The Skin Thief

Chapter 23

"Well, for that I would recommend white wine, specifically the Nelopola or the Grand Farano."

"And for steak?" he asks.

"A red. Perhaps the Mirilan, or the Havilto."

"Hmmm," he replies and nods his head. "And if I say I am having a steak, rare, seasoned with basic salt and pepper and served with a peppercorn sauce, what flavour notes should I look for in a wine that would perfectly match?"

I laugh. "That is beyond my knowledge, sir," I say. "I can get you the sommelier if you would like?"

"No no no," he chuckles and waves his hands in the air. "I was just teasing." His laugh comes out more of a wheeze and the sound makes my toes curl.

"For goodness sake man, can you just order?" Owen growls.

"Fine fine," Mr Salt says and rolls his eyes. He opens up the menu and hums as he pretends to look through it.

"I'll take the house red too," he finally replies.

"Excellent choice sir, and for your food?"

They both order their starters and mains and I put the tablet away.

"I'll be back with your drinks very soon," I say.

"Yes, do hurry," Mr Salt replies as I walk away. Once out of his sight, I shudder.

By the time I get to the bar, Steve is already pouring the second glass of red wine, the order having gone through to his computer when I clicked it on the tablet.

"It's ready," he says.

"Thanks," I reply and stand there for a few moments.

"Er, aren't you going to take it?" he asks.

"No."

"You can't keep a man like Mr Salt waiting," he says with a scared laugh. I smile calmly.

"Watch me," I reply.

Mother's words swirl back in my mind.

"You don't want to come across too eager. Make them wait, give them longer to think about you when you aren't there. Make them know that they aren't the centre of your world and that whilst they are fretting and thinking about you, they are the last thing on your mind."

"Ivy," Steve says. "What are you doing?"

I pick up the tray and smile at him. "Relax, Steve," I assure him. "Mr Salt will survive his wine being a minute late."

Steve narrows his eyes at me and I grin cheekily. He shakes his head and turns to make the next order that is coming through on his system.

I balance the tray effortlessly with one hand as I walk back to the VIP section.

"Two house reds," I say, putting the glasses down in front of them.

"How do you balance that so well?" Mr Salt asks as I put his glass down in front of him.

"Practice," I reply with a friendly laugh.

"I thought you were new."

"New here, sir. I've worked at restaurants before." The lie comes out of my mouth with effortless ease.

"Ah," he says and grins and I try not to squirm at the sight of his grotty yellowing teeth.

"Yes, she's a very talented waitress. Can you let the poor girl go, she has other tables to serve?" Owen hisses. I smile politely at him.

"Yes," Mr Salt says, his eyes very obviously looking at my legs in the smart black trousers which cling slightly to my thighs. "She does seem like a woman of many talents." He grins as though it is the funniest joke he's ever heard.