Chapter 2 - The Interruption
Standing in the doorway was the restaurant manager, a snobbish man in a tight waistcoat named Mr. Albright. His eyes darted from Leo's soiled trousers to Clara, and his face instantly turned a dark, furious red.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Albright shouted, marching down the corridor. "Clara! Why are you fraternizing with the guests? And look at this mess! You’ve ruined a gentleman's clothing!"
Clara stood up quickly, her hands shaking as she tucked them behind her back. "Mr. Albright, I'm sorry, the guest was just—"
"Save it," Albright snapped, waving a hand dismissively. "I knew hiring a girl from your neighborhood was a mistake. You're careless, you're slow, and now you're causing a scene. Pack your things. You're done here."
Clara’s face went entirely pale. Her lower lip trembled, the reality of her landlord's threat suddenly crashing down on her shoulders. "Please, Mr. Albright. The stain is gone. Look at the floor. I'll stay late, I'll clean the walk-in—"
"I said get out," Albright growled, stepping closer to her.
He never got the chance to say another word.
Leo stood up. He didn't move fast, but the sheer predatory grace of his posture made Albright instantly freeze. Leo stepped between the manager and Clara, his shadow completely eclipsing the smaller man. He reached out, his fingers wrapping around the lapel of Albright's waistcoat, lifting him just an inch off the ground.
"You have a very loud voice, Albright," Leo said, his tone dropping to a freezing, guttural whisper that made the manager’s eyes widen in sheer terror. "And I don't like loud voices."
"S-Sir, please," Albright stammered, his hands flailing. "I was just enforcing restaurant policy. She’s just the night staff—"
"She just fixed a mistake your bartender made," Leo said, tightening his grip. "And if I hear that you've terminated her, or if she leaves this building without her full paycheck for the week, I will come back. And I won't bring club soda next time. Do you understand me?"
Albright nodded frantically, his face turning a sickly shade of white. "Yes, yes! She keeps her job! She keeps her check!"
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Leo dropped him. He turned back to Clara, who was staring at him as if he were a ghost. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pristine silver card holder, and handed her a heavy, black embossed business card. It didn't have a corporate logo. It just had a phone number and a name: Tommy Rossi.
"If he gives you any more trouble, call that number," Leo said. Then, without waiting for her to answer, he turned and walked back toward the dining room.
