Chapter 8 - The Confrontation
Rebecca stepped firmly between Victor Marcone and Clara, forcing Victor to drop Clara’s hand.
“She’s Clara’s companion,” Rebecca said, her voice dropping into the same calm, unyielding tone she had used at the diner. “And you’re standing too close. Step back.”
Victor stared at her in utter shock. “Do you have any idea who I am, girl?”
“I don't care if you’re the mayor,” Rebecca said, her green eyes flashing with steel. “You’re impolite, you smell like cheap cigars, and you’re bothering a lady. Move along.”
A few nearby guests gasped softly.
Before Victor could react, a broad, heavy hand landed squarely on Victor’s shoulder, gripping him with enough force to make his teeth click together.
Roman stepped up behind Victor, his face a terrifying mask of dark fury.
“You heard the lady, Victor,” Roman whispered directly into Marcone’s ear, his voice laced with absolute murder. “Step back.”
Victor flushed with rage, shaking off Roman’s grip, stepping back two paces. “You’re letting a servant speak to me like this, Costa?”
“She isn't a servant,” Roman said, stepping side-by-side with Rebecca, his arm instinctively coming behind her waist, protective and solid. “She speaks with my authority. If you address her or my mother again tonight, we won't wait for Pier 14 to settle our business.”
Victor glared at the three of them, his jaw working furiously, before turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd of guests.
Clara let out a small sigh, patting Rebecca’s arm. “My dear, that was magnificent.”
Rebecca looked up at Roman. His hand was still resting gently on the small of her back, the heat of his palm radiating through the thin emerald silk. He looked down at her, his expression softened by something deep, intense, and unmistakable.
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“You’re absurdly brave, Rebecca Davis,” Roman murmured, his fingers tightening slightly against her waist.
“I just don't like bullies,” she replied softly, unable to look away from his eyes.
