Chapter 2 - The First Strike
Cassidy’s internal database instantly registered the impossibility of the request. The 1982 Cheval Blanc had been completely bought out of Le Rêve’s cellar three weeks prior by an eccentric hedge fund manager celebrating a major acquisition.
An ordinary server might have stammered, apologized, or run off to find the manager. Cassidy didn't flinch.
"I sincerely apologize, Mr. Pierce, but our cellar was completely bought out of the 1982 Cheval Blanc just last week by a private collector," Cassidy said, her voice smooth, musical, and completely unshakable. "However, if you enjoy the robust, velvety earthiness of the Cheval Blanc, I can personally recommend our 1990 Château Margaux. It shares a remarkably similar structural profile, offers exceptional depth, and is breathing beautifully in the decanter right now."
Dominic’s jaw tightened visibly.
He despised being told no. But what infuriated him even more was the fact that the waitress had refused to cower. She hadn't stumbled over her words, she hadn't panicked, and she hadn't given him the satisfaction of looking foolish in front of his prospective business partners.
Across the table, Victor raised a thick eyebrow, a faint, appreciative smirk ghosting across his weathered face.
"The Margaux is an exceptional vintage," Victor said in a low, gravelly voice, speaking in English with a heavy Russian accent. "The young woman knows her wine, Dominic. Bring it."
Dominic’s face flushed a dull, mottled red. In less than thirty seconds, a mere waitress had corrected his order, and his primary target for investment had promptly overruled him. He felt the sting of humiliation in front of the people he was trying to dominate.
"Fine," Dominic snapped, glaring up at Cassidy with undisguised venom. "Bring the Margaux. And don’t spend all night dawdling."
"Right away, sir," Cassidy replied with a polite, immaculate nod.
She turned and walked toward the sommelier’s station, feeling Dominic’s burning gaze digging into her back. She knew human nature too well. A man like Dominic Pierce, whose entire identity was built on absolute control and ruthless dominance, would not let a minor public defeat slide. He was going to retaliate.
By the time Cassidy returned with the perfectly decanted Château Margaux, the atmosphere at Table 4 had grown noticeably denser.
She poured the dark, ruby-red liquid into the crystal goblets with practiced, silent precision. As she worked, fragments of their ongoing conversation drifted up to her. Dominic was attempting to lock down a massive European shipping and logistics contract, a supply chain network entirely controlled by Victor’s overarching corporate conglomerate.
Victor and Natalia listened in stony silence, sipping the Margaux and periodically exchanging brief, whispered observations in rapid, complex Russian, deliberately excluding Dominic from their private assessments.
Dominic had spent the past two years paying private language tutors an exorbitant fortune to teach him conversational Russian specifically for this exact business venture. He could speak it, but his vocabulary was rigid, his grammar mechanical, and his accent painfully American. He desperately wanted his guests to witness his linguistic prowess. More importantly, he was desperate for an opportunity to weaponize it.
As Cassidy finished pouring Natalia’s glass and stepped back, holding the silver tray against her hip, Dominic found his opening.
He slammed his leather-bound menu onto the center of the table with a loud, theatrical smack, ensuring the neighboring tables turned their heads.
May you like
Dominic leaned back, crossing his arms, a cruel, malicious smile stretching across his face.
"You know, Victor, there is a fundamental, incurable problem with the American workforce today," Dominic announced loudly, pitching his voice so the entire section could hear every word. "They are entirely uneducated. Zero ambition. No culture. They peak folding napkins in high school and then spend the rest of their miserable lives carrying plates for people who actually built something with their lives."
