Chương 8 - THE DISSOLVING ARROGANCE
David Kesler’s face instantly lost every drop of its color.
The arrogant sneer that had defined his features for five years dissolved in a fraction of a second, leaving his skin a sickly, paper-white gray. His knees visibly buckled, his hands shaking so violently that the silver pen slipped from his fingers, clattering loudly against the floor.
"M-Mr..." David choked out, his voice squeaking like a frightened child's. "Mr... Mr. Roman... sir..."
David couldn't even finish the name. His throat closed up in pure, unadulterated panic.
Naen looked between the two men, her dark eyes wide with complete, total confusion. She had worked at L’Étoile Royale for two years. She had seen David browbeat wealthy businessmen, berate politicians, and act like he owned the city. She had never seen him look as if he were about to vomit from sheer terror.
Beside Naen, Chef Henri leaned over the prep counter, his voice trembling as he whispered under his breath so softly only Naen could hear.
"Oh, God..." Henri rasped, his face pale. "Oh, dear God in heaven..."
"Henri," Naen whispered back frantically, keeping her voice low. "Who is he? What's happening?"
Henri didn't answer her. He merely shook his head, staring at the floorboards, refusing to meet Roman’s eyes as if looking directly at the man might invite destruction.
Roman took one slow, deliberate step forward.
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The three large security men behind him didn't move a muscle, but their very posture signaled that one word from the injured man in the white shirt would flatten the building.
Every chef, line cook, host, and busser in the kitchen instantly stepped backward, pressing their backs against the stainless steel appliances, clearing a wide, unobstructed path between Roman and the terrified manager.
