Before anyone had time to move, he grabbed Maya by the hair in the middle of the crowded restaurant, dragging her backward as if dozens of eyes were not already fixed on them.
A thick silence fell across The Copper Lantern, one of Boston’s most refined restaurants.
Crystal glasses glittered under the chandeliers. Waiters froze where they stood. Conversations died instantly.
Maya let out a gasp as her chair screeched harshly against the hardwood floor.
The pain was not the worst part.
The shame was.
Diners nearby slowly lowered their forks.
A server stood motionless, holding a silver tray with shaking hands.