YELENA

I scoffed before I could even speak, my fork still hovering over my plate. The waiter she’d been talking to came back with her order, sliding it onto the table with an exaggerated bow. “Here is your food, ma’am,” he said politely.

Livia’s lips curved into that practiced, sweet smile, soft and shiny, like she was the sunshine itself. “Thank you,” she said to him with a silky voice. “You’re all very nice here.”

The waiter practically melted. “It’s our pleasure to ...