Instead, he released a quiet sigh as his fingers drummed slightly against the edge of the table, as though considering how much truth to offer.
“Alright, I will be honest with you, whether your campaign impressed me or not was irrelevant,” he said at last, and my stomach dipped.
“The outcome was inevitable,” he continued calmly, yet I was anything but.
“Inevitable?” I repeated, trying to keep the edge of unease from creeping into my voice.
“That sounds very… predetermined and quite contradictory to your earlier comment,” I pointed out.
“You entered my club, Eliza… you saw things you were not meant to see.”
I swallowed hard as my fingers tightened around my coffee cup.
“Then, you vanished,” he added, watching me closely.
“You should not have been able to do that.” A flicker of something moved through his gaze, no longer playful. Like someone had flipped the intimidation switch back on and I was once again left squirming in my seat.
“Which begs the question… how?”
My pulse began to pound in my ears. I glanced toward the café entrance without thinking.
“Looking for someone again?” he asked softly, and the casualness of it made it worse.
“I am going to require answers, Eliza,” he continued, voice still even, but firmer now.
“I need to know what brought you into my domain. More importantly…” His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Why you are protecting whoever helped you leave it.”
My breath caught.
Protecting.
The word felt too weighted. Like the truth would crush me any second.
“I…” I started, then stopped. The warmth of the café suddenly felt suffocating. The pastel walls too close. The air too thick.
“I need the bathroom,” I blurted, standing abruptly enough that my chair scraped loudly against the floor. He rose at the same time, instinctive, a subtle tension coiling through him.
“Eliza.”
“I just need the bathroom,” I insisted, forcing steadiness into my voice. His gaze held mine for a moment longer, searching for something I couldn’t name. Then, after another sigh, he inclined his head slightly toward a small sign just beyond the counter.
I grabbed my bag from beside the chair, leaving my jacket draped over the back deliberately as though I fully intended to return.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
I turned and walked toward the hallway without looking back. Each step felt louder than it should have, and all I could hope for was a window or some form of escape. However, whatI found was even better as the corridor was narrow, dimmer than the café floor, lined with framed prints and soft lighting. Halfway down, I spotted not only the restroom sign, but just beyond it was a door marked STAFF ONLY.
My heart leapt.
I didn’t hesitate.
I slipped through it and closed it quietly behind me. The kitchen beyond was a different world entirely, stainless steel counters, industrial lighting, and the hum of refrigeration units. The smell of coffee gave way to detergent and baked goods.
A barista laughed somewhere in a back prep room, out of sight. I kept my head down, moving quickly but not running, slipping past a stack of crates toward the rear exit. The alley door was propped open slightly to let in air, and my pulse roared as I stepped through it. Cool air hit me as I found myself in the alleyway, dumpsters lined along one wall, late morning light slicing between buildings. The city noise felt distant but reachable.
