My glare silences him. One look, and he knows—he's lucky to be walking out of here.
The moment they're gone, I turn to Wren. She's trembling, eyes wide, lips parted in shock. Without thinking, I pull her against me, one arm around her waist, the other hand cradling the back of her head.
"Are you okay?" I murmur into her hair.
She nods against my chest. I can feel her heart hammering, a frightened bird trapped in a cage of bone.Mylittle bird.
"He—he's been coming in for weeks," she whispers. "Always saying things, always trying to touch me. Management doesn't care because he tips well."
The rage builds again, a tidal wave threatening to drown my self-control. I make a mental note to not just fire the managers but to ensure they never work in this industry again. I'll dismantle this entire place brick by fucking brick.
A heavyset man in a cheap suit approaches. The manager, I presume.
"Is there a problem here, Wren?” he asks, pointedly ignoring me.
Before Wren can answer, I step forward, keeping her tucked against my side. "The problem is your establishment allowing patrons to assault your staff. The problem is that I just witnessedbehavior that opens you up to lawsuits I could fund for the next decade without noticing the expense."
His face pales. "Sir, I don't think?—"
"That's evident." I pull out my wallet, extract a black card. "Call this number tomorrow. My people will be in touch about the sale."
He takes the card, mouth opening and closing like a fish.
"Wren's shift is over," I add. "She's coming with me."
The manager looks at her, then back at me, clearly calculating the cost of opposing me versus losing a server for the night.
"Of course, Mr. Mercer," he finally says. "Wren, you can clock out."
She looks up at me, surprise and something else—relief?—in her eyes. "I need the hours," she whispers.
I bend close to her ear. "You'll be compensated for more than just tonight. I promise."
Her body relaxes against mine, and I feel a surge of satisfaction so intense it's almost sexual. She's trusting me. Leaning on me. Exactly as she should.
"Let me get my things," she says softly.
I watch her walk to the back, cataloging every person who looks her way, every potential threat in the room. By tomorrow, I'll have security details on her apartment. Background checks on everyone who works here. A complete overhaul of her life is already in motion, though she doesn't know it yet.
No one will ever threaten what's mine again. I'll tear apart anyone who tries.
When she returns with her purse and a worn jacket, I take her hand in mine. Her fingers are cold, delicate. I enfold them completely, warming them, protecting them.
"Come on, little bird," I say. "Let's get you somewhere safe."
three
. . .
Wren
I've never beenin a car this expensive. The leather seat beneath me probably costs more than my rent, and I'm terrified I'll somehow damage it just by sitting here. My hands are still shaking—from the confrontation at the bar, from the way Calvin defended me, from the way he called me his little girl’ in front of all those people, from the way he's looking at me now in the dim lighting of the limo. Like I'm something precious. Something he wants to devour. No one has ever looked at me like that.
"You're safe now," he says, his voice rumbling in the quiet space between us. He's massive, taking up so much room with his broad shoulders and long legs. The suit he's wearing fits him perfectly, like it was molded to his body. It probably was.
I nod, not trusting my voice yet. The partition between us and the driver is closed, creating this bubble where only we exist. Outside, the city lights blur as we glide through traffic, heading... where exactly?
"Where are we going?" I finally ask, my voice small.
