ARROGANT BRIT (A BRITISH BAD BOY ROMANCE) (2 page)

Chapter 2

We’re never really told upfront what these
banquets are actually for. The only things I knew about this particular event
were the following: (A) it was a late evening affair, (B) the event was going
to fill the room with a whole bunch of marines, and (C) apparently it was sort
of a big deal.

That’s why I was plenty surprised to find out
that they had only put twelve of us on the payroll for the shift. I’d expected
something kind of small, given that server count. Most of our banquets were
under a hundred people. Our usual ratio was one server to every ten guests,
waiting on them hand and foot.

But this event seated over four hundred
misogynistic Marines, half of them lecherously watching our asses as we
strolled around.

Oh boy, did they love keeping us busy.

We were divided up to take roughly thirty-two
Marines apiece, seated in groups of eight at large round tables. They’d
specifically requested female servers, which hadn’t struck me as anything I’d
necessarily label a good omen.

But, you know, whatever. It’s a gig. Another
couple of hours’ pay in my back pocket, although I wasn’t exactly looking
forward to the cleanup phase. I wasn’t expecting to get out of here until
midnight.

Not like I have a life, anyway.

At least it took some stress off of me about
visiting my Mom. She had met this guy something like half a year ago, and
they’d really hit it off. I’d spoken to him over the phone awkwardly a few
times, but this was the big one. This was the part where I had to go physically
meet
him, him
and
his son.

I wasn’t exactly looking forward to that.
Moving into the city for school had successfully put an hour between us, and
I’d been enjoying the degree of separation.

I mean I had lunch with her all the time.

Well, every two or three weeks.

Did I say weeks? I meant
months
.

Point is, I liked not having her stress over
every facet of my day-to-day life, or following me around the house and venting
about the most inane shit I could fathom.

Living on my own had been stressful and
terrifying in its own right, but it seriously helped that I lucked out with the
best roommate in the world – my rich bitch (I say that affectionately) best
friend, Natalie. Her parents had put her up in a high-rise condominium
apartment that gave her a stunning look over the river, under the condition
that she
not
live alone. Natalie,
through virtue of being my friend since late junior high, offered it to me
first.

Reluctantly, I said yes
.
I wasn’t exactly comfortable with the arrangement and didn’t want
to take advantage of her kindness, so I spent a lot of my free time keeping the
place spic and span from top to bottom.

In fact, that’s pretty much what I’d spent my
morning doing while she was out trying on new clothes and shopping with her
rich friends. There was a distinct parallel to the way my work life lived…
always getting to see that world, but never interact with it.

Sure, I lived in a nice apartment with a
great friend who came from a super wealthy family… but none of that really
belonged to me. It just wasn’t my place in the grand scheme of things.

While I raced around to accommodate my
guests, I started to grow flustered. The Marines were running me completely
ragged, although I couldn’t fault very many of their requests… it seemed like
they were just particularly needy.

From the start, I noticed that there was a
conspicuous missing person from one of my tables. As I filled a few glasses of
water at their side, I snuck a peak at the tri-fold placeholder on the table:

LCpl. Dalton Carlyle, 184
^th
Steel Division.

“Lieutenant Corporal Carlyle should be
joining us shortly,” the disgruntled leader of this table’s cozy little wolf
pack told me. “He appears to be running late.”

“Maybe a little bit,” I replied, topping off
his glass with the most professional grin I could muster. “Your man’s already
twenty minutes behind.” I expanded my attention to the rest of the table. “Your
salads will be out shortly. Does anybody need anything else?”

“No, ma’am.”

“No, thank you.”

“Negative.”

“Very well then,” I nodded politely,
scampering off to fill up other water glasses with one hand, and sweet teas
with the others.

I’d lucked out with most of my Marines. There
were a couple of randy types, checking me out or watching me as I strolled
away, but nobody had openly engaged me in harassing dialogue.

Even with that false sense of security…

I really should have seen it coming.

It was while I was handing out salads that he
strolled in, his suit slightly rumpled and a bounce in his step. The late
Marine looked startlingly handsome, with a broad build and strong jawline.
Other tables paused to watch as he confidently sauntered towards my area,
taking his seat nearby with a chirpy smile.

I tried to keep my eyes off of him as I
focused on dispensing salads, but we made eye contact right before his ass hit
the chair. It’s when he opened his mouth that my knees almost quivered.

“Hullo, love. Sorry I’m late.”

His rich English accent was music to my ears.
Sophisticated, gritty, and yet somehow smooth, I could practically feel my
panties moisten at the very sight and sound of him.

“Lieutenant Corporal Carlyle, I presume?” I
asked, trying to keep my voice straight.

“In the flesh,” he smiled coolly, watching me
with a faint mixture of amusement and arrogance. “Does my reputation precede
me?”

“That, or your name card. I’ll let you decide
which,” I indicated politely enough as I handed him a modest house salad.

“Thank you…
Clara
,” he replied, preparing to dive into the bowl.

“Wait. How do you know my name?” I asked. My
thoughts went erratic as I watched him glance up, a cruel smile crossing his
handsome face.
Oh god, does this guy know
who I am?

Dalton merely chewed as he pointed vaguely
towards my breasts. I glanced down in confusion. There it was… my silver
nametag, pinned against my chest, with my first name spread across in invisible
tape.

“I always forget I have this thing on,” I
chuckled nervously. “Anyway, do you need anything else for the moment, before I
tend to the others?”

“Yeah, actually,” Dalton smiled. To my
horror, the other Marines at the table started to sigh, some of them smiling at
each other and shaking their heads. “Got a menu?”

“This is a closed-course meal,” I answered
mechanically, not liking how they were apparently waiting for something.

“Well, that’s a shame. I was going to ask for
something sweet… Something that would melt in my hands and taste delicious… Can
you think of anything
you
have that
might satisfy my cravings?”

My smiling façade cracked for a second.
Who does this guy think he is?

Dalton continued: “You’d realize what I
really wanted… We’d have this great, big laugh and you’d find it really
endearing, and in a few hours you’d be
fucking
me
.”

The Marines burst out in laughter. While one
of them smacked the table, I cleared my throat and squared my shoulders up.
“Right. Well, if that’s all for the moment…”

Dalton half-smiled at me. “Lighten up, love.
Take a
bloody
joke. I’m good.” He
glanced around the table. “You boys don’t need anything, do you?”

They all shook their heads, composing
themselves, and I drew in a deep, calming breath before turning on my heel… but
not before accidentally making eye contact with Dalton again. He was looking at
me curiously, his half-smile still plastered across his face.

What a prick
, I thought to myself as I tended
to other tables.
Dalton was an
absolute dick. I couldn’t fathom how I found him attractive at all when he
strutted into the room…

Except, he was always looking at me when my
gaze went in that direction. I could feel his smoldering gaze on my back as I
raced around, taking care of my guests.

Soon afterwards, it was time to line up and
dispense the main courses to the guests. For the banquet, the organizing party
had established sautéed salmon, grilled asparagus stalks, and a hearty helping
of garlic red-skinned mashed potatoes. The chefs were running frantic in the
kitchen, determined to keep the presentation as stellar and spotless as
possible.

“Move along, ladies! Once this is over, the
hard part’s done!” Arnold rang out, quickly making minute modifications to the
placement of details against the plates as he swiftly racked up six or seven
entrée plates to a large, black, oval dinner tray. His primary foodrunner was
helping servers shoulder them between running plates and opening tray stands
for us in our sections.

Unfortunately, the seating meant that we
perpetually left a couple of Marines at the tables without food until returning
a few minutes later, but they seemed to understand that we were doing the best
we could.

If anything, it appeared that they enjoyed
the additional opportunities to watch our asses strut along as we power-walked
back and forth across the banquet hall.

Out of pure self-interest, I left Dalton’s
table last in the dropping off of entrees for my section. I could deal with him
ogling me after
seeing to it that
everyone else was satisfied.

“Is there anything else I can get you
gentlemen for the moment?” I asked his table politely, sliding the final entrée
plate to one of his seated companions.

“No, ma’am, I think we’re all good here,” the
leader of the table smiled. “That’ll be all.”

“Actually, there’s something else you can do
for me,” Dalton piped up.

I flashed him a smile, but my eyes said it
all.

“Sure. What can I get for you,
sir?
”

Dalton’s whites showed. “Well, I’ve taken a
few bites of this, and it’s quite good. It’s missing a little something,
though…”

He patted his thighs under the table.

“Why don’t you come sit on my lap and give me
a second opinion, hmm? Take a few bites. Tell me what can be done to give it a
little kick.”

I’m about to give YOU a kick, you
smug son of a bitch,
I
muttered in my head.

“That… won’t be possible, I’m afraid,” I
hastily but cordially answered.

“Oh, go on, humor me. I don’t bite. Unless
that’s your fetish, that is…”

I started to grow red.

“So, you like the biting, huh? Nice little
nibble into your shoulder while you’re in the throes of love?”

The other Marines were snickering again,
looking backwards and forwards between us. Only the leader was letting out a
sigh, palming his face with his elbow against the table.