Chapter 3
Don’t touch what’s not yours
Kazimir
The man I know as étienne turns his head in the direction of the douchebag and laughs.
What the fuck is so funny?
“No, no, no, monsieur,” he says. “Not possible. You make mistake.”
My brows dip low. “For a guy who wasn’t even here when everything went down, I find it interesting you’ve already come to a conclusion without having all the facts. Were you blessed with the omnipresent gift?”
He wrinkles his nose. “Da what?”
“You don’t even know what happened because you weren’t here, yet, you’re throwing Harley under the bus.”
He comes and stands in front of me, the top of his head reaching my chest. He tilts it back and narrows his eyes. “I not understand American saying. And I not care. I am étienne Leveaux. I am manager. I am right.”
The Brazilian owner warned me about his eccentric thirty-seven-year-old French manager. He never mentioned he suffered from a god complex.
My nostrils flare.
Through narrowed eyes, I study Little Napoleon decked out in a turquoise-colored linen suit, complete with a paisley motif ascot. “You’re wrong.”
“Monsieur, this is not your business. You go.” He shoos me off with a flippant hand gesture.
I place my arms behind my back and adopt a military stance. “I’m going nowhere.”
“You go.” étienne stomps his foot. “I am dee power here.”
“I witnessed it all and I’m telling you, that guy is the culprit.” I point to the man who should be paying for the woman’s ruined suit.
Why the fuck is he smirking like an idiot?
“I saw it all unfold as well,” Erik says.
I glance over my shoulder at him.
“I didn’t know what was happening at that table, but it didn’t look kosher,” a man says.
A few people nod.
étienne lifts his arms over his head and claps. “Every people stop the talking.”
My gaze travels to Harley.
The devastation I read in her eyes hits me in the gut.
Dammit, I need to get through Little Napoleon. “étienne—”
“It doesn’t matter what you saw,” the douchebag says, interrupting me. “Harley is responsible for ruining a customer’s suit. Not me.”
A blush crawls up her slender neck and Harley seems to shrink in size.
“You’re going to pay for my suit on this clumsy waitress’s behalf?”
My attention snaps to the woman drenched in tomato and meat sauce. I glower at her. “I’m not going to repeat myself. I made you a promise, and I intend on keeping it.” So, shut your fucking mouth.
“This whole ordeal was unnecessary.” The douchebag’s words cause my teeth to clench.
“Yeah, you’re right.” My chest rises and falls. “All you had to do was keep your filthy paws to yourself.” Don’t touch what’s not yours.
My gaze lands on Harley.
Her eyes tear up.
Fuck.
“Harley make good customer to be hurt.” étienne is still spewing shit. “The hot tomato sauce it can burn.” He turns to face her. “Your work not good. You fired.”
What the fuck?
“You can’t fire me,” Harley says. “This was an accident caused by—”
“You late today—”
“By five minutes.” Harley frowns. “You called me on my day off at eleven-thirty to come in because you were short-staffed—”
“Yesterday, same. Late. Now, you burn lady.” Little Napoleon slashes a hand through the air. “No more talk. You go.”
I get in his face and tower over him. “You have no right to humiliate her that way and you have no right to fire her. You’re a scumbag.”
“I am dee power here, monsieur.” Those words reek of dictatorship.
I lock eyes onto Harley.
She lifts a hand up. “Drop it, Kaz.” With that, she turns on her heel and rushes out of the dining room.
I ready myself to go after her, but a commotion stops me in my tracks.
“NYPD! Everyone stay where you are.”
Who the hell contacted the police?
My focus locks on the douchebag.
He smirks as he waves his phone in the air.
Motherfucker.