Chapter 43

Stella’s POV

The hum of voices in the pub was a comfort, the familiar clink of glasses and the soft murmur of customers settling in for the night. I was behind the bar, cleaning the counters with a practiced hand, making sure every surface gleamed just right. I loved this place. It was mine—well, for the most part. No one could ruin it for me, not unless I let them.

The door creaked open, breaking my focus. I glanced up, my fingers still wrapped around the cloth I was using to wipe down the bar. A tall woman stepped in, her heels clicking loudly on the hardwood floor as she moved with slow, deliberate steps. My first thought was: She’s overdressed for a place like this.

Her gown was tight, so tight it hugged her every curve, and the material shimmered under the low lights of the pub. A rich shade of red that was far too eye-catching for someone who just wanted to grab a drink. She walked with confidence, almost as if the room had been made for her to step into, and she carried herself with that arrogant air of someone who thought they were above the rest.

I didn’t need to see her face to know who she was. It didn’t take long. She made her way toward me with a smile that was all too sweet for my taste. Mona.

She leaned against the bar, her eyes gleaming as she met my gaze. She looked... stunning, I’d give her that. But I hated her the moment I laid eyes on her. Every inch of her screamed perfect—perfectly polished, perfectly poised, perfectly everything I wasn’t.

“Stella,” she said my name like it was some kind of delicate thing, her voice smooth and measured. “I’ll be working here with you.”

The words hit me like a slap in the face. Working here? No. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Not in my space, not in my pub. I had made this place my own, and now she was walking in like she owned it.

I blinked, trying to hide the shock, but it was hard to mask the wave of insecurity that crashed over me. Mona, working here? She didn’t belong in a place like this.

“Well, you’re not going to be working here with me,” I said, the words leaving my mouth sharper than I intended. I couldn’t hide the irritation, the sudden tightness in my chest. I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning against the bar. “You’re not in my league, Mona.”

Her smile faltered for a second, but then she straightened, the look in her eyes becoming more determined. She’s not going to back down, I realized. I could see it in the way she stood, like she was ready for a fight.

"I didn’t ask to be your teammate, Stella," she said with a hint of playfulness in her tone, but there was something underneath that—something like defiance. "But here I am, and we’ll be working together."

I tried not to let the hurt show. I tried not to let it twist in my gut. She was here to take over. Again.

I looked her up and down, feeling my insecurities flare. She looked so put-together. Her skin was flawless, her makeup perfect, her posture impeccable. She was everything I wasn’t, and I could feel the heat of jealousy building in my chest, making my throat tighten. Why did she have to be so perfect? Why did she have to come into my space?

“Keep away from me, Mona,” I said, my voice low but firm. “You don’t belong here. I don’t need you crowding my space.”

Her eyes widened, a brief flicker of surprise in them before she masked it with another smile. She was good at this—too good at playing the perfect role.

“I’m just here to work,” she said, her voice so innocent it was almost mocking. “I thought we could be friends. Colleagues. But if you want to keep things... cold between us, that’s fine too.”

I turned away from her, the sting of her words biting at me, but I wouldn’t let her see how much they affected me. I focused on the glass in front of me, cleaning it with more force than necessary, my knuckles turning white against the cold surface.

“I said stay away, Mona,” I repeated, not bothering to look at her. I was doing everything I could to avoid the way she made me feel. Less than.

I could feel her standing there, probably still trying to look all composed and perfect, but I wasn’t going to let her intimidate me. Not here. Not in my pub.

There was a silence that stretched between us, thick and suffocating. The sound of glasses being set down and customers laughing in the background seemed distant, as if they were all a world away from this moment, this battle of egos that was happening between us. I didn’t want to care. I didn’t want to feel this way, but there it was, that gnawing insecurity deep in my gut.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I heard her heels click away, the soft sound of her footsteps fading as she walked toward her designated station. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, and forced myself to calm down.

But I couldn’t stop myself from glancing over at her. She looked like she belonged. Of course, she did. She always did. She was sitting at her station now, adjusting the papers in front of her as if everything was perfectly in place. Meanwhile, I was stuck here, feeling like I was barely holding onto my position.

I couldn’t let her see how much she bothered me. I wouldn’t let her.

My hands moved automatically as I cleaned, but my gaze stayed locked on her, despite myself. I couldn’t help it. Every time she moved, every time she smiled at someone, my stomach churned. I hated how effortlessly she commanded attention, how effortlessly she slipped into any role she wanted.

I couldn’t let her win. I wouldn’t.

I wiped down the bar, but all I could think about was Mona—sitting there, looking like she owned everything. I could feel the jealousy bubbling up, but I buried it down. I was better than that. I had to be.

I caught her looking at me once, her eyes flashing with something I couldn’t quite place. Was it a pity? Was she trying to get under my skin? It didn’t matter. I wouldn’t let her. I wouldn’t let anyone see how much I was struggling.

“Keep away, Mona,” I muttered under my breath, even though I knew she wouldn’t hear me. “You’re not going to make me crack. Not here. Not with me.”