Aurora’s POV
By five o'clock in the afternoon, the wind off the bay was biting cold.
I stood outside the back service entrance of the Grand Horizon Hotel. The big building sat high on the hill, looking down over the dirty harbor.
I pulled the white server cap low over my brow, took a breath, and pushed the heavy metal door open.
The kitchen was hot and full of steam. Cooks shouted orders, pans clattered, and rows of carts stood by the doors.
A tall chef walked up to me with a clipboard, looking at my black dress, white apron, and scuffed shoes.
“You're Briggs’s girl?” he barked.
“Yes, sir,” I said, keeping my chin down. “Rose.”
“Table One,” he ordered, pointing a spoon at a cart with red wine and crystal glasses. “The center table under the chandelier. That is the owner’s family. D
