The kitchen was a bustling mess.
Deedee saw us and rushed over with two server aprons.
“Thank you both for being on time.” She launched into the explanation of our duties. She handed me the apron, I tied the straps at the small of my back and adjusted it until it fit perfectly.
It was much of the same work we’d been doing. Ensuring all guests had their glasses full and serving hors d’oeuvres.
Deedee stepped back and clapped her hands. Three other waiters came to stand with us.
“There are a lot of high rollers in there. Please, act accordingly,” she called.
Each time we’ve been told about ‘high rollers,’ ninety-seven percent of the people in there were snobs who liked to snap their fingers at us.
It didn’t bother me. They could think what they wanted.
I took the tray and lifted it. Verity picked up the bottle with a cloth around the neck and held it cradled with her other hand.
“You two work the left side,” Deedee said, pointing two scissored fingers at me and Verity.
I rounded to follow Verity as she strode away. She backed into the door, pushing open the latch with her hips, falling into a choreographed step. I kept pace with her as we worked the first round of tables.
We easily went around and poured or, in my case, squatted to offer the bacon-wrapped scallops.
Then Verity went and broke the number one rule; she spilled wine on a guest.
“Imbecile,” the woman shouted and burst to her feet.
“I am so sorry,” Verity gasped, using her cloth to try and dab the blond woman who kept swatting her away. “I swear, I’ll buy you a replacement?—”
“You worthless girl, get your hands off me.”
“That’s too far—” I cut off. Elain Wilder, Lucian’s mother, stood before me. Her mouth puckered, and she looked down her nose at me. Her eyes raked down my uniform, clear derision in her gaze.
“I knew thisperson,” she spat. “Looks familiar.” Her gaze returned to Verity.
“You won’t be able to afford the dry cleaning, much less purchasing a replacement. Call a manager over.” She waved her hand in the air, dismissing us.
“Enough,” I snapped, putting force into the word. Verity’s wide eyes flung to me, and she shook her head slightly. The rest of the people sitting around the table had their gazes glued on me, eyebrows raised. I stepped forward until I was closer to Elain. “If you’ll speak to me outside, I’m sure we can come to an understanding.”
She scoffed, head jerking back.
“Why would I waste my time?—”
“Elain,” I shouted. She clamped her lips together. “I’m happy to give your son, my husband, a call.”
Gasps came from around the table, but I didn’t bother looking at them, only raised an eyebrow.
Elain’s expression stiffened. I motioned toward the exit across the empty dance floor. After a brief pause, she stiffly walked in front of me.
Verity slow-clapped, gawking.
I kept myself an arm’s distance behind Elain until we stepped out into the cold air.
“Let’s speak over here, you’ve already embarrassed me by announcing you’re with my son,” she gritted out. She hurrieddown the steps and headed to the left of the building, near the entrance where Verity and I had come in.
“Absolutely ridiculous. Lucian inherited his father’s poor taste in women,” she spat.
The corners of my lips lifted, and I said, “Hate to break it to you, but Alex’s fated was the woman in there.”
