Chapter 6 - The Woman Behind the Counter
Three months later, Mara stood behind a polished walnut counter and stared at the sign outside.
THE HARBOR ROOM.
She hated the name.
Adrian loved it.
That alone made her hate it more.
The restaurant occupied the first floor of a restored brick building overlooking Boston Harbor.
No flickering neon.
No broken freezer.
No rats.
Most importantly, Mara owned fifty-one percent.
Adrian owned forty-nine.
She had insisted.
“You're late,” she said as he entered.
Adrian removed his black coat.
His sleeves were rolled slightly, revealing the familiar tattoos across his hands and wrists.
“I own the building.”
“I own the restaurant.”
“Forty-nine percent.”
“Fifty-one.”
“I regret teaching you contract law.”
“You didn't.”
“My attorney did.”
“Exactly.”
Adrian sat at the counter.
Mara placed a coffee in front of him.
He stared at it.
“What?”
“Did you make this?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone else touch it?”
“No.”
“Were you watching it?”
Mara stared at him.
“Adrian.”
He picked up the cup.
“Just checking.”
Three months had changed things.
Victor was awaiting trial.
Several rival operations had collapsed after evidence mysteriously reached federal investigators.
Adrian had begun pulling Bellandi businesses away from the operations his father had built.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Not because Mara had asked him to.
At least that was what he claimed.
She didn't believe him.
The front door opened.
Luca entered carrying flowers.
Mara frowned.
“Those better not be for me.”
“They're for the restaurant.”
“Why?”
“Six-month reservation list.”
Mara stared.
“What?”
“We're booked through February.”
Adrian sipped his coffee.
“I told you.”
“You did something.”
“I made one phone call.”
“To whom?”
“A food critic.”
“You threatened a food critic?”
Adrian looked offended.
“I invited him.”
Luca placed the flowers on the counter.
“He threatened him a little.”
“Luca.”
“Long career.”
Mara laughed.
It was the kind of laugh she hadn't heard from herself in years.
Easy.
Unworried.
She looked around the restaurant.
Three months earlier, she had been wondering whether she could afford rent.
Now thirty people worked for her.
The kitchen was full.
The lights were warm.
Her refrigerator actually worked.
And nobody had tried to kill anyone since opening night.
A respectable achievement.
Adrian watched her.
“What?”
Mara asked.
“You're happy.”
“Don't ruin it.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
He reached into his coat.
Mara immediately pointed at him.
“No.”
Adrian froze.
“You don't even know what I'm doing.”
“Every time you reach into that coat, my life gets complicated.”
He slowly removed a small velvet box.
Mara stared.
Luca turned around.
“I'm leaving.”
“Coward,” Adrian said.
“Professional survival instinct.”
Luca disappeared into the kitchen.
Mara looked at the box.
Then Adrian.
“No.”
“You haven't opened it.”
“No.”
“Open it.”
“You're terrifying.”
“You've never been afraid of me.”
“I'm reconsidering.”
Adrian pushed the box toward her.
Mara opened it.
Inside was not a ring.
It was a key.
She frowned.
“What is this?”
“The apartment upstairs.”
“I already have an apartment.”
“Your landlord raised the rent.”
Mara's eyes narrowed.
“How do you know that?”
Adrian immediately realized his mistake.
“Mara—”
“Are you investigating my landlord?”
“No.”
“Adrian.”
“A little.”
She tried not to smile.
Failed.
He stood.
“You don't have to take it.”
“Good.”
“You don't have to move upstairs.”
“Good.”
“And you definitely don't have to have dinner with me tonight.”
Mara looked at him.
“That sounded suspiciously like a date.”
“It was.”
“You're terrible at this.”
“I've never needed practice.”
“That arrogance again.”
“Is that a no?”
Mara closed the velvet box.
She handed it back.
Adrian accepted it without disappointment.
Then she walked around the counter.
“Seven thirty.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“Dinner.”
A slow smile appeared.
“Seven thirty.”
“And I'm choosing the restaurant.”
“I own several.”
“Exactly why you're not choosing.”
Adrian laughed.
Mara reached the kitchen door.
“Mara?”
She turned.
He lifted his coffee.
“To cracked glasses.”
She smiled.
May you like
“To waitresses who don't mind their own business.”
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