She felt warmth behind her and glanced over her shoulder.
Geoffrey. He didn’t appear angry... “David likes you.”
“David?”
“David Powell. The man in the red tie at your table.”
Emily looked back at the table and saw Green-Eyed Man staring at her.David Powell.She gave him a small smile, then turned back to watch Luke, the bartender, pour a martini for another server’s table.
“You’re doing well. He’s not easily won over. It took Amber a month.”
“I didn’t do anything different than I normally do.”
Geoffrey moved to her side and tilted his head. “You don’t have to, Em. You have an aura.” He grinned. “Or maybe he was as tired of Amber’s attitude as I was.”
Emily swallowed over the lump in her throat as she thought of Amber’s horrible death. Geoffrey murdered her. Would he do the same to Emily once he got tired of her? How much longer would she survive around him?
She blinked and traced the pattern of the dark wood bar with the back of her pen. “I liked Amber.”
Geoffrey snorted.
Emily blinked several times, trying to rid her eyes of the hot tears forming. She hoped her eyes weren’t red now.
Geoffrey scanned the restaurant. “Keep up the good work. I understand David is quite the lover.”
Emily patted her apron, making sure she had her corkscrew in her pocket and accepted the bottle of wine from Luke. She glanced at Geoffrey. “I’ll treat him well.”
“I know you will.”
Emily made her way back to David’s table, schooling her face once more. A faint smile appeared on his face as she approached.
She opened the bottle and poured a bit for him to taste. He held up the glass to study its color and then took a sip of the ruby-colored liquid. After a moment, with his eyes closed, he nodded. “Excellent. Thank you.”
She poured the appropriate amount into his glass, filled the glasses of the five other men around the table, and returned the bottle to David. “Your oysters will be out soon.” She gave a small bow of her head and turned away.
“Emily.”
Emily turned back at the sound of David’s voice.
He smiled, his eyes full of curiosity. “Thank you.”
Emily blinked. “My pleasure, sir.” She hurried away, wondering at the flutter in her chest and stomach.
* * *
Emily had onlythe one table for the night. The men ate and drank and laughed. David watched her anytime she came around but didn’t touch her. Unusual but not unheard of. Many men who came into the other sections of the Café were crude.
Section One was a different world. There were four tables total in the back area of the restaurant with two waitresses per shift. Only people with influence were seated there—politicians or their family members, lobbyists, and certain businessmen.
Chloe, the other Section One waitress on that night, had the two smaller tables and was kept busy bringing wine and food, smiling as the men groped her beneath her skirt.
No one at Emily’s table touched her and she had plenty of time to wonder why. The men weren’t demanding, weren’t rude or crude. Yes, they had high expectations, as she found out when one of the meals wasn’t quite cooked right, but they weren’t cruel about it. She took it back and told Henry. He brought out the corrected plate personally with an apology.
It was surreal. She’d expected...
Whathadshe expected? More, she supposed. More of what, though, she wasn’t sure.
As the guests finished up their final glasses of wine, David waved his credit card subtly at her.