He couldn’t hear a response from St. John or Dizzie, but whatever they said made Mrs. Solveig change her tack. “Please, Dizzie, come home with us. You’ll have everything you ever wanted. A chance for a new life.”
Aleks shouldered his way past the last of the onlookers and studied the tableau before him. His stomach sank. It was worse than he had imagined.
The waitstaff and maître d’ had obviously tried to stop the confrontation and protect them from prying eyes, but there were too few of them to do much good. They formed a loose semi-circle between the rest of the diners and the Solveigs and the St. Johns. It was a valiant attempt, but in vain.
Mrs. Solveig had one hand on the dinner table and was leaning as far over it as she could. Her other hand was stretched out beseechingly toward Dizzie. Mr. Solveig stood at her side, his hand resting on her shoulder.
Aleks had no idea if he was urging her on or trying to talk her down.
Talk about useless.
At the table, wine slowly seeped out of an overturned wine glass, turning the white cloth red. Place settings were jumbled up and the centerpiece was askew. What the hell had happened?
Dizzie stood defiantly on the other side of the table. Hands on her hips, she looked ready to lunge over the table at any movement. “No. I don’t know you. Why would I want to come with you? This is my home.”
St. John stood behind Dizzie, one hand resting possessively on her lower back, letting her fight her own battles. His expression was strained and Aleks was sure that it was taking all his control to not step in. Would he snap? And what would that mean for Aleks’s employers?
A few members of the Solveigs’ security team had joined them for dinner. Mrs. Solveig had insisted, citing potential harm from Tremaine-backed plots. But right now, their security was the only threat Aleks saw.
Fucking perfect.
He stepped closer to the standoff, ready to intervene when it made sense. There was nothing he could do until the situation worsened. Any sooner and the Solveigs would not thank him for his assistance.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Oh no. Nonononono.
Of all the worst possible times for Portia to return to the table.
Phones and cameras turned in Portia’s direction. Her lips pressed together for a moment, the only outward sign of her discomfort.
Mrs. Solveig whirled away from Dizzie. “You! This is all your fault!”
Hands on her hips, Portia glared at the other woman. “Are you okay?” She looked past Mrs. Solveig, obviously speaking to St. John and Dizzie.
“Fine,” Dizzie said through clenched teeth. “It would be nice if she would go away, though, so we can get back to our dinner.”
Mrs. Solveig spun around again. “Her? You’re having dinner with her, but you won’t have dinner with me? Your grandmother? Your own flesh and blood?”
“Iduna, please. People are watching.” Mr. Solveig finally spoke. To Aleks’s mind, it was too little and far too late.
Mrs. Solveig had doubled down and the crowd was clearly invested as well. There was no possible way this was going to end well.
St. John, his arm now wrapped protectively around Dizzie’s shoulders, spoke for the first time. “She isn’t going to change her mind. Dizzie’s stubborn. She takes after her sister that way.”
Oh fuck.However much St. John had intended to help, he’d chosen the wrong way.
“You did this! You’re the reason I don’t have my granddaughter! This is all your fault!” Hand upraised, Mrs. Solveig lunged for Portia.
Moving without thought, Aleks stepped between Portia and the other woman. He caught Mrs. Solveig’s hand before it made contact.
“How dare you?” She turned her ire on him.
“There are cameras,” he hissed. “It’s highly likely someone is posting this live right now.”
Mr. Solveig stepped up behind her. Brow furrowed, his eyes somber, he nodded and Aleks released her arm. Mr. Solveig laced his fingers with hers and tugged her back a few steps.
Aleks didn’t move. He wouldn’t move until the threat to Portia had left the room.
