Soft Steel

CHAPTER TWO

Present

Marcus

I was not in a good mood. My day wasn't going as planned and it was pissing me off. Seemed like everyone within a 2-mile radius of me could feel that. Except the man in front of me.

"Stop glaring at me, Marcus. You found out years ago that it could do me no harm." Yep, this man - Leonardo Grant, my grandfather, I called him Pop, currently 75 years old. The man who had been both my father and grandfather since I was twelve years old.

"You are infuriating, old man." He chuckled, not the least bothered.

"That I know, my boy. You have told me that countless times. And I am not the reason you are having a bad day, so chin up, lad." My lips twitched in amusement. I loved my grandfather and I had no doubt he loved me too. A crash sounded right beside me making me turn sharply to the source.

"I am so sorry!" The brunette waitress apologized, quickly kneeling to pick up what would have been our order.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I blurted out, my mood worsening.

"I am sorry sir. I am usually not this scattered. I am just super nervous because things are not so..." Apparently, she was chatty when nervous. The rambling was hitting on my last nerve.

"Could you stop talking?" I barked at her. She turned big beautiful chocolate eyes at me and I saw tears swimming in them. Great! I wasn't usually an ass. I was just having a bad day.

"Now, my boy, she apologized." Pop said.

"She spilled coffee on my shoes!" I told him and turned to see her still on her knees, eyes on me, tears still in them. But they lighted with anger as well.

"I am sorry I spilled coffee on your thousand-dollar shoes," That was just about how much they cost alright. She got up, done with wiping the floor clean and picking up the items that fell, eyes spitting fire. Apparently, someone did not like being yelled at.

"In case you did not notice, you are not the only one having a bad day. I just dropped your orders which means I will have to pay for them. I don't care if your day is going worse than mine, you don't see me pouring that out on anybody."

"You are pouring it out on me." I said. Her eyes flared.

"Only because you deserve it! Now, on a normal day, I am a pleasant young lady." She gave me a saccharine-sweet smile and I heard Pop chuckle.

"But on rare days like this, I can get really unpleasant. And that will not be a good thing, not just for you to experience as a person, but also for me because I am here to serve customers and make them happy. So, I would appreciate it if you don't be an ass for the few minutes it would take to serve you." She finished and I took a good look at her. Light chocolate eyes, a smattering of freckles around the nose and cheeks, with glowing milky-white skin, she was a beauty. Her hair was a rich mahogany packed in a messy bun.

Oblivious to my perusal, she turned to Pop. "Hi, sir. I am sorry for the mess and the delay," A small smile hit her lips. "... and the tirade." Pop's laughter rang out and I heard a tiny giggle.

"I will get your order in a few minutes."

"No rush, sweetheart." She smiled at Pop, glared at me, and went away with her tray. I trailed her with my eyes. Pop's laughter drew my eyes back to him.

"What?"

"She stood up to you, my boy. That is not something you see every day. I like her." Pop said, his pale jade eyes - same as mine, only mine was more brilliant than pale - dancing with amusement.

"It isn't." I concurred. I ran together with Pop a multimillion-dollar business and I had hundreds of people bowing to me and kissing my feet. She didn't.

"It's nice." I said and Pop smiled softly.

"She has spirit just like your Grandma." Marta Grant who I called Nan was exactly like that. She had no qualms telling you to kiss her ass. But she was sweet, loving, and kind. I nodded and turned my head to the floor-to-ceiling window. Manhattan was as busy as ever. Bustling with people of all colors. It didn't matter that it was around noon and the sun was bearing down heavily.

"Here you go." I turned back to see our waitress had returned.

"One cup of iced tea, two croissants, and one coffee, black. Enjoy." Pop nodded his thanks and she turned to go.

"Hold on." Those big eyes hit me. "I was an ass as you said. And I was having a bad day. Still, it wasn't right to take it out on you. I am sorry." Her eyes flared in surprise before they got warm like melty chocolate and she smiled softly.

"Well, I did spill coffee on your thousand-dollar shoe." She joked. I c****d my head to the side.

"How do you know they cost that much?" She wiggled her nose.

"A thousand dollars is a very slight exaggeration. I know they cost about nine hundred and forty-five dollars." My eyebrows went up in surprise. She noticed it and grinned.

"My brother loves shoes. Especially Tom Ford's so I hear a lot of it from him. Enough to know that you are wearing Almond-toe loafers. You could literally be my brother's hero, just because of this shoe." I chuckled.

"I am assuming that means apology accepted?" She bent her head slightly to her right and smiled.

"Yeah, apology accepted. I am Violet." She introduced.

"And I am Marcus. That's my Pop, Leonardo." Surprise lit her eyes and her eyebrow went up.

"Marcus like Marcus Grant and you are..." She turned to Pop, a slender finger raised.

"Leonardo Grant, founder of Grant Enterprise. Ohmigod!" She turned back to me.

"I spilled coffee on your almost a thousand-dollar shoe!" She whispered, freaked out.

"Deep breaths, darling." I soothed.

"I think I need to sit down..." I started to nod my head.

"Or lie down..." Pop chuckled and I waited, knowing she was not done. "Or pass out."

"Are you done now, darling?" Chocolate eyes turned on me then she took a deep breath and smiled a coy smile. My eyes narrowed in response.

"Mr. Grant, sir..."

"Which of us?" I asked, my eyes still narrowed. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Pop's lips twitch. She held her hands together in front and smiled innocently.

"Mr. Marcus, sir..." Pop could not hold it in again. He burst into laughter. My lips twitched. Well, my day had improved significantly, thanks to Violet.