As Sophia disappeared into the kitchen to place their orders, she felt the tension throbbing in her chest. Other staff members whispered about the scene at table nine. Chef La Mer was particularly anxious, personally tending to Ethan Caldwell’s meal, wanting to ensure that if this rumored billionaire ever decided to invest in a new gastronomic venture, Leapon would be first on his list. Unbeknownst to her, the real drama was only just beginning.
While Ethan Caldwell sipped his prized Riesling, the rest of Leapon’s dining room remained a swirl of refined activity. Waiters delicately balanced silver trays, the pianist’s melodic tunes floated on the air, and well-heeled patrons murmured among themselves. Yet there was an undercurrent of tension creeping outward from table nine, like ripples on a pond. Sophia was busy checking on her other tables. She refilled a glass of champagne for the anniversary couple, answered a question about sauce pairings for the art dealers, and politely asked the solo diner if he would like dessert. Despite juggling multiple requests, she could not escape the looming sense of dread. She knew she would have to return to Ethan Caldwell’s table soon, and her stomach twisted at the thought.
When Chef La Mer rang the bell, indicating that table nine’s dishes were ready, Sophia quickly gathered the plates with practiced efficiency. The Wagyu beef glistened, expertly seared, with the black-garlic sauce in a small ramekin on the side. The truffle mashed potatoes were piped elegantly, though the garnish had been omitted as requested. Chef La Mer had not been pleased, but Ethan’s demands were absolute. Beside that sat the bouillabaisse, fragrant with saffron, tomatoes, and delicate pieces of shellfish. Sophia emerged from the kitchen and made her way through the tables, head held high. As she arrived at table nine, she gently placed the Wagyu before Ethan, then set the bouillabaisse in front of Aaron Welsh.
“I hope you enjoy your meal,” she said softly, stepping back to maintain the polite distance required. For a few minutes, Ethan picked up his cutlery and began to eat, ignoring Sophia entirely. She half expected him to bark some complaint about temperature or presentation, but to her surprise he seemed too absorbed in his own thoughts to speak. Instead, she watched Aaron’s discreet nod, acknowledging the quality of the bouillabaisse, and felt slightly relieved.
But just when she thought she might skate through the service unscathed, Ethan’s face hardened. He set down his fork, leaned back in his chair, and pushed the plate away in an abrupt gesture. “Waitress!” he barked, looking directly at Sophia for the first time. Her heart lurched at his commanding tone, but she approached, maintaining a calm demeanor. “Yes, sir,” she answered, trying not to let her apprehension show. Ethan gestured to the steak, his expression stormy. “This is raw,” he snarled. “I asked for rare, not raw. Are you trying to give me food poisoning or something?”