"Hanna, was it?"

The words are spoken without an accent. Relieved the silent treatment has ended, I look up and try to discern who spoke. The words sounded like they came from near the first two men, but the sound bounces and echoes in my ears. Their expressions give nothing away.

Am I really that nervous?

"Yes, my name is Hanna," I confirm, looking between the blond and the brunette opposite Anne. I wonder if anything I do will change their calculated demeanor, and try, then consequently fail, at staying as impeccably still as they are. I swallow and try to relax.

The dark haired man breaks the silence, pale green eyes gleaming as they flick to mine, "Forgive Lucien's lack of response. He has a habit of not talking when his thoughts are otherwise occupied. You'll get used to it." His lips twitch, as if they are trying to smile, but don't quite get there.

That would mean the blond I served first is Lucien, and the owner.

The lanky man beside Lucien continues, "I'm Hugh, and I manage all of Lucien's investments, including this restaurant."

I nod, unsure of what I'm supposed to say next, or if I'm supposed to speak at all. Before I have to make up my mind, the same hypnotic voice I heard before fills the room. Once again, I wouldn't be able to pinpoint its source unless I saw Lucien's mouth move.

"Whenever we conduct meetings here, I would like you to be our waitress, Hanna." Lucien pauses, bringing a hand up to rub the golden stubble on his chin. "I can tell you will be a fine addition to our staff. Welcome to the team." He stands, straightens his suit jacket, and extends a hand.

"Thank you." I step forward and accept the handshake. It's cold, not just in the briskness of his movement, but also in the chilly touch of his fingers. It's the same sensation I so often feel walking the streets at night. That same frozen grip clutching inside my chest when danger and death are lurking around the corner.

Despite my hesitation, Lucien maintains a practiced and professional hold—skin soft, like those of a man who never needed to lift them to get what he wants—but as I pull my hand back, he catches my wrist and turns it over.

Panic coils inside me. What the hell is he doing? He's going to see the—

My breath hitches as almond eyes roam over my wrist and hone in on several thin, white lines across the web of blue veins. He must have glimpsed them when I poured the water. My hand tenses as he continues the examination.

I hate when people notice. I never wanted to be put on exhibit.

Growing up I got so used to being treated like a prop, dolled up and carted off as needed—never acknowledged unless I stepped out of line—that I expected small details like my scars to be invisible. I kept them hidden well enough, and undetected,they didn't bother anyone.

"It happened a long time ago." My tone drops from the lightness it carried before.

"Yes, I'm aware of how long it takes for a scar to form." Lucien's jaw ticks as he rubs his stubble. From the reaction, I can guess I've either lost the job or come close to it. "Are there any issues I ought to be aware of, or need to handle on your behalf? All aspects of my staff's health, especially when it affects their performance or appearance, are of grave importance."

The hairs at the nape of my neck stand on end. "There are no issues."

Yes, a fresh wound cuts into my side under this uniform, but he didn't need to know that. I don't need 'fixing'.

Even though a part of me believes I do. I know I'm not whole, but that doesn't mean I'm not capable.

His gaze travels up my arm and locks with mine in a powerful stare. "I do hope you're speaking the truth. There's no reason to waste your blood—your lifeline. Not when others can benefit from it."

I blink at his words. That's one fucked up attempt at a pep talk.

He releases my wrist, but the imprint of his cold touch lingers. "You've been instructed on what to bring us?"

The relief of getting my hand back is short-lived. "No, all I was told was to take your order." I make another effort to grab the pad and a pen. "What can I get you to—"

Lucien exhales loudly. I shift on my feet. His attitude is wearing me down, and completely ruins the atmosphere.

"This is exactly why Magnolia doesn't attend to us," he goes on. "She is dependably forgetful and lazy, but she does keep things running, so I let it slide." I look down and hide my gut reaction to his abrasive tone. He turns to Anne. "Will you introduce Hanna to Kristi? She will be far more adequate in giving instructions as to our preferences."

Anne stands with a graceful sweep of her chair. I eye her, more wary of who she might be more than I was last night. She smiles, then motions for me to follow her out the doors. 

"Certainly. Follow me, Hanna."

People always seem to notice the things I think they won't, and miss things that are so obvious to me. Does that ever happen to you?

❤️‍🩹 Siberia