Chapter 2 - The Price of Glass
Gavin’s voice cracked like a whip across the silent dining room. He shoved his phone into his pocket and stormed toward the corner booth, his face flushed with the kind of rage he reserved exclusively for the people he considered beneath him.
“What in the hell happened?” Gavin demanded, his polished shoes crunching over the shards of the crystal pitcher.
The little girl flinched, shrinking back against the leather upholstery. Her dark eyes were wide with terror, her small hands coming up to cover her ears. She tried to sign something, her fingers moving in frantic, jerky motions, but Gavin didn’t care.
He reached out, his hand wrapping roughly around the child’s thin wrist. “Do you have any idea how much this crystal costs? Where are your parents, you little—”
“Let her go.”
The words left Cassidy’s mouth before her brain could catch up with the reality of what she was doing. She stepped directly between her manager and the trembling child, using her own body as a shield.
Gavin froze, his fingers still clamped around the girl’s velvet sleeve. He looked at Cassidy as if she had just grown a second head. “Excuse me, Tate? You dropped a two-hundred-dollar tray ten minutes ago. Do not push your luck.”
“She’s a child, Gavin. She made a mistake.” Cassidy’s heart hammered against her ribs, a violent, desperate rhythm. She could already see the eviction notice being taped to her apartment door. She could hear the dial tone of the clinic’s billing department. But as she felt the girl’s small, icy fingers grip the fabric of her apron, Cassidy stood her ground. “Take it out of my paycheck.”
Gavin laughed, a cruel, sharp sound. “You don’t have enough in your paycheck to cover the water in that pitcher. Now step aside.”
He yanked the girl’s arm. The child let out a silent, breathless gasp, her coloring book spilling to the floor. A blue colored pencil snapped perfectly in half beneath Gavin’s shoe.
Cassidy reached out and shoved Gavin’s shoulder. Hard.
The manager stumbled back, shock wiping the arrogance from his face. The dining room of the Gilded Spoon had gone entirely still. The politicians had stopped chewing. The corporate attorneys had lowered their wine glasses.
“You’re fired,” Gavin spat, his face turning a mottled red. “You are done in this city, Tate. You’ll be scrubbing toilets in a diner by—”
“Touch my daughter again,” a low, impossibly calm voice echoed from the shadows of the hallway, “and you won’t have hands left to point with.”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
Dominic Valente stepped into the light. He wasn't running. He didn't raise his voice. He moved with the terrifying, unhurried grace of an apex predator that had already trapped its meal.
Gavin’s face drained of color. He recognized the man. The staff had been told ‘Mr. Davis’ was important, but Gavin suddenly realized he was standing in the presence of someone who didn't just have money—he had power.
“Sir, I apologize,” Gavin stammered, backing away. “The waitress—she was out of line. The child made a mess, and I was simply—”
Dominic didn’t look at Gavin. He looked at Cassidy. His dark eyes swept over her cheap, worn shoes, the defensive posture of her shoulders, and the way she was still firmly positioned in front of his little girl.
“Mia,” Dominic said softly.
The girl peeked out from behind Cassidy’s apron. She signed a quick, fluid motion. Scared.
“I know, piccola,” Dominic signed back. He stepped forward and gently untangled Mia from Cassidy’s apron, lifting the child into his arms. He kissed her forehead. Then, he turned his dead, flat gaze back to Gavin. “You grabbed her.”
“Sir, it was a misunderstanding—”
Dominic didn't raise a hand. He didn't have to. He simply looked toward the front entrance of the restaurant, expecting his security man to step forward and handle the manager.
But the entrance was empty.
The man in the unbuttoned jacket, the one who was supposed to be watching the door, was gone.
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Cassidy saw the exact moment the billionaire’s demeanor shifted. The dangerous calm fractured into something entirely lethal. Dominic’s eyes darted to the heavy brass lock on the restaurant’s front doors. It had been turned from the outside.
“Get down!” Dominic roared, tackling Cassidy and Mia to the floor just as the front windows of the Gilded Spoon exploded inward.
