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Leah leaves the table. As she turns, though, she bumps into the maid. I get out of my seat and try to catch her as she wobbles, but I’m too late. She falls to the floor. The glass of water from the maid’s tray falls and shatters to pieces right beside her.
Fuck.
The maid gasps. I grab her arm as my temper flares.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” she speaks softly.
My chest tightens. “Do you realize what you could have done? What if that glass had fallen on Leah?”
She looks up at me. Her lips tremble and her eyes look on the brink of tears. I don’t care.
“I was under the impression everyone working here was well-trained, competent and highly recommended. I don’t know how you convinced Ms. Jensen you belong here, but clearly- ”
“That’s enough,” Leah cuts me off.
She stands between me and the maid. Her gaze holds mine.
“I’m fine. And this was not Giselle’s fault. It was mine. I was the one who bumped into her.”
“You wouldn’t have bumped into her if she had gotten out of your way,” I point out.
“She didn’t have time to.”
“She should have acted faster.”
“Well, excuse us all for just being human,” Leah snaps at me. Afterwards, she draws a deep breath. “So she was a split second late. So what? Don’t tell me you’re going to fire her because of that.”
“I’ve fired people for less,” I answer. “Everyone who knows me knows I don’t tolerate failure.”
She shakes her head. “A mistake isn’t a failure.”
“It is.”
“Is that how you were made to think?”
The look in her eyes softens. The anger is gone now. There’s just disappointment. Sadness. Pity?
Why on earth would she feel sorry for me?
I lift my chin. “You are forgetting that this is my apartment. You are simply a guest here. You have no say- ”
“A guest?” Leah snorts. “How kind of you to put it that way.”
My jaw clenches. “Regardless, I make the decisions regarding the staff.”
“Because you think you own us all?”
“Yes!” I shout back at her.
Leah falls silent. The daggers in her eyes speak volumes, though. I return the glare as my hands clench into fists at my sides. I can feel the tension in my chin and in my shoulders. My chest constricts.
I’m not one to lose my temper easily, but she’s done it. She’s pushed it to the edge.
Why does she have to be so difficult? Doesn’t she realize that I’m trying to protect her, that I’m doing this for her own good? Why does she keep fighting me when she should know that she has no power here? Didn’t I make her realize that last night?
I should punish her for her insolence.
I open my mouth to say something, but then my phone rings. I retreat towards the window to answer the call.
“Scotsfeld.”
“Mr. Scotsfeld, your presence is requested this afternoon at the Olympus Hotel.”
The one owned by Elias Grey, which means it’s a meeting concerning Ambrosia.
“Just me?” I ask.
“No, but it is important that you come just the same.”
And it must be regarding an important matter or Elias wouldn’t call a meeting in the middle of the day, even if it is a Saturday. And on such short notice at that. It’s practically an emergency. Plus it’s at his hotel, not at the Club, which means that this one is strictly business.
“I’ll be there,” I say.
The call ends. I turn to Leah, who’s kneeling on the floor with the maid, who’s sobbing softly. Both of them are cleaning up the mess. When she realizes I’m done with my call, she stands up. She meets my gaze as she squares her shoulders.
I glance at the maid. “You, get out.”
She flinches at my command. Leah gapes.
“Gavin, that’s- ”
“We’ll continue this later,” I tell her.
I turn on my heel and walk out of the room, ignoring the sobs growing louder behind me and Leah’s gaze piercing my back. I’ll deal with her later.
For now, I have to find out what’s going on at Ambrosia.
~
I tap my fingers on the white linen covering the table as I wait for the meeting to start. The function room is already nearly full, with just a few seats left to be occupied, including the one next to mine. Murmurs of speculation saturate the air.
I pick up my glass of wine and let some of the liquid cascade down my throat. On the outside, I know I appear calm, uninterested, but the wheels in my head are turning and my curiosity is growing with each passing second.
What is it that Elias can’t wait to tell us?
“You don’t think he’s resigning, do you?”
I hear the question as I set down my glass. I turn my head and find a man about my age pulling out the chair beside me. He sits down on it and flashes a smile.
