"My deepest apologies, Sir, Miss. I'll have this trash removed immediately," the manager stammered, bowing low. "Your meal is on the house. Please, let me know if there's anything else I can do."
Eliana didn't look at him. Her gaze locked onto mine, malicious excitement lighting her eyes.
"We don't need your charity," she sneered. "But since this filth ruined my shoes, she can clean them. On her knees. With her tongue."
The manager stiffened but didn't dare object.
Noah stepped forward—to onlookers, a concerned gentleman intervening in a dispute. I knew the monster beneath the mask.
"Miss Sanchez is right," he said, smooth as velvet. "A mess requires proper cleanup."
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked, forcing my head down to Eliana's heels. Pain radiated across my scalp as he bent close, breath hot against my ear.
"Refuse," he whispered, "and I'll drag you to the basement and train you right here in front of everyone."
Trembling, I leaned forward and opened my mouth.
Metallic tang of blood and dirt coated my tongue.
Eliana watched with sadistic glee. When the heel was clean enough, she pulled away as if granting mercy, then threw herself into her parents' arms.