Lila's POV
The dinner rush had settled into its usual chaos. I carried the next tray out. Four plates balanced on it. Rolland's restaurant filled up every evening the same way. Wealthy patrons and their people spilled across the white tablecloths. They demanded attention. I had learned to give it without meeting their eyes.
I set the plates down carefully at a corner booth. I was already turning back toward the kitchen. Then a hand closed around my wrist.
Oh god.
"Not so fast," the man said. He grinned up at me. He was broad through the shoulders. His shirt hung open. A heavy gold chain glinted at his throat. His face was flushed red from too much drink. He smelled like whiskey and something sour underneath. His eyes dragged over me. My skin crawled.
"Sit with us a minute. Pretty thin
