Chapter 2 - THE ORDER THAT SILENCED THE ROOM|
“Let her go.”
Victor Russo spoke so quietly that Khloe almost thought she had imagined the words.
But the effect on the restaurant was immediate.
Every conversation stopped.
Liam looked up at the imposing stranger standing beside their table, his fingers still locked around Khloe's wrist.
“Excuse me?”
Victor didn't move.
“I said, let her go.”
There was nothing theatrical about his voice.
No shouting, no threats, and no dramatic gestures.
Somehow, that made him more frightening.
Liam gave a short, nervous laugh.
“Look, buddy, this is between me and my girlfriend.”
“Ex-girlfriend,” Khloe corrected.
Victor's dark eyes moved briefly toward her.
He noticed the fear she was trying desperately to hide.
Then he looked back at Liam.
“She has asked you to release her three times.”
Liam's smile disappeared.
“You counting?”
“Yes.”
One word.
Absolutely emotionless.
Liam glanced around the restaurant.
Several guests were watching openly now, including two men who had risen from a nearby table.
Both wore expensive black suits.
Neither looked particularly friendly.
Liam tightened his grip, almost as if refusing to release Khloe were the only remaining way to protect his pride.
Victor noticed.
His expression hardened.
“You are going to remove your hand from her wrist,” he said, “and you are going to do it now.”
“And if I don't?”
Victor leaned forward slightly.
“Then restaurant security will remove you, and the police can explain why putting your hands on someone who told you no is a crime.”
The maître d' immediately signaled toward the entrance.
Two security officers approached.
Liam finally understood that the situation had changed.
He released Khloe.
She pulled her arm against her chest and stepped backward.
Four angry red marks were already forming around her wrist.
Victor saw them.
Something dangerous passed across his face.
But instead of reaching for Liam, he turned toward Khloe.
“Are you hurt?”
She swallowed.
“I don't think so.”
“That wasn't what I asked.”
Khloe looked down at her trembling fingers.
“My wrist hurts.”
Victor nodded once.
“Would you like medical attention?”
“No.”
“Would you like the police?”
Khloe hesitated.
For six months, she had worked hard to convince herself that Liam was part of her past.
Calling the police would mean admitting that he still had the power to frighten her.
Then she looked at the bruises.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Victor immediately turned to the manager.
“Call them.”
Liam shot to his feet.
“You've got to be kidding me!”
Khloe flinched.
Victor stepped sideways, placing himself between them without touching either person.
“Sit down, Mr...?”
“Price,” Liam snapped.
“Mr. Price,” Victor repeated.
“You have already demonstrated that you cannot control your hands.”
“Who the hell are you?”
One of the security officers looked genuinely astonished by the question.
Victor gave a faint, humorless smile.
“Someone who heard her say no.”
Liam's face flushed.
“You think you're some kind of hero?”
“No.”
Victor's answer came without hesitation.
“But I know the difference between a conversation and an assault.”
The officers escorted Liam toward the front entrance.
Before disappearing into the hallway, he twisted around.
His eyes found Khloe.
“This isn't over, Chlo.”
She felt her stomach tighten.
Victor didn't follow him.
He simply watched until the doors closed.
Then he turned back toward her.
“May I sit?”
Khloe blinked.
After what had just happened, the simple question caught her off guard.
“You're asking?”
“It's your table.”
Something in her chest loosened.
She nodded.
Victor took the seat Liam had occupied only minutes earlier.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
A waiter appeared with a glass of water and a small bag of ice wrapped in a clean towel.
Victor pushed the ice toward her.
“Use that if it helps.”
Khloe stared at him.
“I know you.”
“Victor Russo.”
“I remember.”
She studied his face.
“Two weeks ago, you came into my office with four men who looked like they could break somebody in half.”
“They were having a difficult morning.”
Despite herself, Khloe laughed.
It was a small, shaky sound.
Victor's expression softened almost imperceptibly.
“You corrected my company's customs paperwork.”
“You entered the wrong tariff classification.”
“My people entered the wrong classification.”
“And you wanted me to approve it anyway.”
“I did.”
Khloe raised an eyebrow.
Victor held her gaze.
“You were right to refuse.”
That surprised her more than anything else.
Men like Victor Russo didn't appear to enjoy being corrected.
And yet he sounded completely sincere.
A uniformed police officer approached their table.
Khloe gave her statement while Victor remained silent.
She described Liam's threats, his grip, and the pain in her wrist.
She asked the officer to document the incident.
For the first time that evening, she felt something resembling control.
When the officer left, Victor stood.
“Do you have a safe way home?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He placed a business card beside her glass.
“If he comes near you again, contact the police first.”
Khloe looked at the card.
“And you?”
Victor adjusted his jacket.
“If you need information concerning my company's shipments, you already have my direct number.”
She almost smiled.
“Business only?”
“For now, whatever you are comfortable with.”
He started to leave.
Then Khloe remembered something.
“Victor?”
He turned.
“Liam said he had a new job.”
Victor waited.
“He was wearing a contractor badge when he came in.”
“Which company?”
“Northstar Freight.”
For the first time that evening, Victor's calm expression changed.
It happened so quickly she might have missed it.
But she didn't.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
Victor glanced toward one of the men standing near the entrance.
His voice became colder.
“That's interesting.”
“Why?”
He looked back at her.
“Because Northstar Freight is a subcontractor connected to the shipment you corrected.”
Khloe felt the blood drain from her face.
Before she could respond, her phone vibrated.
An unfamiliar number had sent her a photograph.
She opened the message.
It showed the front door of her apartment building.
The picture had been taken that evening.
Beneath it were seven words.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME FINISH TALKING.
Khloe slowly raised her eyes.
May you like
Victor was already watching her.
And this time, the danger was no longer confined to the restaurant.
