She knew better than to get comfortable. Even the nice vampires could get her into trouble.
Feeling Devon’s furious gaze on her, she carefully answered, “I… have no knowledge on the subject, sir. I’m just a server.”
Mr. Bowan knocked the ash from his cigar onto the table, deliberately ignoring the ashtray only a few inches away. “How long have you been a server here?”
“Five years, sir.”
“And how long have you lived in this city?”
“Ten years, sir.”
“Ten years in the capital and five years working for vampires,” he mused. “I’m impressed you lasted so long here. Shows grit. I bet you’ve got more than enough knowledge to atleast have an opinion. So tell me honestly, Miss McKnight: do you think it’s wise to move syndicate business into the EVP?”
Her stomach curdled. It was lucky she didn’t have time to eat any breakfast before she started her shift. If she had, she probably would’ve thrown it up on Mr. Bowan’s extremely expensive shoes.
“I…” Dahlia gripped her tray hard, fighting the urge to run. She was always so careful not to offend, not to over-step. How had she ended up stuck between two predators, being used as a tool to humiliate her boss?
Devon’s going to kill me,she thought, shifting in her heels. A weak man was never more dangerous than when he’d been embarrassed.
As if reading her mind, Mr. Bowan held her stare and calmly assured her, “Don’t worry about the whelp. I’m the wolf in the room, not him. So answer me, Miss McKnight.”
Resignation crept over her in a slow, dreadful wave. Letting out a breath, she answered, “I… I think that the elves pay more attention than it seems. They know they can’t stamp out crime altogether, so they allow what’s useful to them. But they would never allow any organization to take actual power. They’re so few of them. They can’t risk it. If there was even a hint that the— the syndicate was actually building something here, they’d crush it.”
Mr. Bowan’s dark eyes gleamed through a cloud of cigar smoke. “So what would you suggest?”
“Suggest, sir?”
“Let’s say I was foolish enough to want to expand my business here. How would you suggest I do so?”
He was toying with her. Or rather, with Devon, who looked like he was a few seconds from popping a blood vessel somewhere in his soft little brain.
Not answering wasn’t an option. Mr. Bowan was right. He was the bigger predator in the room. And either way, she was screwed.
Tensing, she said, “If youreallywanted to, you’d have to work within their rules. Elves care about appearances. If you stayed in the bounds of legitimacy — publicly, at least — it would be a lot harder for them to fight you. It’d have to be splashy and loud and come with a lot of charity work, but it could be done. The Solbournes are all about cooperation and tolerance these days. If you’re bringing legitimate business to the territory, what can they do? Sometimes being a bigger target makes you harder to hit.”
For the first time since the old vampire arrived, a smile curved the corners of his hard mouth. “And he’s got you serving drinks.”
“Dahlia, come here,” Devon growled.
“She’s going to stay where she is.”
The hair on the back of her neck prickled when Devon lurched out of his seat. His face was flushed, his eyes glazed. She’d seen that look before.
“You can’t tell me what to do withmyemployee inmybar,” he snarled. All the tendons stood out on his neck. “She belongs to me.”
Dahlia edged back a step, her pulse hammering, but stopped when Mr. Bowan gestured for her to stay still. “Don’t worry about him, Miss McKnight. You’re safe.”
She cast a quick look around the room. None of the other servers would meet her eye as they pressed themselves into corners, making themselves smaller. All around them, Mr. Bowan’s security was on alert, their stony gazes fixed on Devon, whose own men didn’t seem terribly interested in what was happening.
I’m definitely not safe.
But before things could escalate further, one of Mr. Bowan’s men announced, “Sir, Yvanna just arrived.”
“You’re very lucky, boy,” the old vampire sighed. “If she’d been any later, I would’ve shot you.” He raised his eyebrows at Dahlia. “Or let you do it, Miss McKnight. Nowthatwould be fun to see. Smart girls always have a vicious streak.”
Devon sputtered. “You can’tthreaten?—”
Mr. Bowan’s fangs gleamed in the low light when his lip curled. “I can do whatever the fuck I want. You’re nothing. Your bar is nothing. Your family is nothing. The only reason I deigned to step foot in your shitty establishment is because it’s neutral territory. So do yourself a favor and shut thefuckup so the grownups can do what they came here for.”
