She Threw Poisoned Hot Coffee at The Millionaire

CHAPTER 1 - THE COFFEE

"What the hell are you doing?"

The whole diner heard it.

One second, I was standing beside the red-brown leather booth with a full coffee pot in my hand. The next, I was dumping hot coffee straight onto Dom Bozack's expensive dark gray suit.

Coffee splashed across his black shirt and dripped to the black-and-white tile floor.

My hand shook so hard I nearly dropped the pot.

The man in the dark brown leather jacket lunged at me at once. He grabbed my wrist so hard I bit back a cry. His fingers dug into my skin.

"Let her go," Dom said.

He didn't raise his voice.

He didn't need to.

The man loosened his grip, but he stayed close enough to block me. I could smell rain and cigarette smoke on his jacket. Dom sat very still in the booth, wet and furious in a way that looked colder than shouting.

He lifted his eyes to me.

"Why did you do that?"

My throat was dry. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt.

"That coffee was poisoned."

For a moment, nobody moved.

The leather-jacket man gave a laugh too quick to be real. "She's insane, Dom."

I swallowed and forced myself to point.

"Ask him what's in his pocket."

Dom turned his head slowly.

The man touched his coat pocket without meaning to. Just once. But that was enough. His face had gone pale under the diner lights.

"Why are you shaking?" Dom asked.

"I'm not."

Dom reached into his inside pocket, pulled out a thick stack of cash, and slapped it on the table beside the glass salt shaker, the pepper bottle, and the open menu.

"Keep the change."

Then he stood. Tall. Broad. Dangerous.

He came so close I stopped breathing.

"That's it?" I asked.

His gaze stayed on me for half a second too long. "That is all for tonight."

He walked out into the rain.

Ten minutes later, I stood outside with my paper takeout bag in one hand, staring at a black car by the curb while a driver opened the back door.

"Am I being kidnapped?" I whispered.

The driver lowered his head. "Mr. Bozack wants to see you."

When I looked into the dark back seat, I wasn't expecting to find Dom.

I was expecting him even less with a gray-haired woman beside him, holding a photograph of my mother.

"Get in, Nora," she said. "We need to talk about Elena."