The Billionaire’s Bun In Her Oven - Ellie Rowe Page 0,3
single complaint, even though there are definitely some folks waiting. Everyone seems to be in a fine mood. It’s a nice night, and hell, this is New York, everyone is waiting for tables in one way or another.
Still no sign of Stephen or his crew though. I sigh, frustrated. They were supposed to be here early, so we could set them up and give them our undivided attention.
But now, the place is hopping. I remind myself of my speech to the crew. He’ll be served just like everyone else. At this rate though, I’m not going to have any time to stop and chat. I’ve been flying to different posts all night, filling in as needed.
It’s a good reminder that I really did build this place. I’m gonna earn my shift drink tonight! In my confidence, I had completely forgotten my foreboding conversation with Paulie in the refrigerator. That is, until I see Nadia being seated at a table directly in front of me.
“Here you are, Ms. Sweet.” I damn near gag. Sweet?! Oh, the irony. Some alias! I have half a mind to march right up to her, and toss her out. But she’s smart. She knows I can’t make a scene. Instead, I hang back to keep an eye on her.
She peers at the place setting, measuring it with her fork.
“The petty bitch,” I hiss under my breath. But then, she grimaces. Hah! It’s perfect, isn’t it, you jerk?
Nadia then looks around her, taking in all the smiling faces and plates full of food. I watch her check her giant purse a few times, barely opening the zipper. What’s she got in there, a severed head? Finally, she stands and looks around surreptitiously.
I follow her as she pokes around the place. It may sound crazy, and if anyone knew I was tailing a customer, it wouldn’t look good, but this girl is not to be trusted. She hates me. And I’m inclined to return the favor.
She walks into the dead end by the coat check and bathrooms, and carefully sets her massive bag down, looking around her.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, and she jumps about a mile high.
“Is that what you call service? Sneaking up on your customers and giving them a fucking heart attack!” she snaps at me and picks up her bag.
“If I recall, it was you, not me, who said, ‘I wish you’d drop dead’. So, you tell me.”
Nadia only sneers at me in response.
“I’ll ask you again since you seem hard of hearing tonight. What are you doing here?” My tone is even as I cross my arms in front of me.
I don’t trust the bitch, but she also doesn’t scare me. She’s in my house, and if she wants to give me a good reason to kick her out, please be my fucking guest.
“Cynthia, I’m hurt. You know I wouldn’t miss your big night for all the world.”
“Cute,” I cut in. “I always love a fan. Now, what the fuck are you doing snooping around my restaurant?”
Nadia’s eyes flash for a moment, but she keeps her cool. “Is it a crime to look for the restroom? I’m afraid your signs aren’t very clearly marked, so it took me awhile. Anyway, I’m not here to argue with you, Cynthia, I’m really not.”
“Well, it’s a cold day in hell then, isn’t it?” I smile sweetly, but Nadia is not deterred.
“You’re not as important as you think you are. I’m not here for you. I’m here for Stephen Longvale.”
I want to lie and tell her she’s got it wrong, that he’s not coming, but she’s already seen it in my face.
“Ah, you just missed him. Sorry about that.”
“Now, now, lying doesn’t suit you. He hasn’t been here yet, has he? Maybe he decided your place isn’t worth visiting?”
Oooh, this bitch.
“Shame, too. He’s single, you know.”
“I hadn’t heard,” I say flatly.
“I heard!” Paulie’s voice chimes from the men’s bathroom.
“Paulie! Get back to the kitchen!”
“Yes, ma’am,” he calls as he appears through the door. He takes a moment to scan Nadia up and down with a look of disgust. “Evening, Cruella.”
“Bite me, Paulie,” she scoffs.
“Oh gosh, I would, but I’ve given up saturated fat and spiteful bitch for Lent,” he shrugs and bats his eyes at her. “Well, toodles. Holler if you need me,” he whispers to me and heads back to the kitchen.
“I could write you up for that kind of language —” she starts, but I put my hand up.
“Enough of the bullshit, Nadia.