Chapter 17 Chapter 17
Scarlett's POV
My ears were burning.
I rubbed them absently as Damon's car glided through the streets. Someone was talking about me right now. I was sure of it.
Probably multiple someones, actually. When you're number two on the dark web's most wanted list, you get used to people discussing how they'd like to kill you. Occupational hazard.
The car stopped in front of The Brew Station.
"Thank you for the ride," I said.
Damon nodded. He didn't smile. He rarely did. But his eyes softened just slightly when he looked at me.
I grabbed my bag and opened the door.
"Scarlett."
I turned back. "Yes?"
"If anything happens, call me immediately."
"I'm going to work, not a war zone."
"Call me anyway."
I smiled. "Okay."
I stepped out onto the sidewalk. I was wearing my usual work outfit. Black t-shirt, jeans, canvas shoes. Hair pulled back in a ponytail. Nothing fancy. Nothing that screamed "I just married one of the most powerful men in New York."
That was exactly how I wanted it.
I walked toward the coffee shop with a bounce in my step. Nobody here knew who I really was. Nobody knew what I'd done. And that's how it would stay.
Behind me, I heard Damon's car pull away.
What I didn't know was that he'd already made a phone call. His security team was investigating me. The door handle incident had raised questions. So had the hacked security footage from Champlain Hotel a month ago.
Damon was careful. Suspicious. He'd built an empire by never taking anything at face value.
And ever since I'd walked into his life, strange things kept happening around him.
The familiar bell chimed as I pushed open the door to The Brew Station.
"Scarlett! You're here!" Sarah looked up from behind the espresso machine. Her face broke into a relieved smile. "Thank God. Mike said you were coming but I wasn't sure."
"Told you I'd make it," I said. I grabbed my apron from the hook and tied it around my waist. "How are you feeling? Mike said you had a stomach bug."
"Ugh, don't remind me. I spent all night hugging the toilet." She made a face. "But I'm better now. Still a little queasy though."
"You should go home and rest."
"Can't. We're understaffed as it is." She started wiping down the counter. "Besides, you just got over the same thing, right? Food poisoning?"
I nodded. Let her believe that story. It was easier than explaining the truth.
"Are you sure you should be working?" Mike came out from the back office. He was frowning with concern. "You were pretty sick last week."
"I'm fine now," I said. I gave him my best reassuring smile. "Really. I feel great."
"Did you go to a doctor?"
"Yes. Clean bill of health."
"Well, if you start feeling bad, let me know immediately," Mike said. "I don't need you passing out behind the counter."
"I promise."
He nodded and headed back to his office.
Sarah leaned closer. "He's been super worried about you. We all have been."
Guilt twisted in my stomach. These people cared about me. They were genuinely concerned.
"I really am fine," I said softly. "Thank you for worrying though."
Sarah smiled and squeezed my arm. "That's what friends are for."
I smiled back. Ignored the uncomfortable feeling in my chest.
"I should go change into my uniform," I said. "Lunch rush is about to start."
The lunch rush hit hard.
I moved through the familiar motions without thinking. Taking orders. Making lattes. Creating latte art on the foam. Handing over drinks with that sweet smile customers expected.
"Grande vanilla latte for Amy!"
"Iced americano for James!"
"Caramel macchiato for Sarah!"
The line kept moving. Customers came and went. The cash register dinged. The espresso machine hissed and gurgled.
I was pulling a shot of espresso when the bell over the door chimed again.
I looked up automatically. Smiled. Started to say my usual greeting.
The words died in my throat.
Nico Romano stood in the doorway.
My brother. Or rather, the person who was supposed to be my brother but had never treated me like one.
He was wearing an expensive suit. His dark hair was perfectly styled. His face was twisted in disgust as he looked around the coffee shop like it was beneath him.
His eyes landed on me. His expression got worse.
What was he doing here?
Nico walked up to the counter. His lip curled as he looked at me.
"So this is what you do all day," he said. His voice dripped with contempt. "Serve coffee. You're seriously working as a waitress. You realize you're embarrassing the entire family, right?"
I kept my face neutral. Professional. "Welcome to The Brew Station. What can I get you today?"
His eyes narrowed. "Don't play dumb with me, Scarlett. You're a Romano. You could be living in a mansion right now. Instead you're here taking orders from random people like some kind of servant."
I walked to the register. Kept my voice level. "Sir, if you'd like to place an order, I'm happy to help you. Otherwise, I'll need you to step aside for the next customer."
"Sir?" He laughed. It was an ugly sound. "You're calling me sir? I'm your brother."
"Are you ordering anything?"
"You're acting like we don't know each other."
"What would you like to drink today?"
Nico's jaw clenched. I could see him getting angrier.
I'd learned something important over the past six months at the Romano mansion. Nico hated being ignored. He hated being treated like he didn't matter.
So that's exactly what I was doing.
"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "I want a venti caramel macchiato. Three shots of espresso. Two pumps. Extra hot. But I want the foam cold. Draw a heart with the caramel. No, wait. Make it a star. Actually, never mind. Make it a heart. Oh, and you know what? Change it to iced instead."
He was deliberately making this difficult. Changing his order over and over. Trying to make me mess up. Trying to humiliate me.
I typed everything into the register without missing a beat. "One venti iced caramel macchiato with three shots, two pumps, caramel heart design. Anything else?"
His face turned red. He'd expected me to get flustered.
"That'll be seven fifty," I said.
Nico pulled out his wallet. He took out a ten dollar bill.
Then he dropped it on the floor.
He crossed his arms. Smirked. "Pick it up, waitress."