He takes the tray to the kitchen and puts it down. Then he points at one of the chefs. “You. Make a sandwich.”
Oh. Maybe he’s here not because I looked like I was about to faint, but because he didn’t get anything to eat in the ballroom. I can’t decide if I’m disappointed or not.
The chef stares at him blankly, probably stunned that a stranger is bossing him around in his kitchen. He quickly regains his composure and bristles. “Who are you?”
Tolyan gives him a lazy look. “The person signing off on the bill for the event tonight.”
Is he in charge of the Pryce Family Foundation? How…unexpected. I thought the blonde who made speeches was the one running the show.
“Okay,” the chef says, slightly mollified. “What do you want on it?”
Tolyan looks at me. “Allergies or anything you don’t like?”
“Me?” I squeak.
A hint of amusement flashes in his pale eyes. “You.”
“Well, uh…nothing. I like everything.”
He turns to the chef. “You heard the girl. Toasted whole grain bread. Loads of roast beef, four strips of bacon, lettuce and tomato. Mild Swiss. Horseradish sauce. No mayo. Steak fries with ketchup. Plus sparkling pear cider to drink.” Tolyan might as well own the hotel.
The chef grunts grumpily, but makes a tall sandwich with fries and puts the whole thing on a clean white plate, which he places on a tray. Another staff member places an elegant glass of fizzy drink next to it.
Tolyan takes the tray and starts to walk away from the kitchen. When I stay rooted to the spot and stare, he crooks his index finger. “Come.”
I follow, managing to match his pace. He turns into a small hallway, moving like he knows exactly where he’s going, then opens a door. We’re in a smaller ballroom, not the main one. It’s empty, but set up with tables and chairs.
“Sit,” he says, setting down the tray on one of the tables.
His steely voice doesn’t invite a refusal. I park my butt in the indicated chair, then look at the plate in front of me. The smell of the bread and beef is getting to me, and my mouth waters. But instead of reaching for the food like I’m itching to, I look up at Tolyan. He remains standing, towering over me. His eyes grow cooler as time ticks by.
“Eat,” he says finally.
“You want me to eat this?” I squeak like an idiot. I guess I understood he was getting the food for me at the kitchen, but it’s just…weird to receive this type of thoughtful kindness from a man who is looking at me with such cold eyes. In my experience, when people want to feed someone, they tend to smile and appear a lot friendlier.
“Yes. You’re hungry, aren’t you?”
I clear my throat. “I’m supposed to be working.”
He gives me a mildly assessing look. Why does that make him seem like a candy-house witch trying to decide how much fattening she needs to do to Hansel and Gretel? “Who’s your supervisor?”
“Mina.”
He pulls out his phone and taps on the screen a few times. Then he flips it so I can read it.
–Me: I’m borrowing one of your employees for half an hour. Angelika’s her name.
–Mina: Sure, that’s fine.
Of course she’d say it’s fine. She told me how important the foundation’s business is.
“Now your next thirty minutes belong to me.” He arches an eyebrow, daring me to argue, but I’m not arguing with a man my boss prefers to suck up to. He gestures at the plate.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Understood. Now eat.”
“It’s a lot of food, though,” I say, in case he expects me to finish this giant manwich.
“Toss whatever you don’t eat.”
“No way! I haven’t had beef in months! I’m going to take the leftovers home and eat them for lunch tomorrow.” Crap. I shut my mouth, too late, of course. He doesn’t care about my grocery situation!
Tolyan gives me an odd look, then shrugs.
But you know what? Who cares? I shove aside my embarrassment and start gobbling up the sandwich. It’s so, so good. The bacon is amazing with the beef. And I swear, this hotel has the best bread, too. And the fries are so hot, so perfect.
As I continue to eat, tears fill my eyes. I can’t remember a time when I had food this delicious and filling. And all because this man noticed my belly growling and decided to do something about it.
The food fuels my optimism and courage. The third time really is the charm. And if him feeding me when I’m starving isn’t it, I don’t know what more sign I need.
“I think you’re a nice man,” I say, after I swallow a bite.
A corner of his lips quirks up, but his eyes remain unreadable.
“You helped me earlier, and now this, too.”
“The foundation’s paying for it,” he says flatly.
“Yeah, but it didn’t give me this sandwich. That was you.”
Something I can’t make out flickers in his eyes. “For a little fawn, you like to argue.”
“Huh?” Did he just call me a little fawn?
Tolyan doesn’t respond. A small frown appears on his face as he checks his phone and reads whatever’s on the screen. He puts it back in his pocket and starts to walk away.
“Wait! Where are you going?” I haven’t said a word about my proposal!
He stops, then looks at me over a shoulder, like he can’t believe I asked him that question. Or maybe he can’t believe I think he’s going to answer me.
“I have something to ask you,” I say quickly.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have the time. There’s an urgent matter to attend to.”
“But—”
“Eat. Then finish your shift and go home.”
I start to get to my feet. “But Tolyan—”
He vanishes through the door. I jump up, run after him and burst out through the same door.
But no matter how many times I scan the hall, I can’t find him. He’s already gone.
Chapter Five
Angelika
When the shift is over, I leave, the half-eaten sandwich wrapped carefully in my bag. I heave a sigh. Fatigue weighs me down, like an anvil chained to my ankle. It’s so unfair. I was so close to asking. Only if Tolyan hadn’t received that text—or whatever it was that he got.
He called me little fawn before he vanished. It’s probably a good thing. Fawns are cute. You want to aww over them and keep them safe. Only a huge, world-class asshole would want to hurt such a nice animal, and Tolyan isn’t one.
At least…I don’t think he is.
I pull my car out of the lot and make a circle…then almost scream when I spot the familiar figure of Tolyan tipping a valet and getting into a black sedan. I stop my car and start to open the door to get out and run to him, but change my mind when I see there won’t be enough time.
He’s already pulling into traffic. I should just follow and talk to him whenever he stops. I know it’s late, and he’s probably tired, but I feel like if I don’t ask him before the day’s over, it’s never going to happen.
He isn’t driving too fast. I follow right behind him. He’s going in the opposite direction from my place. Maybe he lives on the other side of town. But he was on the jogging trail this morning—near my place. He could’ve been staying with a friend last night or something. Anyway, getting a minute to talk with him is more important than worrying about where he’s heading. We aren’t going into some dangerous section of the city, from the looks of it.