"I'll be fine," I told Devyn, all but shoving her out my front door.

"But –"

"Leave!" I yelled, causing Dexter to growl.

She held her hands up. "I'm going, I'm going. We work together tomorrow night by the way," she said before flouncing out of the apartment.

Sighing, I sagged against the door once it was shut. Devyn had insisted that we walk around more after lunch. So we had, but that left me with only an hour to try and get ready for work and make it there in time. It wasn't possible. Shifting myself into high gear, I ran into my bedroom and changed into my uniform. Leaving my hair in its bun, I moved into the bathroom and swiped some mascara over my lashes and lined my eyes. Glancing in the mirror, I decided it would have to do.

Purse in hand, I hollered a goodbye to Dexter and locked my door before barreling towards the door to the street. Once I hit the pavement I slowed down a little because running in heels on concrete was never the best idea for me. Hastening along at a brisk pace, I made my way through the streets in the dimming light.

Damn Devyn and her constantly making me lose track of time. I had never been late for any other reason besides Dexter. Since I started taking him with me around a year prior there hadn't been a single time that I was late. How was I supposed to explain to Dante that our best friend decided to keep me out all day? He'd never believe me. He would assume I had had a run in with the gang and probably hire a security team for me.

The sound of an engine behind me caught my attention. Stopping, I waited for the familiar SUV to roll to a stop beside me. For the first time I was elated to see it. "Lucas, you couldn't possibly have better timing!" I exclaimed as the heavily tinted window began to roll down when I reached the car.

Forest green eyes met mine once the window was out of the way. My mouth fell open and the slightest of smiles tilted Vincent's lips. "Happy to see me, princess?" he asked.

"I thought you were Lucas."

"Obviously."

"What're you doing here?"

"I'm on my way to your work," he said before his eyes ran over my clothes. "Looks like you are too."

Glancing behind him and farther back in the car, I realized that it was empty. "You're alone?" I questioned.

"Business meeting, just me they need to talk to."

"Not in my work," I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Nothing too bad," he replied, that ghost smile flashing across his face again. "C'mon, get in."

"I'll walk," I blurted, taking a step back from the SUV. I would take being late for work over being alone in a car with Vincent any day.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "We're going to the same place, princess. I'm just trying to save you a long ass walk."

Biting my lip, I glanced down the street. At this time of day, there was no one out on the streets. Everyone was already where they wanted to be. "I –"

"Juliette," he snapped, cutting me off before I could even offer up an excuse. "Get in the damn car or I will get out and force you in."

And that same dark authority that always coated his words was what made me round the car and climb into the passenger's seat. Rolling his eyes, Vincent shifted the car into drive and maneuvered back out onto the road. Soft music that I couldn't really discern floated through the car. It sounded like a piano. Before I could ask him what it was, he spoke. "You're quite stubborn, you know that?" he asked, irritation tingeing his voice.

"No, I hadn't noticed," I replied, mirroring his tone.

"Just like that," he muttered, driving through the streets with such ease I suspected he had them memorized.

"Not used to being challenged?" I mocked.

He went silent. The gears in my mind started to go into overdrive. Was that the wrong thing to say? Several minutes passed and he still hadn't said anything. Biting my lip, I watched as the worn down buildings of my neighborhood were swapped out for the immaculate buildings of downtown. "Not at all," he finally murmured just when my internal freak out was about to reach its peak. Nodding, I decided to keep my mouth shut. Testing my limits with him was not high on my list of things to accomplish.

The rest of the ride was silent. When he reached the club, he pulled around to the back and parked in the spot closest to the back door. Unbuckling my seatbelt – that I didn't even remember buckling – I muttered a hasty thank you and escaped from the car. Hoisting my bag up onto my shoulder, I ignored that sound of his door shutting. However, the hand on my arm a few seconds later couldn't be ignored. Vincent eased me to a stop before turning me around to face him. "What?" I rasped, the tiniest amount of fear seizing my heart.

"This has been bothering me the whole ride," he muttered. Furrowing my brow, I blinked up at him. He seemed to hesitate before raising a hand to my face. Before I even knew what was happening, I flinched. He froze. "I think that's the first sign of fear I've seen from you."

"I don't trust you," I retorted, finding the side of me that tended to get me into trouble.

"And you shouldn't, but you can believe me when I say I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to know who already has," he said, voice low as his long fingers grasped my chin. He tilted my face up to his before brushing his fingertips beneath my eye.

It'll probably bruise a little, Brandon's words from earlier floated through my mind.

Shit.

"It was Brandon," I told him, though I wasn't really sure of what I was saying. How was I supposed to work with what looked like a black eye?

"Brandon hit you?"

The deadly calm in his voice caused me to whip my head up to look at him. His face was pinched tight and his forest green eyes were blazing. His hand that was still hovering by my cheek fell to his side before clenching into a fist.

Double shit.

"No!" I exclaimed. "No, it was an accident." I then proceeded to recount the events of earlier in the day when Devyn and I had run from Brandon and Lucas. "It was an accident," I repeated, trying to backtrack over my words. I didn't even want to know what Vincent would have done to Brandon if he thought he intentionally hurt me,

But then again why would he care?

Visibly relaxing, he ran a hand through his already tousled hair. "I don't condone violence against women or children," he said.

"Well I'm fine, I can't believe I didn't notice it bruised."

"It's barely noticeable, princess. I wouldn't worry about it, especially not with how poorly lit the club is."

"Would you quit with the princess crap, Vinnie?" I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest and narrowing my eyes at him.

His ghost smile tugged at his lips. "There she is," he murmured.

"Juliette!" a familiar voice that made me flinch called.

"Coming, Dante!" I hollered back, not daring to turn around and see the scathing look my boss was giving me.

"Do you need a ride home too?" Vincent asked me.

"I can walk."

"So I'll be waiting for you here at close."

"Vincent," I said, my voice strained when I met his eyes. "You are the only person I should worry about in this city. You're the one threatening my life."

"Don't try and argue with me, princess. I'll bind and gag you if I have to."

Despite my best attempts at trying to fight it back, a blush blossomed across my cheeks. "Fine, Vinnie. You can take me home."

Rolling his eyes, he turned me around so that I could see the pinched look on Dante's face. He looked like he had eaten something sour. "I'll be here," he breathed in my ear, causing the increasingly familiar shiver to run down my spine.

Shaking my head, I made my way towards my boss. With each step I took toward him, a little more of the tension in his face fell away. When I was within arm's length, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into a bone crushing hug. "Could you try not to give me a heart attack?" he grumbled in my ear.

"I'm fine," I muttered.

"Get your ass in there and start working before you're late," he said, releasing me.

Trying incredibly hard not to roll my eyes at him, I pulled away and nodded. When I turned to the door leading to the kitchen of the bar, I nearly groaned. It was as if Vincent was purposely trying to give Dante a coronary. He was waiting for me by the door, holding it for me. "What're you doing?" I hissed as I brushed past him.

"Going inside," he replied.

"You're not allowed back here," I told him, gritting my teeth together as I slammed my purse down and pulled up my time clock on the one computer we had in the back.

That ghost of a smile passed over his face. "Oh well," he said. And with that he breezed through the door and out into the club.

I was cursing him profusely under my breath when Anthony came into the kitchen. "Who was that?" he asked, eyeing the door Vincent had just vanished through.

"Please don't ask," I told him, shoving my purse to the ground in hopes to vent a little of my frustration. Thankfully, there was nothing breakable in it.

He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender as he caught me up on what had been happening throughout the past few hours. In the grand scheme of things, it was nothing outside of the usual. However, I knew how much Anthony hated being in the bar on his own until I got there, so I let him ramble on and on. "And then, she threw the olive in my face!"

"Well she is a regular, Tony. You should know she hates olives."

"She's one of your regulars," he accused as we emerged back out into the club.

"So sorry," I teased, rolling my eyes as I took up my position at one end of the bar. Anthony stuck his tongue out at me before going around and filling all the orders that had come in while he had been in the back with me.

As I began to work I couldn't stop my eyes from searching for Vincent. It wasn't my fault. How was I supposed to not worry about the fact that he was conducting business – more likely than not illegal business – in my place of work? As stupid as it sounds, I felt responsible for Vincent as long as he was here – as long as any of them were here. Not as if I could actually make any of them listen to a damn word I said, but still. It didn't take too long to find him. He was in the same booth he had occupied the night before.

The man that sat with him looked like straight up bad news. Tattoos outnumbering Vincent's and mine combined spiraled up his throat and onto his face. His black hair was slicked back to the point of looking greasy. He also had a very weasel-like face. In short, he didn't look like a very trustworthy person.

What did I expect though?

As if sensing my gaze, Vincent's eyes shifted to scan the bar until they found mine. He arched an eyebrow at me, just barely, only enough to let me know I'd been caught. Scowling, I glared at him for a minute before his lips twitched and he returned his attention to Weasel Face.

"Jules?" Anthony asked, right next to my ear.

"Shit," I gasped out, dropping the glass I had been drying. It shattered into a million pieces beneath me. "Double shit," I muttered. Of course it had to fall onto the cement floor beside the rubber mat.

"Oops."

I turned my glare on the bartender behind me. "I'm going to kill you," I threatened half-heartedly, heading towards the kitchen to grab the broom and dustpan.

Anthony held his hands out for it when I returned. "It was my fault, I got it."

"Thanks, Tony," I said with a smile.

"Stop calling me that," he grumbled as he swept up the bits of glass.

"Never."

He sighed as I headed to his end of the bar to pick up some of his orders while he was preoccupied. Some of the women looked disappointed that he was busy, and they were quite nasty with me because of it. So, when I returned to my side of the bar when Anthony was finished, I was not in the best of moods. "Bad day?" Chris asked when he plopped down as he did every night.

Having one of my own regulars made me smile. Making his whiskey dry, I handed Chris the glass. "You have no idea," I replied, slumping against the counter in front of him.

He returned my grin as he sipped his drink before loosening his tie. "I feel your pain."

"I still don't understand why you come in here," I told him as I scooted down a few seats to take another order.

"How many times am I going to have to tell you I like the company?" he replied, rolling his eyes at me.

"I guess until it registers."

"Am I going to have to flat out ask you to go out with me before you take the hint, Jules?" he questioned, taking me by surprise.

"What?" I asked, blinking at him.

His smile lit up his face as he chuckled. "You really think I've been coming in here, specifically to you, for no reason the past year?"

"Err. . ." I trailed off. I was a fish out of water here. "Well yes."

"Well, now you know."

"Chris, look –"

"Hey there, princess," a new voice interjected.

Well, not really new, but new enough to make me actually relieved to talk to Vincent. "Yes, Vinnie?" I replied, stepping down the bar to position myself in front of him instead of Chris.

His eyes narrowed the smallest fraction of an inch. "Can I get two glasses of Johnnie Walker Blue on the rocks?"

"You're asking?" I teased with arched eyebrows. The retort that I could tell was just on the tip of his tongue was lost as I turned my back on him to make the drinks he asked for. "Here you go," I said, my voice filled with faux exuberance when I slid the glasses in front of him.

"Thank you," he said through a plastered on smile. He slid two hundreds my way and I didn't have time to call him back before he was gone. Why did he insist on way over-tipping me? Seething, I changed out the money and put the sixty dollars extra directly into my pocket. If he was true to is word and took me home that night, I would find a way to leave it in the car when I got out.

"You know him?" Chris asked, his gaze following Vincent back to his corner booth with Weasel Face.

"A lot of the time I wish I didn't," I told him, shaking my head before I started to wipe down the bar. Basically I was just looking for a reason not to get too close to Chris for fear he would bring the previous conversation back up.

He shrugged and slid a fifty my way. "As always, it was a pleasure, Jules." He tipped an imaginary hat at me. "I'll see you tomorrow."

With that he left. Sighing, I took the bill he had given me and deposited it into the register, sticking the rest in the tip jar. That had been unexpected, but I was hoping it would never be mentioned again. I adored Chris as a regular, but that was all he would ever be to me. Just someone who came into the bar and was easy to talk to. Plus, it wasn't like I could have any kind of relationship at that moment in time. How was I supposed to explain the gang members that followed me around daily?

Something told me that piece of information would not sit well with any man.

The rest of the night passed quickly. Weasel Face only stayed with Vincent for about another hour after the drinks – yes, I kept track. Then, throughout the night I could feel a particular set of eyes on me, but I studiously ignored him. I had a plan. I was going to sneak out to the car right before close, slip the money under his windshield wiper – if someone got it before him, not my problem – and return to work with no one the wiser. Hopefully, I could figure out a way to walk home as well.

So, as people began to filter out of the bar, I slipped into the kitchen. "I'll be right back to help clean up!" I called to Dante as I darted out the back door.

The lot was empty save for the black SUV that I knew belonged to Vincent. Glancing around, I pulled the three twenties out of my pocket and made my way to the driver's side. Gently picking up the windshield wiper, I stuck the bills underneath it and made sure they wouldn't go anywhere unless they were purposely removed. Satisfied with my handiwork, I smiled and turned to head back into the bar.

And ran smack into somebody's chest.

"What do you think you're doing?" Vincent asked, his voice not sounding amused in the slightest.

I rubbed my throbbing nose. "Nothing," I attempted, batting my eyelashes at him.

The effort was lost. "What did you just stick under my wiper blade?"

"Nothing."

He grunted in response and reached around me. Leaning back so that he didn't touch me, I righted myself when he pulled back. "So this is nothing?" he questioned, holding the twenties up for my inspection.

"That's exactly what that is."

"Stop playing dumb, princess."

Sighing, I shrugged. "Stop over-tipping me."

He shook his head before pocketing the money. "Fine. Now I suggest you go finish up your shift so I can take you home."

"Stop trying to boss me around," I grumbled, shouldering my way past him.

He didn't make another comment as I slipped back into the kitchen. Muttering curses under my breath the whole time, I returned to my place behind the bar and began to help Anthony wipe it down. Before too long, I was counting the money out as I did every night. However, my brain was still distracted by how I was going to dodge the car ride. I would much rather walk than be stuck in the car with Vincent again. He had pushed me to my limits of dealing with him for the night.

"So how'd we do?" Anthony asked, bringing me back to the task at hand.

"Four eighty-eight even," I told him, sliding his half over to him.

"Shots?" he asked, pocketing the money.

"Not tonight," I told him. "I've got a massive headache. I just want to go home."

"You okay, Jules?" he asked, coming over to place his hands on my shoulders. "You've been wound up all night."