Chapter 7 - The Second Glass
Six months later, I returned to the Onyx Room.
Not as a waitress.
As a guest.
Chloe nearly screamed when she saw me.
“Look at you!”
“Please don’t make this weird.”
“You disappeared with Dominic Russo!”
“I did not disappear with him.”
“You left your shift with him at two in the morning and returned six months later wearing a dress that costs more than my car.”
“The dress was on sale.”
“It absolutely was not.”
I laughed.
My father had entered witness protection after cooperating with investigators. Our relationship was complicated, but improving.
I had enrolled in college again.
Business administration.
Turns out spending months around criminals teaches you a surprising amount about organizational structure.
Then the room changed.
Just like it had that first night.
Dominic walked in.
Charcoal suit.
Dark shirt.
Tattoo visible along his neck.
Leo beside him.
Chloe whispered, “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“He’s looking at you.”
Dominic crossed the room.
He stopped in front of me.
“Emma Carter.”
“Dominic Russo.”
“You came.”
“You invited me.”
“I wasn’t sure you would.”
“That sounds almost insecure.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
Leo appeared beside him.
“I heard everything.”
Dominic glared at him.
“Go away.”
“With pleasure.”
He left with Chloe, who looked far too delighted about it.
Dominic pulled out a chair.
I sat.
“So,” I said. “You said you’d ask me something properly.”
“I did.”
“And?”
A waiter approached with a bottle of scotch.
Dominic immediately looked at me.
I started laughing.
“You’re never going to drink scotch normally again, are you?”
“No.”
The waiter poured two glasses.
Dominic inspected his napkin.
Right side up.
No X.
He pushed one glass toward me.
“You drink scotch?”
“Sometimes.”
He lifted his.
I lifted mine.
But before drinking, Dominic stopped.
“Six months ago, you saved my life without knowing me.”
“You’ve mentioned that.”
“I spent most of my life believing loyalty had to be purchased.”
I listened.
“You proved me wrong.”
“Careful. That sounded emotional.”
“I’m struggling.”
“I can tell.”
He smiled.
Then became serious.
“I don’t want your gratitude.”
“Good.”
“I don’t want you indebted to me.”
“Better.”
“And I don’t want you staying because you’re afraid to leave.”
I looked at him.
“What do you want?”
“You.”
My smile disappeared.
Dominic continued.
“Dinner. Tomorrow. Somewhere without poisoned liquor, criminal conspiracies, or Leo.”
“Those are very demanding requirements in Manhattan.”
“Emma.”
I let him suffer for three seconds.
Then five.
His eyes narrowed.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Very much.”
“Answer me.”
I leaned forward.
“Yes.”
Dominic blinked.
“Yes?”
“Yes, Dominic. I’ll have dinner with you.”
His shoulders relaxed.
I pointed at him.
“But this isn’t some mafia arrangement.”
“No.”
“No bodyguards sitting at our table.”
“Across the restaurant.”
“Dominic.”
“Outside?”
I sighed.
“We’ll negotiate.”
He smiled.
“That’s my girl.”
“Absolutely not.”
“What?”
“You don’t get ‘my girl’ after one date invitation.”
“I saved your apartment.”
“You didn’t save it. It was destroyed.”
“I replaced your laptop.”
“That earned you ‘helpful acquaintance.’”
He laughed.
A genuine laugh this time.
People turned.
Apparently, Dominic Russo laughing was more alarming than Dominic Russo threatening someone.
I picked up my glass.
He did the same.
Then I noticed something beneath his.
A black cocktail napkin.
Dominic saw my expression.
“What?”
I reached over.
Flipped it upside down.
And scratched a tiny X into the paper.
His face went completely still.
I held it for two seconds.
Then smiled.
“Kidding.”
Dominic stared at me.
“Emma.”
I started laughing.
“You should see your face.”
“You think that’s funny?”
“Extremely.”
He pulled my glass away.
“Hey!”
“You’ve lost scotch privileges.”
“That isn’t a thing.”
“It is now.”
I reached for it.
He moved it farther away.
“Dominic!”
For the first time since I had known him, there was no conspiracy waiting in the shadows.
No debt hanging over my head.
No poisoned glass between us.
Just two people arguing over a drink in the same room where everything had started.
Six months earlier, I had walked toward Dominic Russo because I believed I had no choice.
That night, I sat beside him because I had every choice in the world.
He placed the glass back in front of me.
“Tomorrow. Seven.”
“Seven-thirty.”
“Seven.”
“Seven-fifteen.”
He considered it.
“Fine.”
I smiled.
“See? You can negotiate.”
“Don’t spread that around.”
We touched glasses.
May you like
And this time, we both drank.
THE END
