Completely Obsessed

CHAPTER FIVE

Valerian’s POV

The legal meeting ended at exactly six in the evening.

I closed the folder in front of me and leaned back in my chair.

“Anything else?” I asked. Ethan glanced at his tablet. “Nothing urgent, sir.”

“Good.” I stood and adjusted the cuffs of my shirt. The Crimson Table. I still wasn't convinced there was any reason for me to personally inspect the restaurant. My mother had insisted, and apparently, I had agreed to come. That was enough of a reason to get it over with. Just as I reached for my coat, my phone rang. It was my mother. I answered the call. “Valerian,” she said. “I wanted to let you know that we’re moving our dinner to tomorrow.”

“Why?” I asked “I need you to check whether the restaurant is clear and suitable first,” she replied. “Make sure everything is in order before we have dinner there.” I glanced toward Ethan. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll inspect it tonight.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The call ended. I slipped my phone into my pocket. “Let's go.” Ethan followed me out of the office. By the time I arrived at The Crimson Table, the evening crowd had already begun to fill the restaurant. Warm lights reflected off the polished tables, and the quiet hum of conversations filled the room.

The moment I stepped through the entrance, a man in a suit immediately approached me. “Mr. Moretti.” I looked at him.

He was probably in his fifties, dressed neatly, with a nervous smile on his face. “I'm Anderson, the branch manager. It's an honor to—” I walked past him. I heard Ethan clear his throat behind me. Mr. Anderson quickly followed. “I apologize, sir. I wasn't expecting you tonight.”

“I didn't announce my visit.”

“No, sir.”

I stopped for a moment and glanced at him. "Then you shouldn't have been expecting me.” His smile disappeared slightly. “Yes, sir.” I continued walking. I wasn't here to socialize. My eyes moved across the restaurant, taking in the employees, the tables, the service, and everything else that could tell me whether this place was being properly managed. Then I noticed her A young woman stood beside one of the tables. She was holding a notepad in one hand while a customer sat across from her. At first, I didn't pay much attention Then I heard the man's voice. “Are you seriously telling me this is the best you can do?” The woman lowered her head slightly. “I apologize, sir.”

“You should. I've been waiting forever.”

“I understand.”

“You don't understand anything.”

The customer continued speaking, his voice loud enough for several people nearby to hear. She didn't argue. She didn't defend herself. She simply stood there and listened.

Then, unexpectedly, she smiled. Not a mocking smile.

Not an irritated one. Just a small, polite smile. “I'm sorry for the inconvenience, sir. I'll make sure everything is taken care of.” The man scoffed. He paid his bill and stood. As he walked away, she waited until he was gone before returning to the table. She began clearing the dishes. I watched her for a moment longer.

There was something strange about the way she handled humiliation. Most people would have been angry. She wasn't. She simply continued working. “Nairobi.” I heard someone call her name. She turned. “Yes?” A waitress pointed toward another table. “Table seven needs cleaning.”

“Okay.” She nodded and continued gathering the dishes. I looked away. It shouldn't have interested me. And yet, my eyes followed her again. A few minutes later, she carried a tray filled with empty glasses toward the kitchen. She was almost there when three young female employees stepped into her path. They were laughing. Nairobi slowed down. “Excuse me,” she said politely. The three girls exchanged looks. One of them stepped aside. Then another. But the third girl didn't.

Brianna. I heard someone call her name. She looked directly at Nairobi. Then, with a small movement of her foot, she stepped in front of Nairobi. Nairobi's foot caught against hers. Everything happened at once. The tray tilted.Several glasses slipped. They crashed onto the floor.The sound echoed through the restaurant. Nairobi froze.The three girls gasped. “Oh my God,” Brianna said. “I didn't mean to do that.”

“Are you okay?” another girl asked. Their voices sounded concerned. But their faces told a different story. They were trying not to laugh. Nairobi looked down at the broken glass. Then she looked at them. “I'm fine.” She smiled. Again. She crouched down and began picking up the pieces.

I frowned. Why was she smiling? She had just been humiliated by a customer, and now someone had deliberately tripped her. Yet she still smiled. “Hey!” Mr. Anderson's voice cut through the room. He hurried toward them. “What happened here?” Brianna immediately stepped back. “She dropped the glasses, sir.”

I looked at her. That wasn't what happened. Mr. Anderson looked at the broken glass. Then his eyes landed on Nairobi. “Nairobi, what were you thinking?” She looked up. “I'm sorry, sir.” “You know how much these glasses cost?” “No, sir.”

“This is coming out of your salary.” Her smile disappeared for a second. “Yes, sir.” “And don't just stand there. Pick everything up and clean the floor.” “Yes, sir.” She lowered her head and continued picking up the pieces. The three girls stood nearby. Mr. Anderson turned toward them. “And what are you three doing standing around?” They straightened immediately. “Go back to work.” “Yes, sir.”The girls hurried away. Mr. Anderson sighed and turned toward me.

“I sincerely apologize for that, Mr. Moretti.” I said nothing. He cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should continue the tour.” I glanced once more at Nairobi. She was still on the floor, carefully picking up the broken glass. There was a small cut on her finger. She didn't seem to notice. Or perhaps she simply didn't care. I turned away. “Continue.” Mr. Anderson nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.” He began showing me the restaurant.

The kitchen.

The private dining area.

The storage rooms.

The wine cellar.

The staff area.

I listened while he explained everything, but my attention kept drifting back toward the dining room. Toward her. I didn't understand why. She was just an employee. Nothing more. After the dinner service finally ended, the restaurant became quieter. Mr. Anderson gathered all the employees near the front of the restaurant. I stood beside him. The employees lined up, looking curious and nervous. Mr. Anderson cleared his throat. “Everyone, I want your attention.” The room became silent. “Tonight, we have a very important guest.” Everyone looked toward me.

“This is Mr. Valerian Hawthorn Moretti, the CEO of Moretti Holdings and one of the owners behind this establishment.” A few employees exchanged surprised looks. I remained expressionless. Mr. Anderson continued. “Mr. Moretti is here tonight to inspect the restaurant and make sure everything is running properly.” My eyes moved across the line of employees. Then they stopped. Nairobi.

She stood near the end of the line, her hands folded neatly in front of her.Her eyes met mine. For the first time that evening, she didn't smile. She simply looked at me. And for some reason, I couldn't look away. I didn't know her. I didn't know anything about her. But I had a strange feeling that meeting her wasn't going to be as insignificant as I had first thought. And I hated that feeling. Because I had spent years making sure nothing—and no one—could disrupt the control I had over my life. Yet somehow, a woman working at a restaurant had already managed to get my attention.

And that was something I didn't intend to allow.