Rebel Heir (Rush Series Duet #1)(30)

It took every bit of willpower I had in me to not walk over there and punch the little peckerhead she was talking to in the face. But somehow I managed to control myself. Taking a deep breath, I didn’t acknowledge her. Instead, I went about my own business. I pulled a table over to the corner that had the best sunset views, stuck a reserved sign on it, and then set up a comfortable chair so my mom would have a place to paint.

When I was done, I yelled over to the bartender who was now enemy number one. “This is reserved for tonight. If anyone sits here or takes that chair, you’re fired.”

I didn’t wait for an answer.

Back downstairs, I put my anger to use, bellowing at my staff to move their asses. They looked at me like I was a ticking time bomb, although with the insane amount of rage I felt in my chest, I wasn’t quite sure they were that off base.

Needing to calm down, I stomped toward the bar, poured myself a shot of whiskey, and knocked it back before heading outside for a cigarette. The smoke soothed the fire in my throat when it should have fanned the flame.

I smelled her before I heard her voice. Lost in my head, I hadn’t even noticed Gia open or close the door behind me. “Hey. There you are. Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” I clipped out and inhaled again deeply until the ember tip of my cigarette turned a bright shade of orange.

“I wasn’t trying to stop Rhys from working, if that’s what pissed you off. I carried up a few bottles of rum, knowing there is a drink special on the menu with rum in it tonight.”

I responded in a more bitter tone than I’d intended. “Why are you here?”

“I’m working tonight. I guess Carla didn’t tell you? We switched tonight for Saturday night because she had something to do.”

My face was blank. “No. She didn’t tell me. Why the fuck would anyone tell me anything around here? I only own the damn place.”

“You’re in a mood. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, Gia. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want all of my staff to go about their business and keep the hell out of mine. Is that so fucking hard to do?”

She blinked a few times, her face looked like I’d just physically slapped her. “No. That’s not so hard to do, boss. Forgive me if I overstepped and gave a shit because you looked like you might be upset.” She turned to leave, stopping as she opened the door. “It won’t happen again.”





My mom showed up at six o’clock. I was talking to a DJ who stopped by to discuss the upcoming Fourth of July party I’d hired him for, when I saw her out of the corner of my eye. She smiled spotting me, and it was the first time I felt my shoulders loosen enough to breathe comfortably today.

“Hey, Ma.” I swamped her in a big hug. My mom was a tiny little thing. She liked to tease that I’d almost killed her giving birth to my ten-pound pudgy ass. My size was the one thing that I’d clearly gotten from my father that I didn’t hate.

“Happy fifty-second birthday.”

She smiled. “Shhh. I’m thirty-eight this year.”

In all honestly, no one would blink twice if she said she was thirty-eight. Melody Rushmore kept herself in great shape with daily yoga and some sort of transcendental meditation that she always tried to get me to try out. Looking at her, people would never know that she had a tough life. The youngest of four children raised in rural Canada by an abusive father and alcoholic mother, she moved to New York City at only eighteen. She met my asshole father at twenty-two and fell for his bullshit. Eighteen months later, when she was two months pregnant with me, his true colors came out when he demanded she get an abortion. Before that, she’d had no idea that he was married. Definitely no clue that his wife had just given birth to a son of their own just six months earlier. Since dear old dad wasn’t about to own up to his responsibilities without a paternity test, Mom had to stop working at her dream job at the art gallery and find a job that provided insurance. She’d given up a lot for me, even before I was born.

“Is your easel in the car?”

“Yes. But I don’t need to use it. I can just put a canvas on my lap.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Let me get you something to drink, and then I’ll go grab your stuff from the car.”

I walked Mom to the bar, my eyes trained on the adjoining dining room where some fuckwad in a cheap suit was checking out Gia’s ass while she walked him to a table. The fucking universe is out to test my patience tonight.

Distracted, I poured Mom a glass of wine that almost overflowed. “Let me have your keys. I’ll be right back.”

Cheap Suit was still molesting Gia with his eyes. On my way to Mom’s car, I walked over to the table he still hadn’t sat his ass down at. “Everything okay here?” My face did not look like it gave a flying fuck if it was.

Gia’s brows furrowed. “Fine. Did you need something?”

I glared at Cheap Suit. “Just for your customers to take their seat so you can get back to work.”

Gia glared back on his behalf. “Thank you. If we need any assistance, we’ll let you know.”

I stormed off to the car. At the door, Oak shot me a knowing grin that said he’d just watched the interaction I had with my employee. I pointed a finger at him. “Don’t say a fucking word.” Then crashed the front door to the restaurant open.