Chapter 7 - The Diner in Queens
The neon sign of Lou’s Broadway Diner buzzed with a low, comforting hum against the cool autumn drizzle of Astoria.
Inside, the vinyl booths were cracked, the chrome countertops gleamed under warm yellow lights, and the smell of fried onions and fresh coffee filled the air.
Scarlett sat in the corner booth, wrapped in an oversized knit sweater, her designer handbag tucked out of sight on the floorboards.
She took a massive bite of a steaming pastrami on rye, letting out a soft groan of pure culinary bliss.
"I haven't eaten bread like this since I was twelve years old," Scarlett confessed, wiping a drop of mustard from her lip with a paper napkin.
Lucas sat across from her, holding a heavy porcelain mug of black coffee, watching her with amused affection.
"Billionaires aren't allowed to eat carbs?" he teased.
"Billionaires are forced to eat micro-greens, sea bass foam, and tiny portions of lamb that taste like nothing," she laughed, leaning back against the red vinyl.
"My nutritionist would have a stroke if she saw me right now."
It was the first time Lucas had seen her completely relaxed.
Without the makeup, the diamonds, and the defensive posture of the boardroom, Scarlett looked young, vibrant, and incredibly beautiful.
"Tell me about your family, Lucas," she said softly, resting her chin in her hands.
Lucas swirled the coffee in his mug, his expression turning nostalgic.
"Just my sister, Sarah, and her seven-year-old boy, Toby. They live in Scranton. Sarah works as a pediatric nurse, and Toby spends all day building Lego spaceships."
"Do you visit them often?"
"Every other weekend," Lucas smiled. "I’m the cool uncle who brings him power tools and teaches him how to fix bicycle chains."
Scarlett’s eyes softened, a faint trace of wistfulness crossing her features.
"I don't have that," she murmured. "My mother died when I was six. My father lived at the office. Holidays were just corporate banquets where I had to sit straight and smile at foreign dignitaries."
Lucas reached across the laminate table, his hand finding hers between the salt shakers.
"You have a family, Scarlett," he said gently. "You just haven't chosen them yet."
Scarlett looked at their joined hands, her heart fluttering with a sweet, unfamiliar warmth.
Suddenly, the diner bell chimed above the door.
Two men in dark windbreakers entered, shaking the rain from their umbrellas, their eyes scanning the small dining room before locking onto the corner booth.
Lucas’s posture instantly shifted from relaxed companion to lethal protector.
He didn't make a scene; he simply eased his hand toward his shoulder holster, his cold blue gaze tracking every step the two men took.
"Lucas?" Scarlett whispered, noticing the sudden tension in his jaw.
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"Stay down, Scarlett," Lucas murmured, his voice dropping into command mode.
"Julian’s friends outside haven't given up yet."
