“Get the fuck out of my dining room.”
For a long second, nobody moves.
Then Varek straightens his cuff.
He looks around at the staring customers. The phones already half-raised.
His smile comes back. Smaller. Colder.
“Lovely meeting you, Ms. Fierson,” he says. “We’ll speak again.”
The door swings shut behind Varek Glimner with a cheerful little chime like it’s mocking me.
For half a second, nobody in the restaurant breathes.
Then the sound comes roaring back like someone hit unmute on the world.
Forks clink. A baby starts crying. Somebody laughs too loudly. The flat-top pops. The fryer hisses.
Mara’s already at my side.
“Jesus Christ, Kim,” she says under her breath. “Do you have a death wish?”
I don’t look at her.
My eyes are still on the door.
“He’s bluffing,” I say, even though my stomach feels like I just swallowed a live wire.
Ishaan sticks his head out of the kitchen, spatula in hand.
“Who was Suit Guy?” he asks. “Because my soul just left my body for a minute.”
“Mob,” Mara says flatly.
I finally turn.
“Okay,” I say. “Nobody freaks out. Nobody says anything to customers. We finish service. We do our jobs. We act like nothing just happened.”
Mara stares at me.
“Kim.”
“Mara.”
“He just threatened you.”
“Yeah,” I snap. “And I just threatened his ego. We’re even.”
She folds her arms.
“You know that’s bullshit.”
I lean in close so only she can hear me.
“I know exactly what he is,” I say quietly. “And I know exactly what he wants. And I am not handing my parents’ restaurant over to the Nine like a wrapped present with a fucking bow on it.”
Her jaw tightens.
