Chapter 5 - The Shadow at the Counter|
Fay froze instantly. She pressed herself harder against the cabinet, desperately trying to disappear into the stainless steel.
No one came down here at two in the morning. The main kitchen was off-limits to most of the syndicate muscle, and the family maintained a private kitchenette upstairs.
The footsteps were slow, measured, and precise—not the uneven, clumsy rhythm of a drunk guard.
Fay held her breath, pressing the bag of frozen peas hard against her jaw while covering her mouth with her free hand to stifle her breathing.
The footsteps stopped near the industrial refrigerator. She heard the soft suction of the heavy door opening, followed by the clink of glass. Then the footsteps moved again, not toward the exit, but toward the center islands.
Toward her.
Fay squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for whatever was about to happen.
The footsteps came to a halt right beside her hiding spot. A heavy, absolute silence settled over the cavernous room.
Slowly, she opened her eyes.
Vincent Cross stood at the end of the aisle. His suit jacket was gone. He wore charcoal trousers and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. A glass of ice water rested in one hand. His dark hair, usually slicked back immaculate, had fallen slightly across his forehead. He looked exhausted, almost human, but his dark eyes remained cold and ruthlessly observant.
He looked down at her. Fay looked up, horrified.
She scrambled frantically to her feet, her knees cracking against the hard floor in protest. The frozen peas slipped from her grasp and landed on the tile with a dull thud.
"Mr. Cross," she rasped, her voice sounding like crushed gravel. "I apologize. I was just... cleaning. I’ll leave immediately."
May you like
She bowed her head, presenting only the unbruised side of her face, and tried to edge past him.
Vincent did not move an inch.
