Yeah, that sounded right.
Maybe.
“Well?” he asked.
Haven reached for the bottle of cotton candy flavored liquor behind Andino to make the sweet drink that would make someone’s teeth ache, and asked, “Do you do this often to other women you’re fucking?”
He missed his pour into the shaker of whatever drink he was mixing, but recovered quickly enough. Not that she missed the look he shot her—she didn’t. He didn’t even offer an apology to the man waiting for his drink, but at that point, Haven didn’t care.
She just wanted an answer to her question.
Not a rebuttal.
Not a denial.
Not a deflection.
No, a real and honest answer.
Was she asking for too much?

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