Chapter 35 No Harm Done
"Be safe tonight. Call if you need anything." Marco's standard goodbye, delivered in his standard flat tone. But there was something almost warm underneath it.
Elysium on a Thursday night was busy but not packed~the sweet spot where the energy was good but you weren't constantly fighting through crowds. Cedric made his way through the back entrance, past the kitchen where line cooks were yelling at each other in Spanish and English and what might have been Russian, up the back stairs to the third floor VIP section.
Natasha was already there, adjusting her hair in one of the mirrors strategically placed throughout the floor. She looked up when Cedric entered, her face lighting up.
"There you are! I was starting to worry you'd bail on me."
"I said I'd be here."
"Yeah, but you've been different lately. More..." She waved a hand vaguely. "I don't know. Distant? Like you're here but not really here."
Cedric busied himself with checking his section assignments, avoiding her eyes. "I'm here. Same as always."
"Mmm." Natasha wasn't buying it, but she dropped it for now. "Anyway, Alessandro wants you on tables four through seven tonight. Light crowd expected. Probably an easy night."
"Good. I could use easy."
"Couldn't we all." She finished with her hair and turned to face him fully. "So. Saturday. That's when your boyfriend is meeting your mom, right?"
Cedric's hands stilled on his tie. "How did you~"
"Rosa told Maria, Maria told half the kitchen staff, the kitchen staff told everybody." Natasha grinned at his expression. "You really think anything stays secret in that house? We all know about the dinner. We all know Mr. Falcone is losing his mind trying to make it perfect."
"Jesus Christ."
"It's sweet, actually. Kind of humanizes him, you know? The big scary boss gets nervous about meeting his boyfriend's mother. It's almost cute."
"He's not cute. He's~" Cedric stopped, not sure how to finish that sentence. What was Falcone? Dangerous, definitely. Controlling, absolutely. But also tender and anxious and capable of losing sleep over flower arrangements.
"He's in love with you," Natasha supplied. "That's what he is. And you're in love with him, even if you still look scared about it."
"I'm not scared."
"Cedric. You look like a deer in headlights every time someone mentions his name." She softened. "But for real, I'm happy for you. You deserve someone who treats you good. Who sees you as more than just..." She gestured vaguely. "You know. What we used to do."
What we used to do. The delicate euphemism for the sex work that had been Cedric's life just a month ago. The bathroom stalls and back alleys and men who didn't care about his name. The version of himself that felt like a different person now, someone he'd left behind or grown out of or maybe just buried.
"Thanks," he said quietly. "That means a lot."
"Now come on. Shift starts in five and Alessandro's on the warpath about something. Let's try to stay on his good side."
The night unfolded in its usual rhythm~drinks poured, bottles served, small talk made with customers who ranged from pleasant to annoying to occasionally handsy. Marco maintained his usual post near the stairs, close enough to intervene but far enough to be unobtrusive. Cedric had stopped noticing him most of the time, the way you stop noticing your own shadow.
Around eleven, a group of men in expensive suits took over table six. Cedric recognized the type immediately~finance guys, probably, or tech startup executives. Young enough to still think they were invincible, rich enough that they'd never been told no. They ordered top-shelf everything and tipped like they were trying to prove something.
"You're Cedric, right?" one of them asked as Cedric set down their third round. Blond, conventionally attractive in that generic way where you couldn't quite remember his face five minutes after looking at it.
"That's me."
"You work here often?"
Standard small talk. Cedric had his standard responses ready. "Three nights a week."
"Cool, cool." Blond Guy leaned back in his seat, drink in hand, trying to look casual and failing. "So like, are you single? Or~"
"He's not." Marco had materialized beside the table without Cedric hearing him approach. His hand landed on Cedric's shoulder—gentle but unmistakable. A claim and a warning in one gesture. "Mr. Santos is spoken for."
Blond Guy's eyes widened slightly. "Oh. Shit, sorry man, I didn't mean~"
"No harm done." Cedric kept his customer service smile in place. "Can I get you gentlemen anything else?"
They declined, suddenly very interested in their drinks and their phones and anything that wasn't Cedric. Marco's hand stayed on his shoulder until they were out of earshot, then dropped away.
"That was subtle," Cedric muttered.
"Subtlety wasn't the goal."
"I could have handled it."
"I know." Marco's expression was unreadable. "But Mr. Falcone was very clear about his expectations regarding your safety. That includes unwanted attention."
"He's watching right now, isn't he." It wasn't a question.
"He watches every night you work." Marco said it matter-of-factly, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "From his office. The cameras feed directly to his computer."
Cedric should have been annoyed. Should have been creeped out by the constant surveillance. Instead, he felt something warm unfurl in his chest. Falcone, sitting in his office, watching Cedric work. Making sure he was safe. Caring enough to lose sleep over it.
"That's very stalker-ish of him."
"Yes," Marco agreed. "But also very him."
The rest of the shift passed without incident. The finance guys left around midnight, tipping excessively as if to apologize for the earlier awkwardness. The other tables were mostly regulars~people Cedric recognized, who recognized him, who maintained the polite distance that came with understanding exactly whose protection he was under.
By two AM, the third floor was clearing out. Alessandro did his final rounds, counted the registers, and dismissed the staff with his usual curt efficiency. Natasha left with a wave and a "good luck Saturday!" that made Cedric's stomach clench with renewed anxiety.
Saturday. Less than two days away now.
Marco drove him home in comfortable silence. Cedric spent the drive watching the city blur past, thinking about his mother's impending visit, about Falcone's nervousness, about the strange life he was building in the spaces between who he used to be and who he was becoming.
The mansion was dark when they arrived except for a single light in Falcone's office window. Still awake then, despite sleeping most of the afternoon. Or awake again, unable to quiet his mind enough to rest.
"Get some sleep," Marco said as Cedric climbed out of the car. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
"Why? What's tomorrow?"
"Friday. Last day before your mother's visit. If Mr. Falcone is anxious now, tomorrow he'll be impossible." Marco's almost-smile appeared again. "Good luck."
Cedric let himself into the house, moving quietly through the dark spaces he'd come to know so well. Up the stairs, past his own bedroom door, toward the light still glowing from Falcone's office.
He knocked softly, waited for the "come in" before entering.
Falcone was at his desk again, laptop open, papers spread out. But he wasn't working. He was just sitting there, staring at the screen with an expression Cedric couldn't quite read.