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Leo rises from the table, neatly folding and setting aside his cloth napkin. His fingers twitch. “I'll be right back,” he promises.
I'm left alone at the table, mildly confused, but at least I have some delicious food to distract me. This place is fancy with a capital F. A crystal chandelier hangs over the main lobby. I'm pretty sure the floors are made from polished marble. Everything from the glassware to the plates to the waiters' uniforms screamsexpensive.
I'll confess I felt embarrassed to walk in here dressed the way I am, but Leo was so confident—so sure—that I seem to have absorbed some of his gusto. I feel safe with him. Able to be myself without a hint of insecurity. But now that he's left the table… I suddenly feel naked.
It seems I've earned myself a couple of snarky side-eyes from the next table over, where a gaggle of older ladies, dressed in fur coats, their ears sparkling with diamonds, sit. I squirm in my seat. I know I'm dressed casually, but I'm not a slob. Except, the longer they glare at me, the more I begin to realize it's not what I'm wearing that they've taken issue with.
It's my lack of wealth.
They sneer down their noses at me. I feel like a cockroach they want nothing more than to stamp out. Their message, though wordless, is loud and clear: I don't belong in their world.
“Bratva whore.”
I glance up, startled when the maître’ d passes by. “What did you just say?”
He stops, his lip curling up into a sneer. “We don't appreciate your kind here.”
Confusion washes over me, cold and vicious. “What on Earth are you talking about?”
“You think you're protected because you're with him? Do yourself a favor and walk away before it's too late. Anyone who gets involved with those assholes ends up with the short stick.”
“What—”
“Enough,” Leo's low, commanding voice breaks through. It's the first time I've ever seen him truly angry. It's a cold, quiet kind of anger—and I think that's what I find so intimidating. There's a storm brewing inside, held back by a thin sliver of control. “What's your name, boy?”
The maître’ d gulps, no longer brave now that Leo has returned. “Alix.”
“Well, Alix—you're fired.”
My jaw drops. The maître’ d looks equally stunned.
“You've got to be joking.”
Leo takes a seat at the table, indifferent. Like this is any other Monday evening to him. “I just spoke with the owner of this fine establishment. He sold it to me for a very reasonable price.”
“You can't do this.”
“I just did.”
“You have no reason!”
Leo's eye slides over to me, hard and impossible to read. I wish I knew what he was thinking, but I'm too stunned to even consider figuring it out. “What did you say to her?”
“N-nothing.”
“You've upset her. Clearly you said something.”
“That's not true at all!”
“Nikita?” Leo says my name so sweetly, so kindly it almost gives me whiplash. It makes me feel strangely warm. Special. I like this softer side of him. I want it all to myself.
I lick my lips. “He said… He said he doesn't appreciate our kind here.” It's a half truth, only a fraction of what was truly said. If Leo learns the man here called me a whore…
“Get out,” Leo tells Alix. “Immediately. I have no use for disrespectful employees.”
Flustered and shaking, the man leaves. People at other tables are quick to look away, no longer brazen enough to even look in our direction.
My heart hammers loudly in my chest. “Did you really buy this restaurant? I thought you owned taxis.”
