“Will you bring us some ice cubes? And some extra glasses for her friends?”
The waitress smiled and brushed down her black shirt. “Anything else?”
“No, that’ll be all for now.”
“Right away, sir.”
Sir? Violet chuckled to herself. Sure, he was likely going to leave the waitress a great tip, but referring to him as sir? Seemed a little excessive. There was no way he was so prominent that he deserved to be recognized in such a way.
“What do you do for work?”
He brought his blue eyes to her as a sly smile formed on his lips. “Interested in knowing what I do for work but not my name? Seems a little contradictory.”
She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, but she could feel her cheeks burning red. “No, it’s not that. It’s just that we came here with the owner’s son and not even he gets treated that well.”
“Do you mean that guy with your friend?”
Violet nodded and took another sip of rum.
“That’s not the owner’s son. He’s actually the club manager’s son. Two very different roles, and he’s a bit of a shithead.”
“Oh, my God,” Violet said, her eyes widening. “Can you not tell my friend? She’d get really upset with Nico if she found out that he was lying to her. Honestly, you don’t want to see her upset. It gets bad.”
“Fine. And as for my work,” he paused, and put his arm up on the booth, nearly bringing it just above her shoulders, “I’ll keep that a secret.”
She lifted her glass and clinked it against his. “Sounds good to me. I don’t mind telling you what I do. I paint, mostly for a publisher. I illustrate picture books and I also take commissions. You know, if you need a self portrait in the future.”
He cocked his head to the side. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Good,” she said, smiling. “I like surprising people with my job. What does a painter even look like? We’re certainly not all crazy hippies or recluses who cut off our ears.”
“I expected that you would work in marketing or something. But a painter? That’s actually way more interesting.”
She glanced up at the sound of the door opening. The music entered the room like an unwelcome guest, causing Violet to flinch. Donovan and Nico were already drunk as they stumbled into the room laughing.
“Hi there. I’m Donovan,” she said, waving to him. “This is Nico.”
Nico narrowed his eyes. “We’ve met before. I think I know you.”
“Yes,” he replied, swirling the rum in his glass. “We have. Nice to meet you, Donovan. I have glasses coming up shortly and some ice.”
“Actually, I’m not sure we’re going to stay.”
Violet turned to Donovan. “What do you mean?”
Donovan sighed. “I want to go for a walk. It’s a really nice night and I want to see the ocean. It’s not like we’re going to be on this island much longer. We literally leave here tomorrow night.”
“You mean the sea?” Violet asked, and took another sip from her glass. “I think it’s a good idea, I guess.”
“You obviously have to come with us.”
There it was. She should’ve expected it to happen again, as it turned into another night of doing whatever Donovan felt like. Violet knew that if she denied Donovan’s request that she’d hear about it later, once they returned to their private suite. She turned to the handsome stranger next to her. “I think we’re leaving.”
“I can see that,” he said, and turned to the waitress, who had just managed to open the door with a different tray in her hand. “Bring that back downstairs and settle things up here.”
Violet placed down her glass. “What are you doing?”
“Am I not joining you?” he asked, lowering his voice so that only she could hear him. “Or would you rather walk with them alone?”
It was the last thing she expected. Not only had he saved her from Pierre, he was willing to go for a walk in the middle of the night to make it so that she wouldn’t be the third wheel in their entourage. She couldn’t help but wonder why he’d go so far out of his way for someone whose name he didn’t even know.
“Are you sure?”
He shrugged and watched as the waitress grabbed the tray off the table. “Yeah. I had plans with someone earlier tonight, but they cancelled on me. I’d hate for one of my nights in Greece not to be eventful.”
“As if going for a walk is that exciting.”
“Going for a walk with a woman who won’t tell me her name is pretty damn eventful, if you ask me,” he said, and laughed lightly. “If you want to take a walk with your friend alone, that’s fine. I can always find other things to entertain me.”
The way he said it made Violet feel uneasy. He obviously had money - that wasn’t even a question in her mind any longer. What could money buy on an island in the Aegean Sea?
“Like what?”
“Go on my yacht. Invite some people that I know in the area.”
Yacht? She stared at him in disbelief. He was so nonchalant about his wealth. No one just dropped the word yacht so casually unless they were like Donovan and grew up with immeasurable wealth. Usually people who earned that kind of money flaunted it. That was typical of Americans back in California. Donovan often called them clout chasers, and they were always looking for the next thing to spend their money on. They even made YouTube videos about the newest name brand things they’d purchased.
“Your yacht? You talk about it like everyone has a yacht.”
The word caught Donovan’s attention, who stopped mid-conversation with Nico. “My parents have a yacht. We usually take it around the coast.”
“My parents did the same growing up,” he told her, chugging down the last of his rum and wincing. “They don’t anymore, though. I’ve taken over all of the yachts and boats since they were just collecting dust.”
“Does that include the one in Greece?” Violet asked him, still hanging on the words yachts and boats, which were plural. Even just owning one yacht was enough. Just how wealthy was he?
“Yeah, there’s a couple all over the place.”
Even Donovan seemed surprised by his blatant acceptance of wealth. Violet smiled slightly, finding the entire situation hilarious. Here was an absolutely gorgeous guy who was not only thoughtful, but also extremely casual with his money. It was the opposite of most of the people in Malibu. She wished desperately she’d met him back home, rather than in Greece. Even if meeting in Mykonos was far more romantic. A club setting? Not so much.
She tried to imagine meeting him on the beach. Maybe he would see her from his yacht and want to jump off and swim over, introducing himself while she sunbathed. The thought made her stomach flutter.
“Would you like the bill to be sent to you, sir?”
Everyone stopped and turned to the waitress, who had finished placing both trays beneath the other and placing the glasses along their surfaces. She was balancing everything on one arm while waiting for his reply.
“Yes, that’s fine. Do you have it with you?”
She nodded and pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket with her free hand. She pulled it out alongside a pen and handed it to him. The silence of the small room was palpable, with only the music blaring outside a reminder of where they were.