Up close, they looked exactly like what they were—polished, expensive, used to being obeyed. The younger one’s lip curled slightly, already annoyed at being interrupted by someone who didn’t belong in their world.
“This doesn’t concern you,” he said.
Marcus nodded once. “Didn’t think it did.”
He took a step closer anyway.
“But it sounds like she said she’d move.”
The woman looked at him then—really looked. Surprise flickered across her face. Not relief yet. Not trust. Just recognition that something had shifted.
The older man exhaled through his nose, irritated. “We have a reservation. That table is ours.”
“And she said she’d move,” Marcus repeated, steady. “No need to crowd her.”
A pause.
Small.
Continue on the next page:
