With a sharp gasp, Regina didn't have time to think. She sprang to her feet, rushing over to Waldo's side. Her hands trembled slightly as she grasped his, eyes widening in shock at the deep cut across his palm. Blood was steadily dripping from the wound, staining his skin as it trickled down.
Regina's breath hitched as she quickly grabbed a napkin, gently pressing it to his hand, her fingers moving carefully, as though trying to keep from causing him more pain. Her brow furrowed in concentration, but her lips were lightly pinched in worry, a small bead of tension in the corners of her mouth as she silently bit her lower lip. Was it fear? Or anxiety?
The waiter rushed toward them, but as he neared, Waldo shot him a look that was so sharp, so dangerous, the man froze mid-step, his face paling. He had seen enough high-society drama to know when to retreat, and Waldo's look was more than enough for him to step back, lowering his head respectfully before turning and leaving.
