Chapter 1 - TWO WEEKS
“Two weeks,” Adrien repeated.
Lena stared at him, still unsure whether she had heard correctly.
“You have two weeks to prove this was an isolated failure,” he said. “You will arrive on time. You will follow every rule. You will not sit in Booth Seven again.”
Relief hit her so hard her knees nearly gave out.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I won’t disappoint you.”
Adrien’s gaze dropped briefly to the hand that had touched him.
“You already have.”
The words should have sounded cruel.
Instead, they sounded like a warning meant for himself.
He turned toward his guards.
“Marco, make sure Miss Reyes gets home safely.”
Lena shook her head. “That isn’t necessary.”
Adrien looked back at her.
“It was not a question.”
Twenty minutes later, Lena sat in the back of a black sedan that cost more than every apartment on her block combined.
Marco drove without speaking. The city passed in blurred ribbons of white and red outside the windows.
When they reached her building, Lena thanked him and hurried upstairs.
She did not notice the second black car parked across the street.
She did not see Adrien sitting inside it.
He watched until the light in her third-floor apartment turned on.
Only then did he leave.
The next morning, Lena woke to six missed calls from Rush University Medical Center.
Her heart nearly stopped.
She called immediately.
“Miss Reyes,” the hospital administrator said, “your grandmother’s surgery has been approved for Friday.”
Lena sat upright.
“That’s impossible. I still haven’t paid the deposit.”
“The deposit was covered.”
“By whom?”
There was a pause.
“The donor requested anonymity.”
Lena thought of Adrien.
Then she rejected the idea.
He had looked her directly in the eyes and said her grandmother was not his concern.
Men like Adrien Varelli did not secretly rescue exhausted waitresses.
At Lavelle that evening, Lena worked harder than she ever had.
She polished glasses until they shone. She memorized every order. She carried heavy trays while pain burned through her feet.
At midnight, the restaurant manager, Celeste Marrow, cornered her near the kitchen.
Celeste was elegant, sharp-faced, and always dressed as if she were attending a funeral for someone she disliked.
“I heard about Booth Seven,” she said.
Lena lowered her eyes. “I made a mistake.”
“You touched Mr. Varelli.”
Lena went still.
“I panicked.”
Celeste stepped closer.
“Women have been fired for looking at him too long.”
“I wasn’t trying to—”
“Whatever you think happened, it meant nothing.”
Lena looked up.
Celeste’s expression was calm, but jealousy tightened every word.
“Mr. Varelli does not care about people like you,” she continued. “You are temporary. Disposable. Do your job and stay invisible.”
Before Lena could answer, the kitchen doors opened.
Adrien entered.
Every conversation stopped.
His eyes found Lena immediately.
Then they shifted to Celeste.
“Is there a problem?”
“No,” Celeste said smoothly. “I was reminding Miss Reyes of restaurant policy.”
“I will handle Miss Reyes.”
The possessiveness in his tone startled everyone, including him.
Celeste’s face tightened.
Adrien looked at Lena.
“My booth. Now.”
Whispers followed her across the dining room.
Adrien sat in Booth Seven while Lena stood across from him.
“You paid for my grandmother’s surgery,” she said.
It was not a question.
Adrien opened the menu.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The hospital said an anonymous donor paid the deposit the morning after you fired me.”
“I did not fire you.”
“You almost did.”
“That distinction matters.”
Lena leaned closer.
“Was it you?”
Adrien’s jaw tightened.
“You are here to take my order, Miss Reyes.”
She studied him.
For a man who terrified half of Chicago, he was not a convincing liar.
“What would you like?”
“Coffee.”
“It’s one in the morning.”
“I’m aware.”
She turned to leave.
“Lena.”
It was the first time he had used her first name.
She looked back.
Adrien’s eyes were on the faint purple bruise around her wrist.
“Who did that?”
She quickly pulled down her sleeve.
“It’s nothing.”
His voice became dangerously soft.
“I did not ask what it was.”
Lena hesitated.
“My landlord. I’m behind on rent. He grabbed me when I asked for more time.”
Adrien placed the menu down.
The restaurant suddenly felt colder.
“What is his name?”
“No.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“No?”
“I’m not giving you his name.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know what you’ll do.”
Adrien stared at the bruise.
“That makes one of us.”
Lena stepped closer.
“Promise me you won’t hurt him.”
He looked up at her.
“I do not make promises I have no intention of keeping.”
Her breath caught.
Adrien reached toward her wrist, then stopped before touching her.
His fingers remained suspended less than an inch from her skin.
For the first time, Lena realized he was afraid.
Not of her.
Of contact.
Slowly, she turned her hand palm-up.
“You can,” she whispered.
Adrien’s eyes locked onto hers.
Then, with the caution of a man approaching an unexploded bomb, he placed two fingers against her palm.
The noise inside his mind disappeared.
His breathing slowed.
His shoulders lowered.
May you like
Across the dining room, Celeste watched them.
And beneath the folded napkin in her hand, her fingernails dug hard enough to draw blood.
