Page 13 of Roman

CHAPTER 4

EFFIE

Ishut the door of the diner and locked it, a sigh of relief escaping my lips. For a moment, I rested my head on the cold steel frame, then straightened and turned to look at the small space. I was tired today. I felt…off, I supposed was the best word. Tense. I had felt that way since yesterday.

Since the moment I’d walked out of the kitchen and met the gaze of the stranger.

My first thought was two-fold. He was incredibly handsome. Tall. His hair was a chestnut brown, the ends tipped in gold as if he spent time in the sun. His skin had the same golden hue, kissed by the outdoors. His shoulders were broad, tapering to a lean waist, and he looked fit. His eyes were green. Dark. Intense. The second thought was that he was also frightening. When he spoke my name, it sent a shiver down my spine. Well-dressed and looking out of place in my little shop, he had an air of authority about him. He exuded power. A hint of malevolence.

You didn’t cross this man.

And while he never smiled, and there appeared to be no change in his rigid demeanor, I was sure he had teased me. But his gaze remained intense, and his lips never curved into a smile. Not even a small one. Oddly enough, I wanted to see him smile.

Instinctively, I wanted him out of my shop. Away from me. Why he was there, I had no idea, but I wanted him gone. When he asked about Marianne, my suspicions were confirmed. What he wanted or needed, I wasn’t interested in.

His warning caught me off guard. He spoke as if I should listen to him. Obey him. That pissed me off.

I had heard his order. Simple. Straightforward businessman. Bagel and coffee. Nothing rich, sweet, or fatty. Just to be a pain, I dropped in one of our cookies. Normally, they only were given out with lunch orders. Soups, sandwiches, that sort of thing. But because I felt he wouldn’t want it, I put it in the bag. I didn’t expect him to eat it, but rather be annoyed by it. I had a feeling he didn’t like “extras.”

Marianne did come by after I closed the diner. As usual, she breezed in, launching into her latest diatribe. It was always about Marianne. Her troubles. Her life. She was always the victim, and whatever was occurring, it was never her fault. She never bothered to ask about anyone else. Especially me. I was used to it.

“I need money.”

“Again?”

She frowned. “I haven’t asked for a while.”

“You didn’t pay me back the five thousand you needed last time. Or the loan before that.”

She crossed her arms. “Look. I’m in serious trouble. I-I crossed the wrong people this time. They’re threatening to hurt me. You have to help me.” She paused. “Please.”

I was surprised at her tone. She never said please. I studied her. Under her makeup, she looked ashen. She seemed genuinely upset.

I sighed. “I have five thousand you can have.”

She shook her head. “I need seventy.”

I felt my eyes widen. “Seventy grand? I don’t have that sort of money.”

“You must. You invested a bunch of money from Mom.”

“Into this place. I bought this building.”

She shook her head. “Stop holding out on me.”

“I can’t help you.”

She got mad. “So now I have to suffer. This is all your fault!”

I rolled my eyes. “My fault? You’re the one who owes someone seventy thousand dollars. Marianne, what have you done?”

“Give me the five. I’ll take it and hit the casino.”

“No. That’s what got you into trouble in the first place, isn’t it?” I knew she liked to gamble, but I had no idea it was to this excess.

She grabbed her purse. “I should have known coming to you was useless. I thought you’d help me. You’re my sister, for God’s sake.” She paused dramatically. “Mom would be so disappointed.”

I shook my head. “She would be glad one of us has a level head.”