Sophia nodded and hurried to fetch the wine list, ignoring the knot forming in her stomach. She reminded herself that, as a server, her job was to remain calm, professional, and gracious, no matter who sat at the table. This was the unwritten credo she and her colleagues lived by daily. Be invisible when needed, be supportive when invited, and always maintain composure. She took a mental note to check the cellar for the recommended Riesling that Chef La Mer had raved about. Perhaps it might please him and brighten his mood.
Returning to table nine, she carefully offered the list. “We have an excellent Riesling from the Mosel Valley,” she suggested, in her best polite tone. “It’s a 2001 vintage, quite rare, with notes of peach, apricot, and a mineral finish. Head chef Corin La Mer speaks highly of it. I think it would pair beautifully with tonight’s specials.” Ethan paused, then tossed the wine list aside as if it were a distraction. He had not once made direct eye contact yet. “Fine, bring it,” he snapped. “But let’s not waste time with the cheap stuff. I can pay for quality.”
Sophia nodded, forced a mild smile, and stepped away. In the brief moment she spent fetching the bottle and retrieving the correct glassware, she felt a pang of anxiety. There was nothing unusual about demanding guests, some even borderline hostile, but there was an aura around Ethan Caldwell, an electricity in the air that made her uneasy. Perhaps it was his wealth, or the swirl of rumors about his intimidating personality. Or maybe just the fact that she was new to serving high-profile clients at Leapon. Either way, she knew one misstep could lead to a nightmarish shift.
She meticulously carried out the bottle presentation, showing Ethan the label. He waved it off impatiently, allowing her to pour a small sample. He took a sip, pursed his lips, and nodded curtly. “So far, so good.” When she attempted to describe the evening’s specials, though, he cut her off mid-sentence. “Stop wasting my time with pleasantries,” he said sharply. “Can we just order? I have a meeting in twenty minutes. Bring me the Wagyu beef, seared rare, black-garlic sauce on the side. No garnish. And a side of truffle mashed potatoes. Make it happen quickly.”
Her heart quickened. Leapon prided itself on elegant plating, all meticulously arranged with garnishes and accompaniments, but she had no choice. “Of course, sir,” she said, keeping her face neutral. Turning to Aaron Welsh, she politely inquired what he would like to order. He looked deeply uncomfortable, as though he disliked the tension but was used to following Ethan’s lead. He ordered a bouillabaisse and politely thanked her.