Chapter 1: The Woman in the Red Dress
The waitress leaned across the table, smiled at Marcus like he was the only man in the room, and deliberately ignored the woman sitting right beside him.
“Can I get you anything else, handsome?”” she asked, letting the word linger just long enough to make her intentions obvious.
Marcus looked up from his menu. Before he could answer, his girlfriend, Nia Brooks, slowly lifted her eyes toward the woman standing beside their table.
The restaurant was one of Georgia's most exclusive dining spots, a place where crystal glasses glittered beneath golden chandeliers and the soft music of a live pianist floated between tables covered in white linen. Men wore tailored suits. Women wore designer dresses. Conversations stayed low, and even the waitstaff moved with polished grace.
But the woman serving their table had decided that tonight, she would be the center of attention.
Her name was Tasha Reed. She was twenty-nine, beautiful in a way she knew how to use, with long black hair, glossy lips, and a tight uniform that accentuated every deliberate movement she made. She had worked at the restaurant for almost two years, long enough to recognize wealthy customers and learn which men enjoyed attention from women who weren't their partners.
Marcus looked like one of those men.
He was thirty-three, broad-shouldered, impeccably dressed, and carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone who had worked hard for everything he owned. His charcoal suit fit perfectly, his watch looked expensive, and his calm expression suggested that very little could rattle him.
Beside him sat Nia, his girlfriend of three years.
She wore a simple black evening dress, gold hoop earrings, and her natural hair pulled into an elegant bun. She wasn't trying to compete with anyone in the room. She had come to enjoy dinner with the man she loved.
Apparently, Tasha had other plans.
“Actually, we're fine,” Nia answered before Marcus could speak.
Tasha's eyes shifted toward her, and a small smile touched her lips.
“I was asking him, sweetheart.””
The words were sweet. The tone wasn't.
For a moment, the table fell silent.
Marcus placed his menu on the table and looked at Tasha.
“We're good, thank you.””
“Of course.”” Tasha gave him another lingering smile.
“Just call me if you need something. Anything.””
She emphasized the last word before turning away.
Nia watched her walk toward the service station.
Then she looked at Marcus.
“Anything?”” she repeated.
Marcus frowned slightly.
“What?””
“Apparently, she can get you anything.””
He glanced toward the station, where Tasha was pretending to check an order while stealing another look in their direction.
“Oh,” he said.
“That.””
Nia waited.
Marcus reached for his water glass.
“She's flirting. I noticed.””
“And?””
“And I didn't ask her to.””
Nia studied his face. There was no panic in his expression, no guilty attempt to explain away something he had done. Still, she knew the difference between a woman being friendly and a woman deliberately trying to provoke another woman.
Tasha wasn't being friendly.
She was making a statement.
And she wanted Nia to hear it.
“I'm not going to spend my evening arguing with a waitress,” Nia said quietly.
Marcus reached across the table and touched her hand.
“Then don't. We're here for us.””
She squeezed his fingers once before letting go.
Across the room, Tasha watched the gesture.
Her smile disappeared.
She had expected something different. Perhaps Marcus would laugh at her jokes, compliment her appearance, or sneak a glance when Nia wasn't looking. Maybe his girlfriend would get irritated, and he would enjoy the little power struggle between the two women.
Men did that sometimes. They pretended not to notice the competition while secretly enjoying every second of it.
Tasha had seen it happen countless times.
But Marcus had barely given her a second look.
That irritated her more than she wanted to admit.
She returned to the service station and grabbed a bottle of wine for another table.
“You all right?”” asked Denise, a fellow waitress who had worked beside her for months.
“I'm fine.””
Denise followed Tasha's gaze toward Marcus and Nia.
“Oh, girl. Don't tell me you're doing that again.””
“Doing what?””
“Flirting with a man who's clearly on a date.””
Tasha rolled her eyes.
“I'm doing my job.””
“Your job is to serve dinner, not audition to be somebody's next girlfriend.””
Tasha's expression hardened.
“Maybe if women weren't so insecure, they wouldn't care.””
Denise sighed.
“You keep telling yourself that.””
Tasha turned away, but her attention remained fixed on the couple.
She had a reason for the way she behaved, though it wasn't one she shared with her coworkers. Growing up, she had watched her mother struggle to keep men who eventually chose somebody else. Tasha had learned early that attention was a currency, and the woman who received it was the woman who mattered.
Being overlooked felt like losing.
And Marcus's indifference was beginning to feel like an insult.
She wasn't in love with him. She didn't know him well enough for that. What she wanted was simpler and uglier: she wanted to know she could make him look at her.
Especially while another woman was watching.
At the table, Nia opened the wine list.
“Do you want the cabernet?”” she asked.
“Whatever you want, baby.””
She smiled.
“You always say that.””
“Because I mean it.””
He leaned back while she chose a bottle, and for a few minutes, the tension faded. They talked about the new house they hoped to buy, the vacation they had postponed twice, and Marcus's plan to surprise Nia with a weekend away.
He had been saving for it for months.
Nia didn't know that yet.
She only knew that she loved the way he listened when she spoke, even about things other people might consider insignificant. He remembered her favorite dessert, the name of her childhood best friend, and the fact that she hated being interrupted.
It was the quiet details that made her trust him.
Then Tasha returned.
This time, she carried their wine.
“Excellent choice,” she said, placing the bottle near Marcus.
“A man with good taste.””
Her eyes stayed on him as she spoke.
Nia's fingers tightened around the edge of the menu.
Tasha uncorked the bottle, poured a small sample into Marcus's glass, and leaned forward to hear his approval. Her perfume reached the table before her next words did.
“I'm surprised you don't come here more often.””
“We've been here before,” Marcus replied.
“Not with me serving you.””
Nia looked up sharply.
Tasha smiled as if she had made an innocent joke.
Marcus didn't smile back.
“Could you pour my girlfriend's glass, please?”” he asked.
The request was polite, but the meaning was unmistakable.
For the first time, Tasha's composure slipped.
She poured Nia's wine without another word.
“Enjoy your evening,” she muttered.
She turned away, walking faster than before.
Nia watched her retreat, then looked at Marcus.
“You really don't see how ridiculous this is?””
“I see it.””
“And you're not bothered?””
Marcus reached across the table again, this time threading his fingers through hers.
“Baby, I'm having dinner with the woman I love. Why would I be bothered by somebody trying to get my attention?””
Nia's face softened.
It was a simple answer, delivered without a performance. He wasn't trying to win an argument or prove anything to the room.
He was just telling her the truth.
Unfortunately, Tasha had seen him take Nia's hand.
And from where she stood beside the service station, that little gesture felt like a challenge.
She looked at the couple for several seconds, her jaw tightening.
Then she straightened her uniform, lifted her chin, and picked up the dessert tray.
If Marcus wouldn't look at her because she was serving him, she would give him another reason to notice her.
May you like
She would return to that table one more time.
And this time, she would make sure Nia understood exactly who she was dealing with.
