“Daphne.”
But I was done watching her retreat.
The woman rolled her eyes.
“Someone needs to tell people the truth.”
I was trying to decide which of the thousand things in my head to say first when the kitchen doors suddenly swung open.
The head chef walked into the dining room.
I recognized him from the menu.
His name was Alaric.
He wasn’t carrying food.
He wasn’t smiling.
He walked directly toward our table.
Then he stopped beside Mom.
His face had gone pale.
He looked at the woman who had insulted her.
“You need to leave.”
She laughed.
“And who exactly are you?”
Alaric didn’t answer.
Instead, he looked toward one of the employees.
“Lock the front door.”
Everyone stared at him.
Even I did.
The waiter hesitated.
“Lock it?”
“Now.”
A second later, the deadbolt clicked.
