Page 15 of Ruthless Mafia Heir

That’s what I need to keep telling myself, that no matter how many times I’ve turned over the conversation we had in my head, he’s just a guy. Whatever Blake is doing behind the scenes, whatever is going on beneath the surface, he doesn’t control what I do or who I am. If he thinks he can intimidate me into dropping everything because he got me this job, he’s sorely mistaken. I want to know who the hell I’m working for—and just what this restaurant is a front for.

It’s been three weeks since I started working here, and I’ve been spending more time in this place than I have in my dorm room. At least, that’s what it feels like. My studies seem to be back on track after they miraculously managed to find the essays that had gone missing before, so I can dedicate my time to solving the strange mystery that’s going on behind these closed doors.

Blake’s warning should have been enough to put me off, but, if anything, it’s only got me more intrigued. There’s something he’s trying to hide here. But why would he have pulled me into all of this if he didn’t want me to see it? Why would he have gone out of his way to get me hired here if he’s so protective about what’s really going on in this place? It doesn’t make sense to me.

But maybe Blake isn’t the kind of guy who has to worry about making sense.

"Hey, you know Blake Devereaux, right?" I asked Raul one evening after our shift. His eyes slid away from mine, and he shrugged.

"I think I’ve heard the name, yeah."

"Do you know what he does for work?" I asked.

"Nope."

He stamped out his cigarette and ducked back into the place before I could press him for any more information, and I pulled a face. Another brick wall. But why were they so protective of him? What were they hiding?

Or what had he threatened them with if they didn’t keep their mouths shut?

He usually comes in on a Thursday evening to talk to Patricio, and that’s what today is. I’m hoping, if I play my cards right, I can pick up on some information that’s being passed around the restaurant, though I’m sure Blake is going to be on his guard after our conversation the other day. I know I was stupid to threaten him, but I didn’t take well to being spoken to the way he had talked to me, implying that he owned me.

It’s why, after all, I haven’t just taken out a huge loan to pay my way through college. I never want to be beholden to anyone, no matter who they are or how much power they have. I want my freedom. It’s that simple.

Outside, I can hear the noise of the restaurant filling up with people, bright with activity. I wonder if the people who are visiting tonight have any idea of the kind of person Blake is. Hell, maybe they work for him, I don’t know. Everyone seems nervous around him, even the mention of him is enough to make people draw back, like I might summon him by bringing him up.

I step out of the bathroom and plaster a smile on my face as I head into the kitchen. The place is buzzing already, and I glance at the table layout for the night. Sure enough, their usual spot is empty and waiting.

"I’ll take this side of the restaurant tonight, okay?" I tell Kyra, one of the younger girls on the waitstaff. She shrugs, glancing up from her phone long enough to acknowledge me.

I slip out into the restaurant and scan to see if Blake has already arrived. My heart flips in my chest. There he is.

I make my way over to him as casually as I can, keeping my face as neutral as possible. I reach the table and shift my weight from foot to foot before I speak.

"Can I get you anything?"

He shoots a look up at me. God, those eyes. There's something in them that burns a hole straight through me, driving into my soul.

"A glass of wine. Red. The house red." He speaks curtly.

I take a note of his order in my notebook, trying not to let him see how much my hands are shaking. I don’t know what exactly is in the air between us right now, but it’s almost more than I can take. Can he feel it, too? Is he just pretending he doesn’t notice it? A million questions swarm my mind, more than I would even be able to get out if I had a full hour with him.

"I’ll be right back with that, sir."

"Sir?"

He cocks an eyebrow, a flash of amusement crossing his face at the sound of that word coming out of my mouth.

"Yes, what about it?" I fire back. I’m glad Patricio isn’t here yet. I’m sure he would notice this tension between us, whether I wanted him to or not.

"I like it when you call me sir," he says quietly. I can feel the heat blazing up my cheeks, and I draw my gaze away from him.

"It’s what I call everyone here. All the guys, anyway."

"And I’ll bet they like it just as much as I do."

"What are you trying to say?"

He holds his hands up.

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