Chapter 4 - The Predator’s Game
When Sophie returned to table 4 bearing the vintage bottle of 1982 Lafite, the atmosphere at the table had curdled into pure acid.
Camilla Russo was dabbing furiously at her eyes with a linen napkin, having clearly staged a waterworks performance to regain Alessandro’s sympathy, while the don sat in stony, immovable silence, staring blankly at the wall.
"Here is your wine, Monsieur," Sophie said, her voice betraying none of the internal panic churning from her conversation in the cellar.
She uncorked the bottle with practiced elegance, pouring a meticulous two ounces into Alessandro’s crystal glass.
Alessandro swirled the dark red liquid, inhaled the complex bouquet of cedar, black currant, and leather, and took a slow sip. For a moment, his eyes closed in appreciation.
"Immaculate," he murmured. He looked up at Sophie, his gaze burning with an intensity that made Camilla flinch. "You have a refined palate, Sophie. It would be a tragedy for such talents to be wasted on clearing plates for ingrates."
Camilla snapped, dropping her fork onto her plate with a sharp clang. "That's it! I've had enough of this street rat insulting us! Alessandro, if you don't fire her this instant, I am walking out that door!"
Alessandro slowly set his wine glass down. The movement was so deliberate, so devoid of emotion, that the entire table seemed to hold its breath.
He turned his head slowly toward Camilla.
"Then walk, Camilla," Alessandro said softly.
The words hung in the air like falling ice.
Camilla’s jaw slacked. "What... what did you say?"
"I said, walk," Alessandro repeated, his voice cutting through the ambient noise of the restaurant. "You came to my table uninvited three months ago. You have proven yourself loud, petty, and profoundly stupid tonight. My driver is waiting outside. He will take you back to your apartment. We are done."
Humiliation flared across Camilla’s face in a hot, brilliant wave. She stood up so fast her chair screeched backward.
"You'll regret this, Alessandro Moretti! You'll regret picking a trashy waitress over me!" she shrieked, turning on her heel and storming out of the restaurant, drawing the scandalized stares of every diner in the room.
Alessandro didn't even watch her leave. He poured himself another ounce of the Lafite, gesturing to the empty chair across from him.
"Sit down, Sophie."
Sophie stared at him. "Monsieur, I am on duty—"
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"I am the largest investor in this establishment," Alessandro interrupted smoothly. "If I tell you to sit, you sit. Or I buy the building tomorrow morning and turn it into a parking garage. Your choice."
Swallowing hard, Sophie untied her apron, let it drop onto her service station, and slowly pulled out the chair opposite the most feared man in New York.
