Her smile widened, and she sauntered over with the kind of casual grace that only someone used to luxury could manage.
"Ah, the little princess," she said in a sing-song voice. "I've been wanting to say hello. Your father speaks so highly of you."
Emilia tensed at the mention of her father. Martin, standing just behind the hostess, felt a cold ripple of danger wash over him. His eyes flicked to the serviceman who followed behind her, pushing a cart with drinks and snacks. The man's hands twitched slightly, just enough to give away his nervousness. He was no ordinary staff member.
Martin shifted his stance, positioning himself strategically between the serviceman and Emilia. He made no overt move, but his presence alone blocked any easy path the man might have had toward her.
