My dear little broccolis💚💚💚

💚 Give Me The Daddy, I'll Give You The Sugar 💚

"The best investment I ever made, was when I lost fifty million dollars and met the love of my life as a result of that."

‼️Rated M - {Out Of Characters/All Human/Alternate Universe}‼️

‼️Romance/Angst/Drama/Lemons‼️

‼️Clace/The Waylands/OGs/Magnus Bane/‼️

💚 READ & REVIEW, DON'T BE A SILENT READER 💚

Chapter 1: Cakes & Cocktails (8,5K)

During the summer that followed her breakup with Henry, Clary accumulated two jobs, putting aside as much money as she could for her studies. She already had some money set aside, but not as much as she could have due to paying so many times Henry's part of the rent.

She had managed to find a steady schedule that would be changed once she would start school. In the mornings she would work in a famous hotel in the centre of Manhattan called Alicante. It wasn't much hard work because she worked for the restaurant part of the hotel, and she was mostly assigned to room service, bringing breakfast to the rich people too lazy to come out of their rooms to eat.

Though the job was rather boring, going from room to room saying 'room service', she still clung on to it because it paid more than well. Probably because it was one of the top hotels of New York with a certain clientele who didn't know that one could spend a night in a hotel for less than three hundred dollars.

But the one thing she didn't really like about this job was the fact that they had a tip jar system, meaning that any tip she would make, she would have to share it with her colleagues. Sure, she didn't often make a lot of tips since she only took care of the room service, but there was still the odd customers who would give her a Benjamin Franklin.

Those were usually the regulars, and she had learnt to know the little things they would like to have on their tray or the way they would like their food delivered. Some of them even fancied a quick chat from time to time, finding a brief escape from their life in a sweet smile from her.

But she didn't really dwell on that since she had another job she could rely on. Sure, for the same amount of hours, she was paid less, but working in Idris, the bar-restaurant just around the corner was something Clary enjoyed a lot. She liked how it was much more relaxed than the hotel, even though it was still an upper-class establishment. And she gave all the credits to the director of that bar, Magnus Bane.

Magnus was actually the reason she always came to work with a smile. She was fully aware that she was lucky to have two jobs that paid above the average in that part of town, especially when she barely had any references, and that her past was rather unconventional. She was sure it was mostly because she presented well, and because she had a pretty face. After all, hospitality liked to have a staff nice to look at.

There was a certain charm about her. Un petit je-ne-sais-quoi as Madam Dorothea (the manager of Alicante) would say. She was rather small for a woman, but her face attracted the eye and made anyone forget about her lack of height (that, and the fact that she always wore heels, no matter what). She had always had big green eyes, so big that they seemed ready to devour the world, and as soon as she got around makeup, she always made sure to put the highlight on them. Nothing heavy, but she would rarely go out without curling and coating her lashes, and putting some kohl on her waterline.

Her hair also caught the attention, but not because of its colour. People seemed obsessed to see her with her hair down, and she had always worn them in a bun. That was a result of her younger days when she learnt the hard way that loose hair made it easy for assailants to grab her. She considered for a long time to cut her hair, but she liked it too much to get rid of it. So she always put it in a high bun on the top of her head, making her heart-shaped face seem even longer.

And she wasn't going to lie, she knew she had a figure for herself. She was no Kardashian, far from it, but she still had that hourglass figure, with perky lumps small enough to fit in someone's hand, but big enough to catch that person's eye.

She wasn't vain or anything, but after surviving so long on her own and in the streets, she had learnt to recognise the way a man (and occasionally a woman) appreciably looked at her. Even more, she had learnt to be conscious about it, and always on her guard, so she could defend herself if the worst was to come, which had already happened to her more times than she would have liked.

There was actually something about Magnus Bane that made her sure that his reason for employing her had more to do than her pretty face. Something in his eyes that she immediately recognised because she saw that exact same expression in the mirror every morning. Magnus had had dark days, and she was ready to bet her next wage that, just like her, he saw the look they shared and decided to give her her chance.

As it turned out, after working the whole summer with him and helping him with the closing more often than she was supposed to, she had started bonding with the man. They would even have lunch together on her days off as they slowly opened up about each other's past. Of course, because the two of them had so many walls up, it was little things, but she could tell that she was making a true friend in the man, someone she knew she would be able to rely on.

Of course, her budding friendship with the director of the bar led to many nasty rumours about her and how she got the role in the first place, not that she cared. She was pretty sure that Magnus was more interested in men than in women, and she had learnt over the years not to take personally how people perceived her.

When school started, she managed to keep both her jobs part-time, against Magnus's wise advice. He told her that studying and working were rarely a good combo and that she would either lose her health and sanity, either dropout, but Clary was stubborn. She wanted to have it all, and she would. She was in no position to ask for a loan, so she knew she had to keep on working to pay for her school.

She kept her shifts the same, but with fewer hours, working from six in the morning to nine-ten (depending on her classes) at Alicante, and from seven to midnight at Idris. And as school started, her barely existent social life ended. She still had fun with Magnus when she worked with him. But her only day off, Sunday, was entirely focused on studying, and every bit spare of time that she had, she did the same.

Still, she managed to balance work and study, finding her need for social interactions with the customers she had at the bar. Though Idris was a bar-restaurant, Clary liked taking care of the bar section of it a bit more. People were more relaxed and more eager to joke around with her. She had a couple of regulars who liked being in her section, whether they were here for business or for leisure, but her favourite regulars were a couple of old ladies.

They had been best friends ever since they could walk, and came from L.A to New York every month to indulge in a Broadway show. Clary wasn't really sure what those two ladies did in their lives, they liked to change their version every time they came, from starlets in the '60s to the first actresses of the adult film industry, it seemed that they couldn't pick which story to tell. Though Clary knew they were just teasing. Mary and Ann always brought a big smile on her face when they came, especially when they were trying to fix her up with some random other customers, using a very colourful language that usually made the interested men blush from head to toe.

There was as well a couple of businessmen she liked waiting for, mostly because no matter the fancy suits, and the expansive watches, they did not have their heads up their asses. She could have friendly banter with them, which always seemed appreciated.

All in all, Clary had a routine that she liked, no matter how draining and exhausting it was. All she had to do was stick it up for the next five to six years, and then, she would be able to help children the way no one had helped her.

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

Two weeks after school had started, Clary was already starting to feel the drain of working so much all the while studying, and she was waiting for Christmas break with impatience, even though she knew she still had four months to wait. She didn't befriend anyone at school, which she expected since it was a competitive place, so she could never ask for anyone for their notes if she missed a class, which was why she had to be there for each and every one of them.

Though she made a decent amount of money for a student, she still lived as if she didn't, eating more noodle pots than it was probably healthy and nothing else. Every bit of extra money she had, she would put it in a saving account to pay for her next year. She could afford to think any other way or to allow splurging once in a while.

As she arrived on Monday morning at Alicante, Madam Dorothea gave her the list of the rooms requiring room service, with the time she was supposed to deliver it. And like each and every time it happened, she pointed out that the top penthouse guest was in town, and not to mess up their order.

The top penthouse was a room that was constantly booked by the same person. They would come every two weeks or so, staying for a couple of days or more, and in the four months she had been working there, Clary had never seen them. It was the only room where she was asked to go in and put the breakfast tray inside, even though they usually avoided stepping in rooms when guests were there too.

Clary slightly grimaced when she saw that she had to go to the penthouse. Saying that the guest was OCD was an understatement. Every little thing had to be put a certain way. Though, shortly after she had started school, she had noticed that when she would go in the room, work papers were always by the table overlooking the city. So instead of putting the food on the coffee table as instructed, she put it on the table, so whoever was working so much could enjoy the view whilst eating. The next time she had to deliver breakfast, there was a space cleared for her to put the food on the table, a subtle way to say that her initiative had been appreciated.

She checked on the bookings to see if it was the guest first day back in Alicante or not, and when she saw it was, she grabbed an extra bottle of water. It was nothing, and certainly not something she had been instructed to do, but if they had just journeyed from wherever else in the world, she knew they would appreciate having an extra bottle of water.

After her round, she still had an hour to kill, so she went by the bar of the hotel, and told Jim that she would cover him for the next hour. Of course, Jim used the opportunity to bolt out, probably eager to smoke a cigarette, or something else. She made sure that Jim had everything ready for when the lunch rush would start, and as she was busy stacking up the red wines, a deep masculine voice hailed her.

"A Dalmore 62, please. One cube of ice."

She turned her head, surprised by the demand and was faced with a greek god sitting on the other side of the counter. She was pretty sure that some countries in the world had laws forbidding people to be that good-looking. She wasn't sure what she liked most, his strong built that showed he worked out and promised some kind of fun; or his golden eyes, that seemed haunted at this precise moment.

She snapped out of her staring, raising her eyebrows when she checked the time and saw that it was barely nine; and before she could even think to stop herself, she remarked,

"Isn't it a bit early for something that strong?"

He snorted with a disabused smile, and retorted, "It's never too early when you're loosing a fifty million dollars deal."

Of course. She turned around to serve him his drink, rolling her eyes at the same occasion. Normal people sought refuge in alcohol because they couldn't even find a job, and there were people like 50MIL who did it because they were losing fifty million dollars. She wasn't even going to earn that much in her whole lifetime.

She slid the drink to him and asked for the room number so she could put it on his tap. He shook his head and used his card, but he did not drink his liquor straight away. He blatantly stared at her, playing with his glass as his eyes ravaged her face and her figure, making her feel as if she was not wearing any uniform.

She did not shy away, staring right back at him, her eyes taking in his tawny and unruly hair (the only thing that seemed unprofessional about him), his expensive watch and suit, the thin lines around his eyes that assured her that he was definitely older than her.

"You're new here," He observed, his eyes looking at her hair before settling on her face. "Where is Jim ?"

"On a break. I'm usually just taking care of room service."

He nodded, and she resumed her mission with the red wines. She had to say, if she'd had the time, red wine would be her poison. She liked the strong liquors as well, but nothing could ever go wrong with a good glass of red wine.

She felt his gaze on her from time to time, as he was messaging people on his phone, his glass of scotch still untouched, and when she had nothing else to do but to wait for Jim to come back, she stood there as he took his glass back in his hand.

"So, what does a pretty thing like you is doing working in a hotel? If anything, you should be a guest here, not a staff member."

"Well, we don't all have the luxury of losing fifty million dollars. Some of us have to work hard to get what they want," She bit, cursing at herself and her big mouth.

She knew Magnus didn't mind her putting customers back in their place, especially when they would start to get inappropriate, but Madam Dorothea was strict. Fair, but strict. But she had some difficulties being nice to someone who was whining about losing that much money when she didn't even know if she would be able to pay her next year.

50MIL smirked at her, apparently more amused than impressed by her comment, and defended himself, "Oh don't worry, I do work hard for my money. Which is why it's annoying when I lose in my investments."

"Maybe you shouldn't have put all your eggs in the same bag."

"I haven't so far."

"Then, maybe you shouldn't be so greedy. Maybe this is a life lesson for next time."

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," He quoted, and she had nothing to retort. It was a saying she knew all too well, she had lived by it most of her life.

Once he put the glass back in the counter, she took it, pointing at the bottle again, but he shook his head, asking,

"So, what do you work so hard for, Clarissa?"

She repressed a grimace, hating being at a disadvantage and not knowing his name. She knew he had read hers on her name tag, and this was one of the reasons why she didn't like much the hotel. First of all, she didn't like people calling her her full name. Second, she didn't like people knowing her name period. Though she knew it was stupid, she felt that it gave them a sort of power over her.

She saw Jim walking to them and brightly smiled at her saviour, before letting 50MIL know,

"I'm actually studying. And in fact, I should get going if I don't want to be late. But I see Jim coming back, so you'll be able to rant as much as you want to him about how you lost all that money. And I'm sure he will be much more agreeable than me."

And on those words, she hurried out of the bar and to the lockers so she could get ready for school, hoping that her big mouth did not get her in trouble and that 50MIL would be as gracious as he was gorgeous and would not complain about her.

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

The next morning, Clary was shattered, but feeling confident. She had worked all night on a paper, sleeping for barely an hour, but she was sure that she would ace it. As soon as she arrived, Madam Dorothea gave her the list, though this time there was a little twist,

"I already prepared the top penthouse tray. He asked for an early breakfast and for you to bring it to him as soon as you got here."

Clary glanced at the clock, reading that it was five past six. "That early?"

"Yeah. Go figure. He also asked for you specifically. Do you know him?"

"I didn't even know it was a him," She pointed out, before heading to the room, a part of her curious to see what Mr OCD looked like.

When she got to the room, she knocked as usual, already brandishing her card to let herself in and put the food on the table as usual, but this time, someone opened the door. 50MIL! He smirked at her when it became obvious that she was expecting anyone but him, and gestured for her to get in.

She walked in, noticing all the work papers as usual which confirmed that indeed 50MIL worked hard for his money. There hadn't been a single time when she hadn't seen paperwork in this room. 50MIL was already in his work suit, though it was a different one than the one from yesterday.

She displayed the food as she knew he liked it and walked out of the room without saying a word. After all, she had nothing to say. Sure, he was gorgeous, and he apparently took pleasure in torturing her peace of mind by subtly letting her know that he knew exactly who she was. But he was just a guest in this hotel, and she was just a member of staff as he would put it.

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

Over the next couple of months, Clary kept her little routine, ignoring every time her body was trying to shut down, and finding comfort in seeing her savings account grow and her grades being above than average. There were even a couple of classes where she was top of her class. But still, she was starting to feel that she could have it all, after all, and that she would have to drop one of her two jobs eventually.

Though logic wanted her to stop the bar because the hotel paid more, she was tempted to do the other way around. First of all, because she enjoyed working in the bar much more than she did in the hotel, but also because of Magnus. He had become her friend, and she didn't want to stop working with him.

Of course, sometimes, she did think she would be better off not seeing her friend so often. A few days after her first encounter with 50MIL, he appeared on TV as she was prepping the bar with Magnus for the evening shift, and she scolded herself for not knowing who he was.

Jace fucking Wayland. A young tycoon who owed his billions to his diversity. As he had told her, he didn't put all his eggs in the same basket. His company covered so many different fields that she wondered how he did to keep up with all of them. Especially when it was rumoured that he was a control freak who demanded that everything was run by him.

Of course, Magnus didn't care much about his business activities, but more about the bachelor aspect of the billionaire. He started fawning when Clary explained to him the encounter she had with the man. Whilst all she saw was a plain boring conversation between a billionaire and a little someone like her, romantic Magnus was already writing their love story.

"That's how it happens in every romance novel. The powerful man everyone is scared off falls in love with the girl who stands up to him. Don't you read? Don't you watch K-drama?"

"First of all, I don't have time to entertain myself! I have a career to pursue. Second, I didn't stand up to him, I scoffed at his self-pity, and he put me back at my place the very next day by asking for me specifically to bring his room service. He didn't have to say it, but it's clear, Magnus. He's the King of the castle, and I'm the servant girl."

What Magnus didn't know was that Jace Wayland had asked for her to bring his room service every single time he was back in New York. Madam Dorothea even told Clary that he gave strict instructions to not bring anything if she was off and that he would eat out. And every time she brought him his breakfast, he would open the door with a sweet smile.

In fact, over the weeks, he even stopped doing so, trusting her to let herself in as she did before, except this time, he was in the room. His only instruction was for her to bring his food as soon as she would arrive, and no later than 6:30 am. More than once, she caught him out of the shower, seeing half-naked self only hidden by a towel, and usually, those were the times he would talk to her since the other times he was always working on his laptop, or on the phone, talking to people overseas.

The first time it happened, Clary hadn't been able to stop herself from staring, which didn't seem to escape him.

"Maybe tomorrow I should ask to have my breakfast by the pool," He teased, leaning against the wall and looking at her from head to toe once again. This was something that never failed, 50MIL liked to look at her body, and Clary could tell that he liked what he was saying.

"You do you. I don't see the difference."

"You don't, but I would. Does the hotel provide uniforms in the form of bikinis? Because that would be a sight to see."

Clary rose her eyebrow, not impressed. She had dealt with guys like that in the past. All talks, because they knew they were good looking but scared little boys when you pursued their games.

"Oh, Mr Wayland ... you can't have the cake and eat it and have the baker as well. That's not how it works. Especially when this baker and yourself don't even play in the same league."

"I think the baker wouldn't mind having a piece of the cake either."

She smirked at him, deliberately biting her lower lip in a sensual manner as she looked at his naked torso. It was obvious that he worked out, and the more she let her eyes travel down his body, the more she wished she was that kind of girl. But though she wasn't against the occasional hookups, this was her place of work, and she never messed around at work.

So she took a deep breath through her nose, briefly closing her eyes to collect herself, and she languorously walked to him, decided to play with his nerves the same way he was trying to play with hers. Once they were only inches apart and she could smell his freshly washed body, she tiptoed herself, annoyed that, even with heels, she was still a munchkin next to him, and whispered in his ear,

"You should try the cake of the day downstairs, Mr Wayland. Because it's the only one you'll get from here."

She wasn't going to lie, she enjoyed this little cat and mouse game they played. Sometimes she would get the last word, sometimes he would. And sometimes, he was just working, or she was just too tired to even play. It seemed that the rare times he had been in the mood for a tease, but she hadn't, he caught on that. On those occasions, he would actually tell her to sit down and eat with him. Well, tell ... more like ordered. He could be quite domineering sometimes.

During those two months, those little interactions would sometimes be the highlight of Clary's day. Especially when she would leave him with his mouth open, trying to find a comeback. She liked playing with fire, because she knew nothing would happen, and from what she could tell, it seemed that Jace Wayland knew just as much. They just enjoyed teasing one another, probably more excited by the thrill of it than anything else.

When she clocked in on that morning, she was already expecting Madam Dorothea to tell her to go to the top penthouse first because she knew he was still in town, but to her surprise, 50MIL had asked to be her last guest this time. She didn't think much of it, assuming that he had probably gone out last night, or that he had important calls to make early in the morning.

She knocked on his door shortly before nine, half hoping that he would be busy. She had a big test today, and she wanted to be in early so she could grab one of the front seats. When there were no answers, she let herself in, making a small victory dance in her head as she knew it meant he was busy. She just hoped that he was dressed because she didn't need to be distracted today.

She found him by the coffee table, Skyping someone, though he took the time to acknowledge her with a smile. She disposed the food on the table overseeing the City, a small smile spreading her lips as she displayed the cake by the spoon.

Though he never ordered any, she always made sure that, after their little baking conversation, there was a cake on his tray. When Madam Dorothea saw this unusual product on the tray of the most paying guest, she almost had a fit, until Clary explained that it was something that Mr Wayland had asked her personally to add. A white lie, but she never had any problems about it, and 50MIL never failed to smile when he would see it.

She was about to leave without a noise, when he stopped her, his eyes still on his screen as he was typing something, "There is something for you by the TV."

Clary checked her watch, seeing that she still had time, and went to the TV where there was a small white box, with a little card entitled with her name. She opened it and closed it straight away. Though the box did not reveal its provenance, she knew that what was inside came from Cartier. It was a bracelet from the newest Panther collection. Fifty million dollars.

No matter how normal he could sound when he would play that flirting game with her, he was anything but. Who gave a stranger bracelets so expensive? Billionaires who could lose fifty million bucks the same way she could lose a hairband.

She turned around to look at the man who was still consumed by his work. It was as if it was nothing to him, and it probably was nothing to him. The worth of that bracelet could probably pay one or two years of her law school, and there he was, giving it to her like one gives a glass of water to someone.

Without saying a word, she put the box down on the table, and finally, he tore his eyes away from his screen, looking at the box as if he had just insulted her. She opened her mouth to refuse the gift when he stopped her,

"I know how the tipping system works in this hotel. So take the bracelet and do whatever you please with it. Keep it, sell it, gift it. It's yours."

"I can't accept it. It would be inappropriate, sir."

"Don't you accept tips?"

"Yes, but —."

"No matter the amount?"

"Yes, but —."

"Then, this is my tip to you. My way to ensure that no one else gets it."

He seemed so sure of himself, not seeing how wrong it was. And so she used this loophole he was trying to turn in his advantage, in her favour,

"That's why it's inappropriate, sir. As you said, we share the tips, and it wouldn't be fair to my colleagues for me to not follow the rules. Besides, I doubt that some of my coworkers would like to wear that bracelet."

He sighed, pushing the box towards her and not taking no for an answer, "I haven't seen any other of your colleagues in this room. And sure, I may have requested to have you specifically over the past couple of months, but that's because you've always done as asked, and you don't snoop around, unlike some of your colleagues. And I won't like, I like the little personal touches you made, like giving me breakfast with a view, or making sure I have extra water when I come from a long flight, or those sweet cakes I keep getting ... The tip is for you, and you only."

She had no retort to that and no time to try and argue. So she took the box as he gave his attention back to his laptop at a small ping, and she said with a heavy heart, "Thank you, Mister Wayland. Make sure to enjoy your cake. You might not get one for a long time."

He frowned, not understanding her innuendo, but she gave him her best smile. She walked out of the lounge room, and left the box by the small table next to the door, before walking out of the room, and out of Jace Wayland's life. She didn't think he meant harm, but she could see where this sort of behaviour could lead, and she didn't have the time nor the will to get in a relationship.

Sure, she had enjoyed flirting with the man, but though she found him attractive, she never thought it would ever go further. She worked there, and he was ... Jace fucking Wayland. They were not even in the same world. And even if they were, she was not to going to sacrifice her goals for some guy.

As soon as she clocked out, she asked Madam Dorothea if she could talk to her for a minute, and when they were alone, she blurted out,

"I'm about to give you my notice."

"Oh? Why, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I just can't have it all. The school, the bar, here. I ... I'm just overwhelmed."

Madam Dorothea fondly looked at her, forgetting her strict persona for a second and making Clary feel like she had a Mom looking at her, not a boss. The older woman gave her a smile and gently squeezed her shoulder.

"I understand. You have to put yourself first. Usually, we ask a two weeks notice, but if you want to stop now, I'll say you gave it two weeks ago and I misplaced the paper."

"Thank you."

"And if you ever want to relax, or spend a nice evening with a boyfriend, come to me, I'll give you a very nice discount."

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

The same night that she had resigned from the hotel, she was working at Idris, feeling celebratory. Not only she was sure that she had aced her test, but she had this slight buzz at the idea of sleeping in the next morning. Instead of waking up at half four and running on three or four hours of sleep, she would have the luxury of waking up at half seven. Something she hadn't done in a long time.

She had tried to negotiate with Magnus to work longer at nights now that she didn't have to wake up so early, but Magnus straight up refused and she couldn't argue against him. Just a week ago, she had to rest for a bit after feeling faint and having a nose bleed that took more than twenty minutes to stop. He even threatened to cut down her hours if she didn't take care of herself better.

It was a rather quiet night, which was expected from a Tuesday night, and Clary was juggling between bartending and waitressing, all too happy to mix some cocktails all the while seeing a few of her regulars. Mary and Ann were there, all excited about seeing Cats yet again, and they were telling Clary all about how they themselves played in the musical when they were younger, when Maia, one of her coworkers, giddily came to her and told her,

"There is this hot guy who asked to be in your section. He's on table fifty."

Clary craned her neck, fully aware that her two old ladies were doing the same, interested in seeing who was the hot guy, and all her happy feelings left her when she saw 50MIL sitting at the table Maia had indicated her.

"Ooh, that should be interesting. What are you waiting for, Clary? Go get that man, and give him the time of his life," Mary said, elbowing the redhead as Ann eagerly nodded, adding with a wink,

"And make him a nice breakfast. The best way to keep a man is to keep his stomach happy and full."

Clary playfully shook her head at the two grannies. "I'm sure you would know a lot about that."

"You have no idea, my dear. This is how you turn a one night stand into a real thing. You first have the sex, and if he's good, you give him food as bait for him to stay. And then, your sweet and lovely personality will do the rest."

She couldn't help but laugh, secretly hoping that she would still have that sort of banter when she would be their age. She was about to go when Mary grabbed her arm and forced the young girl to lean so she could tell her in her ear,

"And when you're at it, do let your hair down. Men like to have something to grab onto. Believe me, I know."

Clary burst in laughter, loving the bluntness of those two old ladies and it was with her smile still plastered on her face that she walked to Jace Wayland's table. She saw how his eyes carefully watched her come closer to him, lingering more on her face than the rest of her, unlike the other times.

"How do you know I work here?" She asked, not doing a thing to hide her accusatory tone. If she didn't know any better, she would say that this was very stalker-y.

But 50MIL didn't seem phased by her tone, or her question and gave the most valid answer, "Jim is a talker."

She couldn't argue with that. Though she never watched the show, she was sure that Jim was a forgotten character of Gossip Girl. He liked to talk about everything happening in Alicante. If a senator came in with a mistress, she could be sure that Jim would tell her. If a celebrity was a guest under a pseudonym, she could be sure that Jim would tell her which celebrity it was. And if 50MIL came on the rare occasions that she was off, Jim would definitely notify Clary.

"Well, in that case, what can I get you? And just a heads up, we don't serve Dalmore 62s here. We're not that posh."

50MIL gave her his signature smirk, before glancing at the bar where Magnus was standing, looking at them as if they were a telenovela. Clary rolled her eyes looking expectantly at Jace Wayland for him to give her his order.

"Do you mix?" She nodded, all too proud of her prowess behind a bar. "Then, how about you surprise me?"

She gave him a look, happily taking his challenge and walked back to the bar, already knowing what she would make him. As she was pouring all her ingredients in the shaker, Magnus bombarded her with questions she had no answer to. She had no idea why he was there or what he wanted. Maybe he was mad about her not taking the bracelet, but she didn't feel bad at all about her gesture. Okay, maybe in a couple of months she would, but she felt good with her conscience and that was all that mattered.

"Come on, Clary. The man has been coming in New York for years and he never even once stepped foot in my establishment. And now that you quit the hotel, he's here, asking to be in your section. What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing. Isn't he allowed to go out once in a while?"

Magnus looked at her as if she had grown a third eye. "You two seemed chummy."

"Are you implying something?"

"I'm just saying, I thought we were friends, and that you would tell me if —."

"Everyone is assuming I'm screwing you, and we both know that it's not true. Don't let appearances fool you. He is nice because I drop him his room service, and I'm probably the only human contact he had outside of work when he's in New York."

"I'm telling you, he wants more 'human contacts' with you."

"Nothing new, here. But I don't have time for that. And I seriously doubt he does either."

With that, she poured the shaken drink in the appropriate glass and brought it to 50MIL before taking his food order. The rest of the night went uneventfully, though Mary and Ann kept meaningfully winking at Clary, which amused her a lot. When came time for her to clock out, she went to check on Jace who was working on his laptop, which she found odd. The hotel was barely ten minutes walk away, where he could have peace and quiet to work in silence.

"How was the food?"

"Not as good as the drink. What was it?"

"Breakfast Martini," She smirked, all too proud of herself.

Jace Wayland chuckled, and closed his laptop, indicating the chair in front of him, "Did you finish your shift?"

For a moment, she hesitated, glad that her two ladies had already left so they wouldn't be able to wiggle their eyebrows at her, but thinking of how Magnus was going to make a big deal of her simply talking to the man. They already did it in his room, this was just a public appearance between two acquaintances.

Still, she pulled the chair, rationalising that she could stay for a few minutes since she didn't have to wake up so early in the morning anymore, and 50MIL pushed his untouched dessert in her direction.

"Our desserts are just as good as our savouries."

"I just thought I'd let you enjoy the cake for once."

She shook her head, digging in the cake, mostly because she had never been good at refusing melted chocolate.

"I've heard that you left the hotel."

"Well, it's not easy juggling two jobs and school at the same time. I thought I could, but ... I obviously couldn't."

"So it has nothing to do with that bracelet you sneakily left in my room?"

"Nope. You're not that important, Mr Wayland. Well, not to my life. That decision was long sailed before that whole bracelet ordeal."

He nodded, as if assessing her, and since she was seeing him off the clock for once, she decided that she would pry as well in his life,

"So why are you here, Mr Wayland? We both know that your hotel penthouse is much more comfortable."

"Jace."

"Clary. But that doesn't change my question."

"I've always worked better in the noise. I usually spend my evenings at the bar back at Alicante, but since you only do mornings, you wouldn't know that."

"That's half an answer." She waited for him to say why he was really here, but when he just smiled at her, not saying a word, she killed the elephant in the room,

"I hope you do realise that ... this cake is not for you to eat."

"You made that pretty clear."

"Good."

"But now I am curious. Is it because of your friend who hasn't stopped looking at us since you sat down?"

As he said so, he glanced at the bar where Magnus had the decency to pretend that he was looking at the TV. Clary rolled her eyes, already anticipating tomorrow when she would come to work.

"Is it your coy way to ask if he's my boyfriend?"

"Well, it's not so coy, is it?"

Clary shook her head, and took the last bite of the cake before clarifying, "Mr Wayland ... Jace. I don't have time for a boyfriend. I just told you that I had to quit one job because it was getting too much, and you want to add the mood swings of another being in my busy life? I just want to focus on my career and succeed in what I set my mind to."

"What are you studying?"

"Law."

"Any particular reason?"

"Because there are too many injustices in this world and not enough lawyers? Because I want to help those in need? Because I'm a sadist and I like the idea of killing myself through studies to do a job most people judge as immoral? Take your pick."

Jace had a small laugh, slightly shaking his head. They kept on talking for almost an hour before Clary said that she should go because she had classes the next day, and she was sure he had a lot of work as well. They both walked out, and Jace insisted on calling her a cab, not caring the least in the world that she was used to taking the subway alone at night.

And as he closed the door of the yellow car behind her, it occurred to Clary that she had had a nice time with him, despite knowing that she would be grilled the next day by her friend and coworkers.

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

Over the next two months that followed Clary's resignation at the hotel, she struggled to stay up float with her finances. She could simply put a bit less on her saving accounts each week, but she didn't want to risk the money of her future years of school. So she budgeted what she had already budgeted, knowing that in the end, it would all be worth it.

During those two months, Jace often came to the bar, sitting in her section, working on his laptop until she would finish her shift, and talking to her for about an hour before she would go home. Each and every time, he insisted on paying a cab for her to go home, not taking no for an answer. He also proved himself to be quite sneaky when he wanted.

For instance, without her really knowing how it happened, Clary had found herself in possession of the bracelet again. The next time he had a gift for her, she paid more attention to his tactics, making sure to copy them and use them in her advantage when she would be a lawyer on her own. It happened a couple of more times, and each time, he wove his way into her reason, giving her no choice but to gratefully accept it.

Of course, Jace's frequent visits did not go unnoticed by Magnus, nor her couple of old ladies. Mary and Ann always gave Clary the knowing eye when they would see Jace walk in the bar and go straight to the table he seemed to have assigned to himself. More than once, they would ask Clary if she had made the man breakfast yet and if this was the reason why he kept coming back for more, which always made Clary smile.

She didn't have many qualities as a homemaker, but she knew that if she made Jace Wayland breakfast, he would sequestrate her to keep her as his personal cook. This was the one thing people had told her again and again over the years, she knew her way around a stove and an oven. Years of food deprivation made her very conscious of food and how good it could be if mixed properly.

Magnus, on the other hand, was determined to put in her head that Jace was interested in more than her company.

"He has that look, Clary. He wants in your pants," Magnus argued as they were cutting limes in preparation for mojitos. Clary rolled her eyes, sighing,

"That ship has already been sailed, Magnus. He knows I'm not interested in relationships at the moment. I'm focused on my studies. I just appreciate having a nice conversation once in a while with a man who obviously finds me attractive."

In all honesty, when she told Jace for a second time that she was not interested in a relationship with him that would be anything more than platonic, he actually agreed with her.

"So, you'd say you're solely focused on your studies and upcoming career."

She nodded, glad that she didn't have to spell it out for him to understand. Jace sat more comfortably in his chair, smiling with approval as he explained,

"I can live with that. As you know, I, myself, am a career-driven man. I don't have time for the drama of a relationship. But I won't lie and pretend that I mind having a nice conversation with a beautiful woman with more than half a brain, from time to time."

Still, it seemed that this concept was something that escaped Magnus, which Clary found odd. The two of them were friends, despite the fact that he was a man, and so she asked him about it,

"Why does it bother you so much, Magnus? I mean, even if I did get him in my bed, he wouldn't be my first one, and he certainly wouldn't be my last."

"I ... I've seen it so many times, Clary. A rich guy comes to the bar, flashes his million dollars smile to a cute waitress and she falls head over heels for him, only to learn a couple of months later that he's married, or has a girlfriend in another State, or just using her as a conquest, or some other shit like that. I like you, I don't want to see you get hurt by that kind of an asshole."

"Magnus ..." She didn't know what to say.

She never had anyone lookout for her, that was always her job and her job alone. The only person who cared for her had been Izzy, during that brief period of time they had been together. But now, Magnus was looking out for her, trying to avoid her getting hurt, and all she could think of, was, if she had a big brother, she wished he were Magnus. She hugged him, short of words, and even though she knew it certainly did not help her reputation amongst her coworkers, she relished in the embrace he gave back to her.

"Don't worry, even if he gets in my bed, it would be a one-time thing, because, well, let's be honest, he's hot."

"That's an understatement."

They laughed together under the judging eyes of the staff. It was Monday morning, which was a rather slow day, and on Mondays when she finished earlier. She couldn't wait to clock out and go home, mostly anticipating the cold half hour she was bound to face when she would leave. It was shortly before Christmas, and when everyone was marvelling at the snow, all Clary could do was pray that it wouldn't get too much, or she would have to walk home.

She was lost in her plannings on avoiding the cold as much as she could when someone leaned over the counter and ordered a drink. She shook her head, coming back to the reality of the moment and smiling at the customer. She wasn't often alone behind the bar, but the other bartender was running late because of the snow.

Jace was looking at her expectantly, apparently waiting for an answer or an action of her part, and she gave him an apologetic smile, "Sorry, I was elsewhere. You were saying?"

"I'm just going to have a drink, tonight. I'll let you choose."

She frowned as he sat on one of the stools, instead of going to his usual table. She started mixing a Hemingway as she watched him retrieve his phone, and she inquired with a bit of play in her voice,

"Did you lose another fifty million dollars? Did that cut your appetite?"

"Haha. No. In fact, I'm famished. But I have other plans for tonight. You do finish earlier today, don't you?"

"It's Monday."

"I'd like to take you somewhere when your shift is over if you don't mind."

Clary paused, not sure at all about that. It was one thing talking to him in a place that she knew and where she knew she could rely on someone, but it was an entirely other thing to follow him God knew where.

"What's wrong with the routine we have?"

"Well ... I'd like to change that routine. But I'd rather discuss it someplace else ..."

❌PLEASE DO NOT COPY, DOWNLOAD OR SHARE THIS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE❌

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

💚Your thoughts and opinions are always welcomed💚

💚 Cassandra Clare owns the names of the characters from the Mortal Instruments franchise, everything else is mine.

Love, Mina💚💚💚