The Almighty Dominance novel Chapter 835

The Diamond Room was one long black table, twelve chairs and a wall of glass over the harbour. The last of the sun lay red on the water below.

Preston put Nora at the head of the table, the count on her right and himself on her left. Patricia sat beside her count.

Alex took the chair in the corner, next to the bread basket.

The food came without anyone ordering it. Lobster on ice.

Oysters in a silver bowl. A whole fish baked in salt, cracked open at the table, so the smell of lemon and the sea came up into the room.

Then a bottle of wine so old that its label had gone brown.

Count Charles turned the bottle to read it, and his moustache went very still.

"Preston," he said quietly. "What did your grandmother pay for the room?"

"Ten thousand." Preston leaned back. "Why?"

"This bottle alone costs more than your whole room."

Preston's face slipped. He looked at the lobster. He looked at the door. "They… they must know who I am. I am a hero for people around here. A savior."

Nora lifted her glass to him. "Preston. Thank you. This is beautiful."

"For you, Miss Hale," he said, smiling again, "this is nothing."

He turned in his chair. "Alex! You've never eaten like this in your life, have you?"

Alex had a piece of bread in each hand. "I had a very good soup once."

"Soup!" Preston laughed so hard that the count had to laugh too. "Listen to me. If you ever ate a meal like this before tonight, I'll cut off my own head and kick it into the sea."

"Please don't," said Alex. "It's a long way down."

Patricia set down her fork. "Don't be smart with Preston. You're eating his food, in his room. One more clever word, and you can eat in the car with the driver."

The door opened softly. A grey-haired man in a black waistcoat came in with a bottle held in both hands, the way people carry a sleeping baby. Silver keys hung from his belt.

"Good evening. I keep the Grand's cellar," he said. "With the house's compliments. The best bottle in my cellar, for the honoured guest of this room."

Patricia gasped. Count Charles was already on his feet, buttoning his camel coat over his rings.

"The house's compliments," he told the table warmly. "Naturally. A capital count at the Grand's best table, on his first night. Only a house of real class knows how these things are done."

"Charles!" Patricia's eyes shone. "You said the owner would come to your table!"

"The owner sends his bottle first, my dear. That is how it's done." The count held out both hands.

"Leave it to me, my good fellow. You've done very well."

The cellar master did not give him the bottle.

"Forgive me, sir. The guest I'm honouring tonight isn't you." He looked down the long table. "Which of you is Miss Hale?"

The room went so quiet they could hear the boats against the quay.

Nora lifted her hand. The cellar master bowed, poured her glass, then walked past the count and Preston to the corner.

"And Mr. Alex?"

Alex looked up from the bread, his ears going warm. Too much, Natasha, he thought. "Me. Sorry."

He set the bottle beside Alex's bread basket and poured. "The booking says Miss Hale and Miss Serena's husband, sir. The two of you are served before anyone else."

"Does it go with bread?"

"Everything goes with bread, sir."

Alex smiled at Preston. "Preston, you don't have to cut off your head. It's a long way down to the sea."

Preston went white.

In the yard, Nora had decided he was lying to look big.

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