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I cupped her face, my thumb brushing over her cheek. "I won’t let them do this to you."
She sucked in a shaky breath and nodded.
Then she turned back to her team.
"Listen up!" Her voice rang through the kitchen, commanding. "We’re making adjustments. I need everyone to move fast. We don’t have time for mistakes."
The kitchen erupted into motion.
I walked out into the dining hall, scanning the crowd.
I spotted the host of the event, a prominent businessman, and made my way to him.
"Everything all right?" he asked, noticing my approach.
I gave him my bestcharm them into submissionsmile.
"Absolutely. Just a slight delay in the plating. In the meantime, how about some additional wine service? On me,” I said.
His eyebrows lifted slightly, but he nodded.
The waitstaff was quick to move, filling glasses, distracting guests, keeping things light.
And forty-five minutes later, the first plates were served.
Scarlett’s team had pulled it off.
Barely.
But I saw the way she kept looking at the entrance, her expression tight.
She knew Victoria Snow wouldn’t stop.
And for the first time, I saw something else in Scarlett’s eyes.
Doubt.
After the last dish went out, she stepped into the back, pressing her hands against the counter, her breathing uneven.
I followed her.
"You did it," I said.
She shook her head. "Did I?"
I stepped closer. "Scarlett?—"
Her hands clenched. "I’m so tired, Christian. Every time I fix something, somethingelsehappens. I can’t?—"
She cut herself off, inhaling sharply.
I waited.
She turned to me, her eyes shining with something dangerously close to defeat.
"I don’t know if I can keep doing this," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
My chest tightened.