A Daughter Claimed

The front door opened.

Not with a show of force. Not with noise.

The room turned anyway.

A man stood just inside the Gilded Spoon, dark coat open, rain on his shoulders, two security men a pace behind him. He did not look around. He looked once at Gavin’s hand on Maya’s wrist, then at Natalie’s face.

He crossed the floor.

Every step seemed to pull the room tighter.

Gavin let go first.

Maya buried her face in the front of the stranger’s trousers and clung with both hands. The man set one hand on the back of her head and stared at Gavin.

“That was your mistake,” he said.

Gavin straightened. “Sir, this is a private—”

“No.” The word landed flat. “You put a hand on my daughter.”

Natalie’s mouth went dry.

The man’s gaze shifted to the boy at the hostess stand, then back to Gavin. “Who runs this restaurant?”

Gavin lifted his chin. “I do.”

“No,” the man said. “You managed it. Poorly.”

He reached into his coat, drew out a phone, and spoke one name into it.

“Felix. Acquire the holding company. Now.”

Gavin gave a short laugh that died halfway. “You can’t just—”

The man turned his head a fraction. “I just did.”

He looked at Natalie. “Miss Tate.”

She didn’t know how he knew her name, and that was the worst part.

“Get your things,” he said. “You’re coming with us.”