Chapter 140: The Heartless Bartending Machine

Chapter 140: Chapter 140: The Heartless Bartending Machine

Chapter 140: The Heartless Bartending Machine

The last time Cyrus Calder had been inside Rhea Maddox’s apartment, it had been late enough that he had barely paid attention to anything beyond getting her safely into bed and leaving.

At noon, the place looked completely different.

Sunlight filled the living room through wide windows, revealing details he had missed before. Stuffed animals occupied the couch, the media console, and several shelves near the television. Some were small enough to fit in one hand. Others took up entire corners like oversized decorations.

The toy Rhea had won for him at the arcade suddenly made much more sense.

Apparently she really did have plenty at home.

Cyrus followed her into the open kitchen.

Rhea opened one of the cabinets, exposing a surprisingly complete liquor collection. Bottles of different shapes and sizes covered several shelves, ranging from things Cyrus recognized immediately to a few labels he had only seen while working at The Full Moon Lounge.

Combined with the mixers, citrus, and other supplies they had picked up on the way here, making drinks at home would not be difficult.

Cyrus looked over the selection, then turned toward Rhea.

"Do you usually drink at home instead of going to bars?"

"I still go out," Rhea replied. "I just do not return to most places after the first visit."

"Why not?"

"Some bartenders make drinks that taste terrible and somehow manage to make them ugly too."

Cyrus gave her a flat look.

He hoped she was actually talking about the drinks.

Rhea’s tone had turned suggestive enough that the sentence could easily have meant something else.

Cyrus refused to take the bait.

She did not push.

Instead, Rhea opened another drawer and brought out a full bartending set. She placed the shaker, strainer, jigger, and other tools on the counter, then pointed out the freezer drawer where she kept ice.

Cyrus opened it and glanced inside.

"You still want iced drinks in weather like this?"

Rhea leaned one hip against the counter.

"The fact that I can handle something cold should be a good thing, shouldn’t it?"

The expression she gave him invited several possible interpretations.

Cyrus ignored all of them.

Rhea turned and walked around the island, taking the stool on the opposite side of the open kitchen.

"Then you can consider it helping me cool down."

Cyrus nodded as if she had made a perfectly ordinary request.

Fortunately, he had developed a decent resistance to conversations like this.

The open layout worked in his favor too. Rhea could sit outside the kitchen and watch everything he did without needing to crowd behind the counter. From his side, it felt close enough to working at the lounge that he could focus on familiar motions.

Rhea rested her chin against one hand and watched him openly.

A faint smile appeared on her face.

She had imagined a scene like this before.

She simply had not expected reality to catch up so quickly.

For that, perhaps she should thank Helena.

If Helena had not been the first one to pay Cyrus for his time outside the lounge, Rhea might never have realized just how willing he was to accept a private arrangement when the price and boundaries suited him.

The face looked almost abstinent at times, as though Cyrus had no worldly desires beyond food, sleep, and enough money to keep people away from him.

Apparently the money part mattered very much.

That was useful.

She was not going to think about the rest of his life today.

For these few hours, at least, she had paid for his time.

Today belonged to her.

There was also something else she wanted to prove.

Behind the counter, Cyrus removed the new jacket he had been wearing and set it somewhere safe before starting. A loose wool sweater remained underneath.

He pushed the sleeves up his forearms.

It was an ordinary movement.

Under Rhea’s attention, even that seemed to acquire more meaning than it deserved.

She never looked away.

At the lounge, she usually watched Cyrus work from the front. Seeing him move around a private kitchen gave her a different angle. She could watch his shoulders shift when he reached for a bottle, the efficient way he arranged tools, and the little pauses where he mentally measured what he needed before touching anything.

Cyrus knew perfectly well that she was staring.

He concentrated on the bottles instead.

Today, he was nothing more than a heartless bartending machine.

That was the safest way to approach this arrangement.

"What do you want to drink?"

Rhea considered the question.

"Something easy to drink, but strong enough that I will actually feel it."

Cyrus’s hand paused over the bottles.

Then he accepted the request without comment.

So she wanted to get drunk.

That was her decision.

She was already at home. If she drank too much, Cyrus could simply stop serving her and leave once he had finished what she paid him to do.

Her cabinet was well stocked, and the mixers they had bought made the request straightforward enough.

As Cyrus began preparing the first drink, Rhea glanced toward the living room.

"Do you want music?"

"Instrumental music would be good."

Cyrus had nearly said he did not care, then changed his answer.

Given Rhea’s current mood, saying she could choose anything seemed dangerous.

He could easily imagine her putting on some aggressively suggestive playlist and calling it necessary atmosphere.

Instrumental music removed that problem entirely.

Rhea made a dissatisfied little sound.

She obeyed anyway.

A mellow instrumental track soon started playing through the apartment speakers.

Cyrus was mildly surprised.

He had expected her to ignore his preference and choose whatever she wanted.

Apparently she could be unusually cooperative when she decided to be.

The music settled into the room without demanding attention. During the stretches when neither of them spoke, the apartment did not feel awkward.

More importantly, the openly suggestive atmosphere Rhea had been trying to create weakened under the calm rhythm.

Cyrus approved.

Instrumental music had once again proven its value to society.

Several minutes later, he turned around with the finished drink.

A small sphere of ice rested inside the glass. The liquid began as pale green near the bottom before fading into a light amber-orange toward the top. At a glance, it looked closer to a sweet bottled drink than something designed to get anyone drunk.

He had kept the rim plain.

Rhea accepted it and immediately took a sip.

Cyrus said nothing, but surprise flickered through him.

She had not asked what was in it.

From where she sat, she had mostly seen his back while he prepared it. Yet she drank without hesitation.

Did this woman have no sense of self-preservation?

If Cyrus had actually meant her harm, trusting him this much inside her own apartment would have been unbelievably careless.

Then again, Cyrus had the uncomfortable suspicion that if he did have malicious intentions, Rhea might consider that a successful outcome rather than a problem.

That made the trust considerably less reassuring.

By the time he finished processing the thought, Rhea had already consumed half the glass.

A little color touched her cheeks.

Only then did she seem to remember something.

"You are not drinking with me?"

"I am making drinks for you."

Rhea studied him over the rim of her glass.

"That is fair."

She did not argue.

Another half hour passed.

Small plates of desserts and snacks had appeared on the island between them. Rhea ate occasionally, but the cocktails disappeared much faster.

One glass became another.

Cyrus adjusted the recipes so they did not all taste the same, working through what she had available while keeping track of how much alcohol was going into each drink.

He had not taken a single sip himself.

His original unease gradually turned into curiosity.

Why was she drinking so quickly?

Was something bothering her?

Cyrus glanced at the remaining ingredients and mentally estimated how much she had consumed.

It was not a small amount.

Yet only now were Rhea’s eyes beginning to lose some of their usual focus.

Her tolerance was far better than he expected.

If she had ordered this much at The Full Moon Lounge, the final bill would have been impressive.

Then Cyrus remembered the remaining payment from today’s arrangement.

His concerns softened immediately.

Fine.

This really was a different kind of sugar date.

At least he was earning money through professional work.

Rhea emptied another glass.

After setting it down, she stayed still for several seconds, seeming to make some private decision.

Then she stood.

"I am going to the bathroom."

"That is fine. Take your time."

Cyrus watched her walk away.

Her steps were steady.

That settled one question.

She was definitely not drunk enough to lose control of herself.

Once Rhea disappeared around the corner, Cyrus collected the empty glasses and carried the used tools to the sink.

He rinsed everything carefully, washed the shaker from the last drink, and returned the tools to the counter.

He had barely finished when Rhea called from elsewhere in the apartment.

"Cyrus!"

He turned toward the sound.

"What happened?"

"Come here for a minute."

Cyrus closed his eyes briefly.

So they had finally reached this part.

He had expected something eventually.

If Rhea had invited him home, fed him alcohol-free food while she drank, and paid an absurd amount of money for his company, there was always a chance she would try pushing the arrangement beyond bartending.

Cyrus had already decided where the line was.

He could refuse clearly and leave.

He had no intention of selling his body, no matter how much money someone offered. His suppressants were already expensive enough without him deliberately creating another biological problem and paying for the consequences later.

If someone offered themselves for free, he would still run.

Money had limits.

Cyrus dried his hands and walked toward the corner where Rhea had disappeared.

The bathroom door was open.

She was not inside.

He stopped.

Then her voice came from farther down the hall.

"Are you coming?"

Cyrus looked toward the source.

The room that had been locked when he brought her home the other night was now partly open.

So that was where she had gone.

Cyrus walked to the door and placed one hand against it.

His mind had already prepared several possibilities, including the obvious one where Rhea was waiting behind the door intending to offer herself as part of their so-called date.

If that happened, he would refuse and leave.

Simple enough.

Cyrus pushed the door open.

Even with all the possibilities he had considered beforehand, the scene waiting inside still caught him completely off guard.