Chapter 2 - The Art of Embarrassment
When Cassidy returned with the decanted 1990 Château Margaux, the energy at Table 4 had turned razor-sharp.
She poured the deep ruby wine into the crystal glasses with practiced, fluid precision. As she worked, her trained ears picked up snippets of their ongoing dialogue. Dominic was attempting to close a multi-billion-dollar international logistics agreement with Victor’s conglomerate. The deal would give Dominic exclusive access to shipping lanes across Eastern Europe and Asia.
Victor and Natalia were listening, but their expressions remained guarded. Every few moments, they exchanged rapid, soft phrases in Russian, intentionally shutting Dominic out of their private consensus.
Dominic had spent two years paying elite private tutors exorbitant fees to teach him Russian specifically for this deal. He spoke it reasonably well, but his accent was stiff, and he lacked the effortless cadence of a native speaker. He was dying to flex his language skills to prove he was in control.
More than that, he needed an outlet for his bruised pride.
As Cassidy topped off Natalia’s glass and lifted her tray, Dominic struck. He picked up his leather menu, held it out for a fraction of a second, and let it drop onto the table with a loud, heavy thud.
The sharp sound echoed across the nearby tables. Several wealthy diners turned to look.
Dominic leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his arms and putting a wide, arrogant smile on his face.
"You know, Victor," Dominic said loudly in English, making sure his voice carried through the quiet dining room. "There is a fundamental flaw with the American service class. Zero ambition. Zero culture. They peak in high school and spend the rest of their tragic lives carrying plates for men who actually built the world."
The dining room went dead quiet. Simon froze near the host stand, clutching his tablet in horror.
Cassidy stayed perfectly still, holding her silver tray flat at her side, her face an unreadable mask of absolute professionalism.
Dominic then turned directly to Cassidy. The smug grin on his face widened as he switched from English to Russian, speaking slowly and loudly so his guests would witness his complete authority.
"Я бы заказал еду, но боюсь, твой крошечный, необразованный мозг не сможет запомнить заказ," Dominic sneered in stiff, forced Russian. ("I would order food, but I fear your tiny, uneducated brain couldn't possibly memorize the order.")
He paused, looking at Victor and Natalia, clearly expecting them to laugh at his dominance over the staff.
"Так что иди и приведи кого-нибудь, кто хотя бы закончил среднюю школу," Dominic added, leaning forward with a cold glare. ("So run along and fetch someone who at least finished high school.")
The silence in the restaurant was deafening. Dominic sat back, smirking, waiting for the waitress to look flustered, blush, and scurry away in confusion to fetch the manager.
Instead, Cassidy slowly lowered her tray.
She took one deliberate step closer to the table. She looked directly into Dominic Pierce’s eyes, her gaze calm, cold, and entirely devoid of fear.
Then, she opened her mouth, and flawless, accentless, high-level diplomatic Russian spilled from her lips—spoken with the crisp authority of someone trained in intelligence services.
"Мой мозг прекрасно справится с вашим заказом, господин Пирс," Cassidy said smoothly, her voice carrying across the entire dining room. ("My brain can handle your order just fine, Mr. Pierce.")
Dominic’s arrogant smile froze instantly.
"Однако ваш собственный акцент настолько ужасен, а грамматика настолько примитивна, что я искренне удивлена, как ваши гости вообще понимают ваши бредни," she continued cleanly. ("However, your accent is so dreadful and your grammar so primitive that I am frankly amazed your guests can understand your nonsense.")
Victor’s mouth opened slightly. Natalia sat up straight, her eyes widening in absolute shock.
Cassidy didn't stop. She shifted her posture, leaning in slightly, her Russian shifting to an elevated, formal political register.
"И если вы хотите поговорить об образовании," Cassidy added, her eyes locking onto Dominic's pale face, "я окончила Джорджтаун с отличием по специальности 'Международные отношения' и четыре года переводила договоры для Министерства обороны. А вы, насколько я помню из вчерашней статьи в Wall Street Journal, только что потеряли сорок миллионов долларов на провальной сделке в Сингапуре."
("And if you wish to discuss education: I graduated honors from Georgetown in International Relations and spent four years translating defense treaties. Whereas you, according to yesterday's Wall Street Journal, just lost forty million dollars on a failed bid in Singapore.")
Dominic’s face drained of every drop of color. He sat frozen, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
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Victor suddenly let out a loud, booming laugh that cut through the silence of Le Rêve. He slammed his hand on the table, wiping a tear from his eye as he looked at Cassidy with boundless respect.
"Боже мой!" Victor exclaimed in Russian, grinning wildly. "Она только что уничтожила тебя, Dominic!"
