Catriona's heart dropped to her stomach, unsure of how to respond. She couldn't abandon the customer, and she hadn't the income to pay the bill herself. She tried to steel her nerves. Griffin would have berated her for being so cowardly.

James gestured to the seat next to her. "May I?"

Confused at his gesture, she only looked at him blankly, not realizing until it was too late that he had intended to sit beside her. He then did so, the look in his eyes far too calm.

"P-patrick wouldn't leave s-so unprofessionally," Catriona stammered. "He'll ret–"

James laughed. "You don't know much about Patrick, do you? He's professional, all right, but only when it suits him. Hence why I need some extra convincing on this deal of yours."

James's arm came up to rest behind her neck on the restaurant booth. Catriona froze in place. She had experience with locals avoiding her because of alcohol and her accent, not pursuing her for it. The unfamiliarity paralyzed her.

"My soft spot for brunettes always gives Patrick the upper hand," James said, somehow a complaint and compliment at the same time. "Is that why he left you to do most of the speaking?"

His finger traced next to her ear, placing a single strand of hair behind it. She cowered, sliding back from his touch.

"Th-the wine speaks for itself, sir," she said. "And the winemaker is hard-working and reliable. I believe the wine will sell itself if given the chance."

He leaned in. "And what if I'm not interested in the wine half as much as I am in the woman selling it?"

"Then this would be a useless partnership," a third voice said.

They jumped and turned to a new member standing next to the table, hands in his pockets, eyes darker than the night outside.

"Griffin," Catriona breathed.

"And may I ask who you are?" James asked.

Griffin's lips puckered to one side. "Her employer. The reliable winemaker you have no interest in. Perhaps if I put on some lipstick?"

James chuckled, leaning back on the booth seat.

"We were just talking about you," James said.

Griffin snorted, looking between them. "I didn't realize my name was so arousing."

"I hear you have a failing business in need of buyers. It must be difficult with all these new laws floating about. I'd be willing to put in a bit if --"

"I have no interest in your bid," Griffin replied, waving his hand. "With your slimy hands on my employee, I can only imagine how slippery they must be in a business deal."

The man's eyes flared. "Now, that's not very friendly or professional of you."

"I'm not looking to make friends."

"Even so, you should be careful of the enemies you make in this business, mate."

"I suggest we neutralize our relationship here then."

Griffin reached for his wallet, leaving a stack of bills on the table. He then held a hand out to Catriona.

"Come," Griffin commanded. "This negotiation is over."

Catriona tried not to show her relief as she took his hand. He gripped back firmly, escorting her out of the restaurant and to his car. The silence was unbearable as he climbed in behind her and shut the door, telling the driver to head home. She could almost hear him grinding his teeth.

"I told you not to get involved," he finally said. "Do you understand why now?"

She looked at her folded hands in her lap. "I was just trying to help."

"By spending time with the one person I keep telling you not to spend time with?"

"Patrick is trying to help you –"

"He's trying to line his pockets."

Griffin looked out the car window, rubbing his lip with his thumb. All of Catriona's emotions churned in her stomach, jumbling any words she could have said in response.

"Do you think I'm incompetent?" she finally asked.

Griffin slowly turned his head back to her, eyeing her for a moment. The whites of his eyes and the outlines of his face and hand were the only things she could really see in the evening darkness, reminding her of the night they had met.

"No," he said. "But there are worlds that it doesn't pay to be competent in."

"As in?"

"Business like mine is a deadly game, especially now. Do you really think the Prohibition is just about alcohol? It's about who decides morality... and who can profit from it. Profiters like the man you met tonight."

He took a deep breath, allowing his words to settle.

"To be competent in a world like mine," Griffin continued, "means to play our games; to become as twisted as the other players."

Catriona met his eyes as best as she could in the darkness.

"Are you saying I can't survive in your world?" she asked.

He held her gaze for a moment, then looked out the car window.

"I'm saying you shouldn't be in my world at all," he replied.

He shifted his position, his shoulder facing her a bit more coldly. She looked down at her hands in her lap, resting against the high-fashion skirt she was wearing. Her eyes watered, the pit of her stomach clenching. She knew that she was worlds apart from Griffin, but to hear him reject her out of his world completely created an ache in her spirit she hadn't anticipated.

She could never be good enough to stand next to him like Rose did. Regardless of anything Griffin had said, that was what she had heard.

At this realization, the car pulled into the Griffin estate. Catriona raised her head, expecting to see a grand home that reminded her of the wealth, status, and relationship with Griffin that she could never have.

She was surprised to find that Mrs. Greene was outside on the front lawn with Rose, surrounded by police officers; the windows of the estate glistening in the moonlight as the glass lay broken and shattered around them on the ground. 

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