Chapter 13
13:
Whispers rippled across the room like wind through tall grass.
“Do you think the manager came for Katie Dawson?”
“Has to be. He wouldn’t be this serious unless something major was going down.”
“Maybe the owner of the Morfort Restaurant has taken an interest in her.”
“If that’s true, the Dawsons just struck gold. Their status would shoot through the roof—and they’d probably take a few people with them.”
“Honestly, Katie’s got some serious luck on her side.”
Wrapped in the glow of attention, Katie looked like she was walking on air.
One by one, heads turned toward Katie’s table, curiosity building like pressure behind a dam.
With a hint of bashfulness in her eyes, Katie rose to her feet and offered a modest smile, preparing to meet the manager.
Everything about her posture said she expected the manager’s approach to end right at her side. Instead, he glided past her without a second glance. For a full second, she stood frozen, her grin faltering mid-expression.
The humiliation hit her like a slap. Her hands twitched, and she struggled not to shrink into her chair. By now, the quiet had turned into silent amusement. The entire room knew exactly what had just happened.
“Didn’t you say you needed the bathroom? I’ll come with you,” Yolanda said, leaning in to break the tension.
Thankful for the intervention, Katie forced a smile and quickly said, “Yes, let’s go.”
Yolanda stood up. Just as the two were turning to leave, they froze mid-step when the manager suddenly stopped—right in front of Christina’s table, beaming.
Their heads slowly turned, eyes fixed on Christina as if she had just grown wings.
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“Miss Jones, my employer would be honored if you and your friend would join him for a private meal on the top floor,” the manager said with a slight bow and polished tone.
The Morfort Restaurant’s top floor wasn’t meant for regular patrons. It was practically sacred ground. No one entered without an invitation, and most folks never even saw the staircase leading there.
A wave of envy swept across the room as everyone’s attention snapped to Christina. Did she actually know the elusive owner of the Morfort Restaurant?
Brendon’s grip on his wine glass tightened, his expression darkening.
“When did Christina get acquainted with the owner of the Morfort Restaurant? Was it during the shooting competition or could it be…”
Yolanda deliberately trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.
Katie sneered, bitterness seeping into her smile. “I told you before—she’s always had a way of getting what she wants with her tricks. Now you see her knack for snaring men!”
“Or maybe we’re reading too much into it. Could just be coincidence,” Yolanda said purposely, casting Brendon a sidelong glance to gauge his reaction.
“I don’t see what kind of coincidence you think there is. If she actually had any talent, there’s no way she could have tolerated being stuck doing nothing but housework every single day for the past three years. She’d have gone out and made something of herself. But no—she’s spent all those years living off the Dawsons without a single thing to show for it,” Katie replied, her voice sharp with resentment.
Katie’s blood boiled at the thought of Christina rubbing elbows with the elusive owner of the Morfort Restaurant. Rage twisted her face as she said through clenched teeth, “She really knows how to throw herself at powerful men.”
“Weren’t you both headed to the restroom? Don’t linger,” Brendon chimed in, not bothering to hide the chill in his voice. His sharp tone made it clear he was done listening.
Catching on to Brendon’s foul mood and wanting no part in what might follow, Yolanda looped her arm through Katie’s and nudged her away.
Once Yolanda and Katie disappeared from view, Brendon’s eyes trailed after Christina’s back as she walked away with the manager. His thoughts churned. Something about watching Christina walk off left a bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn’t name the feeling, but it scratched at the edges of his calm like a thorn. The discomfort reminded him of tossing aside something insignificant—only to watch someone else treasure it.
Brendon’s jaw tightened as he frowned, eyes narrowing while Christina walked out of sight. Food sat untouched in front of him, and he loosened his tie with a sigh, suddenly stifled by the weight of his own frustration.
Away from the buzz below, the top floor revealed a very different world. Christina stepped into a quiet space where refinement lingered in every corner.
By the grand window, Dylan sat in a tall-backed chair carved with intricate details, his presence commanding without effort. A lavish spread waited on the polished wood table—wine, porcelain, silverware—all arranged like a private banquet for royalty.
Dylan was the only one in the room, and though he sat with ease, there was something about him that made the space feel charged. He carried himself with a quiet, commanding grace, like someone out of reach, wrapped in both power and poise.
Christina blinked. So, this was the elusive owner of the Morfort Restaurant—the very employer the manager had spoken of.
Christina led Davina over and took a seat without hesitation, a playful note in her voice as she said, “Looks like Mr. Scott’s got a request for us.”
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