Chapter 20
Twenty
Talia
Rushing into the back hallway of Tusk, I lean up against a wall and breathe out.
I let my eyes close for just one second, conscious always of the buzz of the dinner guests, the chime of silverware against plates, and the scraping of chairs.
It’s only Thursday night, but the restaurant is jam packed, and I just need a moment, a few seconds, to rest my aching feet and quell my nausea.
The restaurant is full of all kinds of different food smells, often combining and conflicting. Just a moment ago, I inhaled a waft of seared steak as a customer cut into it. I stiffened and ran for the back room, where I am hiding out in the shadows now.
"The manager is looking for you," a blonde waitress calls down the hallway.
I suck in a breath and push off the wall, determined to see my shift through. I read online that the nausea should fade away after the first trimester. Pressing my hands against my abdomen, I try to keep that in mind as I hold my breath while I walk through the restaurant.
Danny, a restaurant manager that I don’t really know, is waiting impatiently at the hostess stand for me. He brushes a piece of fuzz off his dark lapel and checks his watch as I return.
"It’s only seven p.m. You should be manning the host station or walking around the dining room, talking to guests, and clearing plates. I don’t know how much clearer I can be."
I swallow and drop my gaze, stepping behind the hostess stand. "Of course. Sorry, I was just taking a bathroom break."
He frowns at me. "No more bathroom breaks for the rest of your shifts. Got it?"
Red as a beet, I gulp. "Of course. Should I make the rounds of the dining room, then?"
He opens his mouth to berate me, his expression already antagonistic. But stops when a short, balding man in an expensive-looking suit gets up from the bench he was waiting on and walks towards us. The customer looks between me and Danny, his expression aggrieved.
"I was supposed to be seated ten minutes ago," he complains. "My date is very hungry. How long are we supposed to wait?"
Pursing my lips, I turn toward the customer and give him a bright smile.
"I’m so sorry that you have been waiting.
It looks like your name is next on the list." I run my finger down the waitlist on the computer screen, remembering his name from when he first checked in at the hostess stand. "Tanner, party of two. Right?"
The man scowls at me and crosses his arms. "That’s correct. I want to be taken to my seat now, if you don’t mind."
I gesture out toward the dining room. "As you can see, the whole dining room is full right now. But a few tables are finishing up right now. Again, I apologize for the delay."
"Well, what am I going to get for waiting?" He demands.
Danny cuts me a look and intercedes, putting his hand in between the customer and me. "Mr. Tanner, if you would like a complementary cocktail, I would be more than happy to go grab them for you right now."
"That’s not my name!" The customer says, his voice becoming louder. "That’s my date’s name. My name is Alex, and I want to sit down and eat right now. I see an empty table right there, too." He points to the chefs' table, a large twelve-person booth next to the host stand.
I jump in, trying to soothe him and explain to him at the same time that we have a special party booked for that table that will be here in ten minutes.
The party has a reservation with a star next to it, indicating that the chef actually knows them.
So, there is no way in hell that I can seat the complaining guest there.
"I’m sorry, sir. If you could just…"
The customer’s face grows red, and he balls his fists up. "If you don’t sit me at that table right now, I will rip you apart."
"Sir, she’s just trying to..."
"I don’t care what she is trying to do!" the customer screams.
My heart beats in my chest.
I don’t understand why anyone would make this big of a scene or what he could possibly hope to gain from yelling at us. Danny moves forward, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture. The man bats at Danny’s hand, causing Danny to back away suddenly.
I look between the two men, trying to figure out the odds of a fight breaking out right here and now.
At that very moment, Dare decides to stroll in the front door of my restaurant. He is looking around and taking in the scene playing out before me.
As the customer starts yelling at Danny, Dare strolls over, arching a brow at me.
He looks down at me with a little smirk on his face. "You don’t have to be here," he says coolly. "Do you want to leave with me?"
In the heat of the moment, I swear that I have never been so happy to see Dare. I nod tightly, my jaw tensing. My eyes mist up.
Dare holds his arm out to me with a cruel smile on his lips.
Taking his arm is the only natural solution here. So I do, stepping out from behind the hostess stand.
Danny’s head whips around, taking note of Dare.
"What are you doing?" He thunders. "We’re dealing with a situation here."
I swallow, my hand flying up to my throat. My other hand instinctively covers my belly—a new experience of just what being pregnant will entail.
But Dare doesn’t wait for me to speak up. Instead, he snarls toward the two men, moving forward aggressively. They step back immediately, their eyes glued to Dare’s exposed teeth. A vague look of horror splashes across Danny’s face.
Without so much as another word, Dare guides me out of the front door. As we are leaving, Dare shouts back over his shoulder.
"She quits!"
"What?" Danny shouts. But soon his voice is muffled by the front door as it closes.
Dare quickly strides just a few feet in front of me and reaches to open the door of his Porsche.
He looks at me, his eyes shining with a certain kind of mischief.
He tilts his head to the side, indicating that I should get in.
My pulse racing, I climb in the car, and Dare shuts the door firmly on me.
Dare climbs in the car and starts the engine; he looks at me with a smirk. "You know, you’re leaving behind everything you ever knew. This town is a tiny pond. I am about to open your world and let you swim in the sea with all the big fucking sharks.”
He revs the engine, a grin exploding over his face.
"What?" I ask, perplexed. “Where are we going?”
He loosens his tie, ripping it off and throwing it behind him. "To the airport."
"The airport? Where are we really going?"
He pulls off with a screech of tires, a mischievous look in his eyes once more. "Somewhere quiet where we can practice being engaged."
For some reason, his answer makes a flush creep up my neck. I buckle my seatbelt and bite my lip, looking out the window.
We arrive at the airport in record time thanks to Dare's driving, which takes us well over the speed limit almost the entire way. He drives me to a private tarmac, where a helicopter is waiting.
He turns off the car and then gives me a once-over, from my hair to my shabby dress and my booted feet. “Before I slide the engagement ring onto your finger, I need to know for sure that you’re actually pregnant.”
My cheeks feel hot. "How am I supposed to prove that to you?"
He jerks his head toward the small airplane hangar that we are parked next to. "There is a lady doctor inside that building, waiting for you. You just have to pee in a cup for now. Later, there will be blood tests. But all I need to know is that you are carrying a Morgan in your womb."
"I don’t really feel comfortable showing anyone a test. But if it will make you feel more certain about it, then I guess I have no choice."
He gives me a chilling smile. "You really don’t. I’ll be waiting right here for you when you come out of the hangar."
Heading inside the hangar, I look around at the soaring ceilings and the small private plane that is parked in the middle of the large space.
"Are you Talia?"
I turn and see the doctor, a middle-aged woman with ebony skin and a short bob hairstyle. I nod, and she beckons me, leading me into a restroom. She offers me a cup, looking at me sympathetically. "I’m afraid I’ll have to stay while you fill the cup."
"Really?" I ask. "Is that necessary? I obviously don’t have anything with me. I can’t mess with the results."
She gives me a sympathetic smile and clicks the lock on the door handle. "The sooner you do it, the sooner it will be over. Trust me, I am not getting any more joy out of this than you are."
I look at her, judging that she is telling the truth about that at least. "Do you mind turning around?"
She turns her back on me, and I go through the process of filling the little plastic cup she gave me, my face burning the entire time.
After I’m done and I’ve washed my hands, I hand the sample off to her. She has put on gloves, and she quickly and efficiently dunks a strip into the cup of my urine. Exactly one minute later, with me fidgeting all the while, she looks at me with a smile.
Pulling off her gloves, she announces, "Congratulations. You’re pregnant."
She produces a small trash bag, into which she dumps the gloves, the test strip, and the urine.
"Thanks, I guess." I give her a little side eye as I let myself out of the restroom. She follows me, staying right behind me. When she sees Dare, she gives a thumbs-up signal.
I hadn’t realized until that moment that Dare was nervous.
As he gets the signal from the doctor, the easing of the tension across his face is obvious.
He beckons to me, turning to the helicopter and points to the pilot, who is sitting inside.
The rotators start churning, whipping up quite a wind.
It’s deafening from here, and I put my hands over my ears as I run up to Dare.
"We are not leaving in that, are we?"
He slings his arm over my shoulders, which causes me to tense up. He leans close, shouting in my ear. "Relax. This is your new life. Of all the things you have to get used to, this is one of the easiest."