Page 71 of Devil's Azalea

“Your waitress will be with you shortly,” he says as he starts to leave.

Sure enough, within five minutes after he’s departed, a woman in a waiter’s uniform steps in, holding a notepad and pen. “Good evening, gentlemen. I’m Tina, and I’ll be your server for tonight. Are you ready to order?”

I glance at the menu without really seeing it. “Just the house special starter for now. Enzo?”

“Same for me.”

Tina hesitates, then nods. “Alright, I’ll be right back.”

“She’s pretty,” Enzo comments when she’s gone.

“You can try your luck with her then,” I answer absently as I get to my feet and look around the empty ground floor, making sure I can see every vantage point from here. Perfect positioning.

“I wasn’t talking about me, damn it. I meant for you. She’s definitely your type.”

I raise a brow as I turn towards him. “I don’t have a type.” Besides, I barely remember what the girl looks like—just that she’s a woman and she has eyes.

Enzo shakes his head, but before he can say anything, a group of men walk through the front entrance. One of the staff tries to intercept them, but they push her aside and sweep in like they own the place.

Sergey’s men.

“We have company,” I tell Enzo, reminding him why we’re here. But he’s already seen them and moved to join me at the window.

Our host walks up to them, hands moving as frantically as his mouth.

One man steps forward—Viktor. I recognize him from Jason’s office the night of the ballet performance. He says something to the host, who listens for a few seconds before his shoulders slump and he steps aside, defeated.

Viktor signals the men behind him, and they begin a theatrical sweep of the restaurant, flipping tablecloths, checking under tables, inspecting the cutlery.

“How sloppy,” Enzo comments, and my lips tilt up slightly. It’s a security check, but they’re doing such a showy, half-assed job it’s a wonder Sergey hasn’t lost his life yet. Then again, he rarely leaves the relative safety of Long Island. The coward.

My men arrived here last night, shortly after we got the name, and they’ve been stationed here since—moving freely, dressed as staff.That’show you secure a location without turning it into a circus.

Once Sergey’s men are satisfied with the main restaurant, they move into the back rooms, the kitchen—and probably every other space in the building. I remain calm, knowing this section isn’t under their radar. They won’t be coming up here.

Sure enough, over thirty minutes later, they leave. A couple of minutes after that, there’s a short knock, and our waitress enters with our starters, looking frazzled. “I’m so sorry for the delay. There were some–” She stops when she sees us standing at the window. “Well, I guess you already know about the commotion downstairs.”

She nudges the door shut with her foot and brings the tray forward. Enzo meets her halfway to help. I remain where I am.

“That will be all for now. We’ll ring you if we need anything else,” I tell her as Enzo takes the tray. “Translation: don’t come in here again unless summoned.”

She blinks, nods stiffly, and slips out without another word.

“That was incredibly rude, Rafael,” Enzo says, setting down the tray. “Was it because of what I said about her?”

I give him a ‘be for real’ look but don’t waste breath replying. My attention returns to the window just as Sergey Volkov enters, surrounded by almost a dozen men.

Showtime.

His men scatter around the restaurant, taking seats at theempty tables. Minutes later, Jason walks in. They had met outside already before coming in here? My eyes narrow on the councilor as I take my phone out and open the transmitter app for the mic he should be wearing. He better be wearing the damn thing.

“Sorry about the slight delay. Lots of enemies, so one can’t be too careful.” Sergey’s voice comes from my phone, clear as if he’s in this section with us, as he takes the seat across from Jason.

“That’s understandable. Thank you for agreeing to meet me here,” Jason responds, adjusting his glasses.

“That’s okay.” Sergey waves a hand, and one of his men rises and approaches with a briefcase. He drops it on the table between them and retreats.

“Before we get into anything, this is for you.” Sergey pushes the briefcase to Jason, who stiffens and fidgets in the seat. Probably remembering himself in a video carrying a similar case full of cash—the same video that got him into this mess with me.