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Mark thought back to seeing her for the first time in the subway. “I’ve never seen anyone feel music so deeply as she does.” He chuckled. “Hell, she helped me find some perspective with that modern piece.”
Sam’s eyes turned amused. “Really?”
Mark nodded. “She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever met.”
“Then stop worrying about why and go for it.”
“I can’t. She...” He sighed. “She won’t open up to me. She’s a waitress but I have no idea where she works. She won’t tell me anything about herself.”
“Well, if she ran away like you think she did, maybe she’s trying to hide from something. Or someone. People don’t run away for no reason.” Sam chewed his lip. “If she ran away from a dream position at Juilliard—with her talent...” He shook his head. “It must have been horrible.”
“I hadn’t thought about that.” He thought for a moment. “Do you know of any abusive and possessive restaurant owners in the city?”
Sam laughed but stopped when Mark didn’t laugh along. “Oh, you’re serious?”
“Her boss called when we were at my house...” Mark growled. “He was yelling at her and she got scared and left right after.”
Sam scrunched his face, looking thoughtful. “There are several chefs with that sort of reputation, but as far as owners? The worst is Café Milan.”
Mark leaned back in his chair. “Shit.” He knew that restaurant. Well, knew of it. Everyone did. He’d eaten there once, several years ago, and the place had given him the creeps. Was it possible that Emily worked there?
Tourists wandered by outside the coffee shop window. What kind of woman worked at a place like that? The waitresses were little better than prostitutes, and there were even worse rumors of what went on behind the scenes. Of what they called “special orders.” Men could buy girls from the owner. Girls. Not just women.
Mark swallowed back vomit and closed his eyes, shaking his head. He opened his eyes. “Sam?”
“What?”
“Can you find out if Emily works there?”
“You think it’s possible?”
“Her boss is an ass and...” He sighed. “I think she’s sleeping with him.”
Sam arched a brow. “Oh?”
Mark looked out the window again. “I don’t think she’s doing it by choice...” Emily wasn’t excited to go home and meet with her boss. She was scared.
How had she gotten mixed up in a place like that?
“I’ll ask around and see what I can find out.”
“Discreetly, please? I don’t want her to get into trouble.”
“Of course.”
“Thanks.”
Twenty-Seven
Emily blewa curl out of her face as she weaved around tables, carrying dinner plates to the quiet couple in the corner. The son of a senator, he and his fiancé had the honor of being seated in Section One, but Emily had no sexual obligations to them. None of her tables tonight had been more than normal waitressing and she was thankful. It had been a long week and she wanted to go home without obligations and get a good night’s sleep.
She dropped off the food and checked on her other table, a couple of businessmen out with a lobbyist and his wife. As she headed to the computer to print a bill, she noticed David sitting at the bar, sipping what appeared to be cognac. He caught her gaze in the mirror and turned to smile at her.
“How are you tonight, Mr. Powell?” she asked with a friendly smile.
He grinned. “Much better now that you’ve finally noticed me.” His eyes glinted with amusement and she didn’t think he was upset, but her stomach still churned the tiniest bit. “When are you off?”
She glanced over her shoulder at her tables. “I have two tables. It’ll be a while.” She bit her lip, wondering if he’d be upset.
