My Freya & Our Miracle Baby

Freya POV Serving up a bunch of mixed cocktails for socialites and people who are practically drooling in money isn’t exactly my version of a good time, but it does pay the bills. This insane club always has the women here dress provocatively and men here shirtless. I mean do these people have any self-respect? I guess, I should be asking myself that question.  “Almost midnight.” Klara nudges on my arm and I let out an aggrieved sigh. She’s the only person keeping me sane in here “Apparently, we have some hot shot coming tonight. John wants our “chests up.” Through the roll of my eyes, we both make a small smirk. John is a nice enough boss and all, but he is always trying to slum it with the elites. And by that, I mean he’s quite literally either trying to marry one of these socialites or become friends with the rich and famous.  “Oh, great. Another hot shot.” I say as I pour out the mojito that some chick ordered before running her card quickly.  “Yeah, right?!” Klara exclaims in an agitated tone. “What is that? Like the fourth one in the past week?”  “We’re getting popular.” George says as he flashes a dashing smile to some bride at her bachelorette party. They’re taking a decent number of shots, perhaps we should slow it down before we all get into some deep s**t.  “And I wonder why?!” Klara ogles her eyebrows at me, and I proceed to give her another huge eye roll. “Don’t even say it.” I groan out as a bunch of frat guys finally make their way from staring at me from their corner table to the bar to order their damn drinks.  “Here they come now!” Klara points as George joins her in her taunts towards me.  “Someone else please take their order.” Despite my begs, they all imitate as if their hands are tied. Assholes. Good for nothing assholes.  “Eight rum and cokes.” The blonde haired, hazel eye man says to me, and I nod. “Preference on rum?” Quickly asking to dodge any incoming comment about my hair, boobs, or anything else guys think are an instant pass into your pants.  “The most expensive one you got.” Deep down I let out a smile. Perhaps this could be more fun than I thought.  “Alright, you’re the boss.” My smirk lingers and his eyes practically glow in excitement before making its way straight to my chest. Typical.  “Damn, baby.” I wonder how long it took him to suppress that comment. “If you’re going to talk to me like that, we might have to take this downstairs.” I should note that this club is at the rooftop of a very exclusive hotel, ran by the Kingsman Mafia.  “That’s going to cost you more than eight rum and cokes.” I shrug lightly before giving a soft little innocent smile that I know will entrap him.              “Make it the bottle of your most expensive rum.” He grins widely at me as he snakes his disgusting hazel eyes down my body. “Well, at least we know you have good taste.” Flaring up an eyebrow, I set his drinks down on a tray and hand it to him. “Card?” Sliding over I’m sure is daddy’s trust fund credit card, I run the $6000 tab and then proceed to hand him the card to tip.  “So, are we going downstairs or what?” I retain my flirty tone despite gritting through my teeth. Almost finished. Just hold onto it a little longer. “Oh, honey.” I say before leaning in and whispering into his ear. “You can’t handle me.” With that light whisper, I feel that shudder go down his back as he whistles out and proceeds to take his card before leaving the bar.  “How do you do that?” Klara nudges at me as we clean up the equipment to prepare for the order.  “Do what?”  “Make them fall over you like that.” Internally, I am hit with this pang of guilt and panic, but I have to remain calm, at least for now. “He practically did whatever you wanted. I can’t believe he just bought that rum!” “Yeah, that rum is disgusting.” George remarks as we take a look in their direction and they all look strangely at the rum they just took a shot of.  “Well, they asked for the most expensive rum, and I gave it to them.” Giving a casual shrug, I try not to think about it too much. I actually like these people that I work with. It’s going to go to s**t if they find out that my father taught me how to lie and manipulate through everything in life. Sometimes I am so good at the lying part that I don’t even know if or when I am lying. That’s the terrifying part.  “Five shots of your Louis XIII Cognac.” An attractive looking man diverges our attention. Not sure who he is asking, he actually beats us to the next words. “Extra cash if you can just deliver it to the penthouse suite.” With that, he just leaves.  “Okay..” Karla says with an annoyed tone. “Rude, much?”  “Like you weren’t just drooling all over him?” George and I laugh at his comment.  “Shut up! Was not!” Shaking our heads, we decide to rock, paper, scissor to see who is the unlucky bastard that has to deliver the drinks to the penthouse. “Damn!” I yell out as I lose against George. “Fine. Fine. I’ll do it, but he better be a good tipper.” The black dress I am wearing practically has my D-cup boobs spilling out of it. It’s so short that I swear if I bend down, the world can see my privates. On top of that, they have this slit on the upper waist that shows my upper thighs. That with my 3-inch black heels, I hate getting out from this bar.  “Hurry up!” George gestures.  “Yeah, you wouldn’t want to miss the big shot coming in later.” Klara winks at me like that would somehow make all of this better. It doesn’t. Huffing and puffing, I put on my big girl pants and I grab the tray of drinks to head over to the private elevator for the penthouse and luxury suite’s floors. A couple of guys pinch my ass here and there, but at least I made it over here without spilling anything.           “Doing alright, Frey?” The security guard asks before I make it inside the elevator. There’s two of them guarding the damn thing after the last time some girl tried to sneak her way down there. It did not end well.  “Am I ever?” I let out a small smile at them.  “Don’t look him in the eye, Frey.” The other security guard tells me as the elevator doors open and I walk in. What a strange thing to say.  “Don’t look who in the eye?” Before they get a chance to answer, the door closes and I head down the penthouse suite. Before the elevator can open up, I have to slide my key card in, another security measure. “I don’t care who that d**k thinks he is!” I hear a rough man’s powerful voice that sounds strangely melodic. “I want that man-“ He stops when he sees me and c***s his head to the side. The other men in the room turn to look in my direction.  Woah, if I thought that man that asked for the drinks was attractive, he doesn’t hold a candle to the man facing me. He has light-skin with rough black hair that is tussled up on his head beautifully adorned. With those electric blue eyes and a strong build, damn. Just damn. Oh, s**t. I broke the security guard’s warning. Don’t look him in the eyes. Now, I know why.  One of them jumps up and gestures for me to meet him halfway. Doing so, I hand him the drinks and he hands me a block wad of hundreds. Is this man insane? This is probably worth more than the bottle itself and then some.  “Sir, did you want change..? Or perhaps the whole bottle?” Damn, I let common sense slip out.  “No, no. We’re fine.” He says before he ushers me to go. Turning around to head back to my shift, I hear John call out to me.  “Frey.” Humming as I turn around, I face him.  “Grab two bottles.” I nod simply before heading back upstairs. Once those elevator door closes, I let out a huge breath that I was holding practically the moment I saw that man. God damn. I have never quite been out of breath for a man, but even I have to say he exceeds any expectation I have for any man, ever. “So, how did it go?” Klara says with a huge smile as I put the wad of cash under the bar to show our accomplishment. “Holy s**t!” George exclaims as the other side of the bar groans at us. Bitches. We work in sections and switch off every night. Tonight, we are on the ends which just makes it easier for any “major” people to come up and ask for a drink so that we can easily take it down there for them. But usually, that never happens. George, Klara, and I are always paired up because we each have certain specialties, so we always share the tips with one another.  “This isn’t fair!” Hannah yells down the next section over. There are a total of six sections since it does wrap around, almost a full circle. He could have came over to Hannah’s or our section since we were both on the ends tonight.  “And how is that?” Fighting back against Hannah seems to be a routine for us as Klara snarks immediately at her.    “Not all of us had plastic surgery.” She points down to my chest, to which I scoff.  “Not that it’s any of your business, but these are real.” I say as I quickly grab two bottles of the Louis XII Cognac and everyone stops what they are doing to take a look at me.  “What the hell are you doing?” Hannah screeches over.  “John asked me to bring two bottles!” I yell over. Right when my two feet are firmly planted on the ground, Hannah immediately takes those bottles of my hands.  “Then, out of fairness, you should let me take it down there.” She snarks before quickly leaving the drinks that she was in the midst of making to her partners as they scramble to keep up with the rush. f*****g hell. Take it for all I care.  “Geez. What is her problem?” George says with disappointment laced over his voice. They used to date. Clearly, it did not work out. And for the better, if I might say so myself.  “Look. We already made money tonight. Let’s not make a big deal out of this. Hannah is just being Hannah.” I say calmly to make George feel better, but I’m not quite sure it’s working.  “Looks like our big shot might not show up after all.” “What do you mean?” I ask Klara.  “It’s almost 12:30 and John and the big shot are nowhere to be seen.” Oh, I suppose that guy could have been the big shot that we were anticipated to come. I didn’t even realize. Not ten minutes later, Hannah comes marching over to the bar from the private elevator in an angry huff, but she looks different. Her mascara is running like she had been crying. Her dress is roughed up in that it is riked up to the point where her cheeks are showing. There, you can see some red marks that are about to form some bruises. Was she just… “Are you okay?” George beats me to asking her.  “I’m fine!” She yells out as she fixes her dress and makeup before quickly adjusting back to the pace of work. Not wanting to push her any further, I stay on my orders.  ”Okay, woah.” With a smack on the chest that causes me to shove Karla a bit in response, she points in the direction of the man that I was just faced with.  “That’s the guy in the penthouse suite.” I say with a small shrug even though I am kind of screaming inside.  “And you didn’t tell me!” Karla throws up a fit and I let out a giggle.  “I was hoping to keep him to myself.” I feign innocence that we both laugh out loud from, causing John to make his way over. Oh, s**t.  “Ohp, we’re in it for now.” George remarks. “What did you do now, Frey?” “Why do you always assume it’s me?!” “You’re too innocent. One day, you’re gonna pop off.” Hyena laughing, I punch him hard in the arm, but it doesn’t quite put a dent on his solid stance.  “Yeah, well, John looks pissed and he’s headed our way.”