Chapter Eight - EMMA
CHAPTER EIGHT
EMMA
THREE DAYS LATER, we have a particularly busy day at the restaurant.
I work the lunch shift as usual, and when we close for the afternoon, Boris shows me how to make golubtsy.
I’ve had cabbage rolls before. In fact, these cabbage rolls were the first thing I ever ate in Boris’ restaurant.
When I started working here, I told him I wanted to learn to make them one day.
The dinner service is busy, and as I’m serving my largest table, I see a recognizable face enter the restaurant, followed by a bodyguard.
My jaw drops slightly in awe at the imposing figure he cuts in the dining room.
He stops to scan the room, smiling when his eyes meet mine.
I motion to an empty table in my section, and he takes a seat.
“Privet, Ivan,” I say as I finally make my way over to his table.
“Privet, lyubimaya.” His greeting sounds incredibly sexy with his deep voice and accent. It sends a warm sensation through my chest.
“What can I get you?”
“Vodka, for now please.”
“Sure thing.” I turn away to go grab his drink and have to walk past my least favorite table of the night.
A large group of men who are dressed like frat boys came in about an hour ago, and they have been getting progressively more handsy as they consume more and more alcohol.
More than once I’ve caught them undressing me with their eyes.
I’ve been running back and forth all night for every single little request for this table.
I take Ivan’s drink back to his table, grateful to see a familiar and friendly face. “Are you having dinner on your own tonight?” I ask him with a nervous smile.
“Yes. What do you recommend?” Ivan replies. It’s a silly question, because I know he comes in here frequently.
“I love the golubtsy. It was my first meal here, and Boris taught me how to make them today.” I stop myself before I ramble about food.
“Then that’s what I’ll have,” Ivan says with a wink.
“I’ll be back with that as soon as it’s ready. Anything else?”
“Nothing comes to mind, but I’ll let you know,” Ivan says, the edge of his mouth turning up into a smile. As I walk away, I can feel his eyes watching every move. The action makes me blush like a school girl.
As I make my way back to the rowdy table, one of the guys apparently thinks it’s appropriate to get my attention my snapping his fingers at me and calling out “sweetheart.” I roll my eyes as I make my way to their table.
As I turn away from the table to get the refill they requested, another guy at the table grabs my arm and tries to pull me into his lap. I manage to shake him off and steady myself on my feet, but it leaves me feeling slimy.
“Don’t do that again. I’m not interested,” I tell him as I walk back to the kitchen. Ivan’s food must be ready by now, so I focus on what I can control.
I grab Ivan’s plate from the kitchen and return to the dining room, along with the drink refill for the other table.
“I hope you like it,” I say to Ivan as I place the food in front of him and give him a nervous smile.
“Spasibo, Emma,” Ivan says. His eyes narrow when he sees the other table, and I notice him flexing his fingers, as if he’s trying to control his temper. “I don’t like that boy putting his hands on you.”
“I don’t think they’ll be here much longer. They’re almost done with their food,” I reply while glancing at the frat boys. Ivan lets out a low growl.
I take the drink refill to the rowdy table, but this time things escalate. As soon as I place the drink in front of the guy who ordered it, he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me down. He’s strong, and his arm keeps me in place as I try to wriggle away.
“Let me go!” I say forcefully, trying to get out of his grip.
“No way, baby. You’re going to sit right here and keep us entertained,” he whispers in my ear. He and his buddies laugh like this is all a game.
I’m still trying to get out of this guy’s clutches when I see Ivan’s already on his feet and walking towards me.
“The lady said to let her go,” Ivan says loudly as he pulls me from the guy’s grip, then snatches his collar. “Boris, get out here.”
“Hey man, fuck off. I was just having some fun,” the guy argues as he tries to shake off Ivan’s strong grip. I don’t think he quite realized just how big Ivan is, because he throws his hands up in surrender when they are both standing, Ivan looming over him.
“What’s going on out here?” Boris asks as he enters the dining room. “Emma, are you okay?”
“This table has been rowdy all night. They’ve been verbally harassing me and two of them grabbed me,” I explain to Boris.
“You boys are done,” Boris says angrily at the table. “No one puts hands on my staff. Pay your bill, get out, and don’t ever come back here.”
“You heard the man. If I ever see you in here again, you won’t like the consequences,” Ivan threatens them in a low voice.
I watch silently as the men pay their bill and Ivan, with just his presence alone, seems to intimidate them into leaving a very generous tip.
Ivan then makes sure they quietly leave the restaurant before calmly walking back to his own table, adjusting his tie, and resuming his dinner like this was an everyday occurrence.
Did I really just see that? Yes, I did. Did Ivan really just defend me against a table of six drunken frat boys? Yes, yes he did.
The butterflies begin fluttering again as I smile at Ivan. I walk over to his table to thank him, notice his drink is empty and his plate has gone cold. I take his plate and tell him I’ll be right back.
The pan of golubtsy that I made earlier is still hot in the oven, so I prepare a new plate for Ivan and take it to him, along with a double shot of vodka.
“Thank you for earlier,” I say, placing the new plate and drink in front of him. “I got you a fresh plate. These are the cabbage rolls I made myself.”
“You’re welcome,” Ivan tells me sincerely.
“You made these yourself, lyubimaya?” he confirms as he takes a bite of the cabbage roll.
His eyes close briefly, and he sighs while savoring the bite.
When they open again, he smiles. “This is delicious. The best golubtsy I have eaten in a long time. Don’t tell Boris,” he says in a joking manner.
His praise does something funny to the butterflies in my stomach.“I’m glad you like it, I’ll leave you to enjoy your food.” I walk away and go to clean up the remainder of the mess left by the frat boys before they were thrown out.
Ivan stayed at his table for the rest of the evening. Boris came out to sit and speak to him at one point, and they looked like they were having a good conversation. Right before the restaurant closed, Ivan paid for his dinner and left an incredibly generous tip.
“Thank you for the meal,” Ivan whispers as he walks by me to leave. His shoulder brushes mine, and I scream internally at the sensation.
After closing and finishing up cleaning, I start to walk home to my apartment—but not before noticing that Ivan’s car is still parked across the street from the restaurant.
I wave at him and start walking, smiling to myself as I think of how he defended me tonight.
I also pretend not to notice when his car slowly follows me home to make sure I get there safely.