CHAP 2 — The Man Beside Her
Sophia knew the name Adrian Russo because everyone in New York knew the name Adrian Russo.
Restaurants.
Shipping.
Private security.
Real estate.
Rumors.
People lowered their voices around him, even when they claimed he was only a businessman now. He wore a black suit with no flash, no jewelry beyond a watch, and no need to prove he belonged at the head table.
That was power, Sophia thought.
Not noise.
Stillness.
She sat carefully, tray hidden beneath the table.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “There was a seating issue. I’ll be gone in five minutes.”
Adrian looked at her, not through her.
“That sounds like a difficult job.”
Sophia blinked.
He had answered like she was a person.
“It can be.”
“Weddings usually reveal people.”
She almost smiled.
“They certainly try.”
His mouth moved faintly.
Not quite a smile.
Across the table, Victoria noticed.
Sophia felt it before she saw it.
The bride’s attention landed on her like a blade.
Victoria leaned toward the groom, Daniel Mercer, and murmured something. Daniel looked uncomfortable, then looked away. That small cowardice told Sophia more about him than any vow could.
Marla appeared near the floral arch, waving frantically.
Sophia stood.
“Thank you for not making that worse.”
Adrian’s gaze sharpened.
“Why would I?”
Sophia did not know how to answer.
Because many would.
Because rich people often used embarrassment as entertainment.
Because a waitress sitting at the wrong table was usually treated like a stain.
She simply nodded and returned to service.
For the next twenty minutes, she worked harder than anyone in the room. She cleared glasses, replaced napkins, helped an elderly guest find his cane, and quietly caught a collapsing centerpiece before orchids spilled into a senator’s lap.
Most guests did not notice.
Adrian did.
Victoria did too.
By the time Sophia crossed near the dance floor with an empty tray, the bride had gathered an audience.
Bridesmaids.
Two cousins.
A photographer pretending not to listen.
A few guests hungry for spectacle.
Victoria lifted one manicured finger.
“You.”
Sophia stopped.
“Yes, ma’am?”
Victoria’s smile widened.
“Come here.”
Every instinct in Sophia told her to keep walking.
But she was working.
So she stepped closer.
Victoria looked her slowly up and down.
Then laughed.
“Look at her. Even the catering uniform is begging for mercy.”
The bridesmaids burst into nervous laughter.
Sophia’s fingers tightened around the tray.
Heat crawled up her throat.
She could feel the room watching her body before they looked at her face.
Still, she lifted her eyes.
“I’m here to do my job, ma’am.”
The words shook.
But they stood.
May you like
Victoria’s smile sharpened.
And from the back of the room, Adrian Russo began walking forward.
