Chapter 2 - The Man at Table Three| Vance Puit recovered quickly, mostly because he had spent years assuming that anyone who challenged him could be intimidated into silence.
He gave Julian a tight, professional smile.
“I apologize for the disturbance, sir. We take our service standards seriously here.”
“Do you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Interesting. Because I just watched you grab an injured employee while she was trying to clean up an accident.”
Puit’s smile stiffened.
“I was preventing further damage.”
“By grabbing her?”
“The situation was getting out of hand.”
Julian glanced toward the broken glass.
“The situation appears to be on the floor. The girl appears to be bleeding. And you appear to be enjoying yourself.”
Several guests looked down at their plates. One woman at table six covered a smile with her napkin.
Puit noticed.
“Sir, perhaps we could discuss this privately.”
“We could.”
Julian paused.
“But then you might behave differently because you knew someone was watching.”
The manager’s face darkened.
Dela had never heard anyone speak to Puit like that. Not the chefs, who feared losing their jobs. Not the servers, who depended on his approval for the best sections. Not even the restaurant’s wealthiest regulars, who usually preferred to avoid confrontation.
Julian seemed uninterested in the social rules that governed the room.
He walked toward Priya and crouched beside her, careful not to step on the glass.
“Can you move your fingers?”
Priya nodded shakily.
“Good. Has anyone called for the first-aid kit?”
“I was going to,” Dela said.
“Then please do.”
Puit stepped forward.
“Sir, I assure you our staff know how to handle minor injuries.”
Julian looked up.
“Then why is she still on the floor?”
The question landed harder than a shout.
Priya attempted to stand. Dela helped her, keeping the cloth pressed against her thumb.
“Easy,” Dela murmured. “One step at a time.”
“I’m sorry,” Priya whispered.
“Stop apologizing for being human.”
Julian heard her. His expression shifted slightly, as if the words had touched a place he normally kept locked.
Puit cleared his throat.
“Mr.—”
“Julian.”
“Mr. Julian, the restaurant has procedures for these matters.”
“Excellent. Follow them.”
“I will.”
“Start with getting her medical attention. Then secure the floor. After that, we can discuss the bottle.”
Puit’s jaw tightened.
“The bottle will have to be charged to someone.”
“Why?”
“Because losses must be accounted for.”
“Account for them.”
Julian said it as if the matter were almost embarrassingly simple.
“Accidents are operating expenses. If you want to discuss whether your restaurant can afford to operate without breaking a bottle, I suggest we invite the finance department.”
Puit went pale.
It was not the suggestion itself that frightened him. It was the casual certainty with which Julian had spoken about the restaurant’s finances.
Dela, however, was too busy helping Priya toward the service station to notice.
“Thank you,” Priya whispered to Julian.
“You don't owe me thanks for asking someone to do their job.”
Then Julian turned to Dela.
“You’ve worked here long?”
“Two years and eleven months.”
“And you always put yourself between the manager and his employees?”
“Only when the manager forgets they’re people.”
A flicker of amusement crossed Julian’s face.
“Does that happen often?”
“More often than it should.”
Puit made a sharp sound.
“Dela, I suggest you remember who signs your evaluations.”
She met his eyes.
“I remember who needs stitches.”
For one brief moment, Julian almost smiled.
Then his gaze moved to the dark stain spreading across the floor.
“Clean this properly,” he said. “And send me the incident report.”
Puit blinked.
“Your office?”
Julian reached into his jacket and took out a card.
“No. My email.”
He handed it to the manager.
Dela saw the name printed across the card.
Julian Rock.
Beneath it was a title she did not fully understand.
Managing Partner, Rockwell Holdings.
Puit read the card.
The color drained from his face.
Julian returned to table three, but he did not sit down immediately. Instead, he watched Dela guide Priya through the swinging kitchen doors.
May you like
Only then did he realize that the woman who had just challenged the general manager had no idea she had been standing in front of the man who owned the building.
And he found himself wondering what she would do when she learned the truth.
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