His smile tightens.
“You’re being emotional.”
“Damn right I am.”
I straighten and raise my voice so the whole dining room can hear.
“Hey, everybody! This man in the fancy suit is here to ask me to launder dirty money through your lunch orders. Anybody cool with that?”
A woman at table four gasps.
Some guy actually applauds once before realizing that’s probably a bad idea.
Varek’s jaw flexes.
“Kimberly,” he says quietly.
I cut him off.
“Nope. You don’t get my first name. You don’t get my time. You don’t get my goddamn registers.”
I jab a finger at his chest.
“And you don’t get to act like you’re doing me a favor.”
The silence in the room is thick enough to chew.
Varek exhales through his nose. Slow. Controlled.
“Independence is expensive on Novaria,” he says gently. “Suppliers. Inspectors. Permits. All very… fragile things.”
There it is.
The threat, finally taking its mask off.
My hands shake.
Not with fear.
With rage.
I step around the counter. Mara starts to say my name.
“Kim—”
I hold up a hand without looking at her.
I stop two feet in front of Varek.
“Let me make something clear to you,” I say, low and lethal. “You don’t own this neighborhood. You don’t own my staff. You don’t own my life. And you sure as hell don’t own my restaurant.”
He tilts his head.
“You’re making a mistake.”
I smile.
Wide. Sharp. Unfriendly.
