Amelia’s heart pounded as she returned to the table, desperately hoping her plea for help was heard. For what felt like an eternity, nothing happened, and the waiter was nowhere in sight. Fear gripped her—had her cry for help been ignored?
As Amelia settled back into her seat, Jonathan’s eyes narrowed slightly. He noticed her gaze darting around the bar, and his demeanor shifted, suspicion creeping in. Sensing her unease, he leaned forward. “Let me take you home,” he insisted, his voice firm, almost demanding.