Who Gave You That Bracelet The Mafia Boss Demanded — Her Answer Made Him Go Crazy With Jealousy
Автор: Mafia Guardian Stories
Загружено: 2025-12-20
Просмотров: 341
Описание:
The morning I meet Dante Moretti, I'm running on four hours of sleep and my third cup of burnt coffee from the hospital vending machine. My hands shake slightly as I tie the black apron around my waist, and I catch my reflection in the polished chrome of the industrial refrigerator—dark circles under my eyes, hair pulled back so tight it gives me a headache, the same tired face I've worn for the past eight months.
Eight months since I buried my baby brother.
Eight months since the drunk driver ran the red light.
Eight months since I became a twenty-six-year-old woman with nothing but debt, grief, and a simple silver bracelet I'll never take off.
My fingers unconsciously move to touch it now, the worn metal warm against my wrist. Three interlocking rings—one for each of us. Mom, me, and Lucas. Except Mom's ring will stay empty forever, and Lucas's represents a seventeen-year-old boy who'll never graduate high school, never go to college, never become the architect he dreamed of being.
"Aria, table twelve needs water," Marco's voice cuts through my thoughts. He's the floor manager at Stellina, this upscale Italian restaurant in Manhattan where I've worked for the past three years. "And you're on the private dining room tonight."
My stomach drops. "What? That's Vincent's section."
"Vincent called out sick." Marco's eyes are sympathetic but firm. "Look, I know you're exhausted, but this is a VIP party. Seven guests. In and out in two hours. The tip alone will probably cover your rent."
I need that tip. Lucas's hospital bills didn't die with him—they transferred to me, his legal guardian, his only family after Mom passed two years ago. Seventy-three thousand dollars in medical debt that follows me like a shadow, eating thirty percent of every paycheck, making it impossible to save, to breathe, to do anything but survive.
"Okay," I say quietly. "What time?"
"They're arriving at eight. It's seven forty-five now." He squeezes my shoulder. "You've got this. Just remember—these people, they're connected. Be professional, be invisible, and whatever you do, don't ask questions about their business."
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