Page 153 of Heartless Mafia Prince

“Yes.”

“Minka,” she said, latching her fingers onto the crisp one-hundred-dollar bill.

“My father loathes the mafia. He’ll never let you date her if that’s your angle.”

“Minka, it’s a meal. I’ve fallen in love with the food. Can’t believe I’d never eaten here before today.” Glancing over my shoulder, I stared at Melanie. She was folding silverware behind the counter.

“Whatever,” Minka mumbled under her breath.

I turned my attention back to her. She shook her head as she wrote her sister’s schedule on a piece of paper.

The second time I was seated in her section, Melanie’s brows lowered as she approached. Shit, did Minka tell her I asked for her schedule?

“Back again?”

“Yup. What can I say? I love the food.”

Last time I was here I wore a dark suit. I’d just left a meeting before I arrived. This time, I wore a green polo shirt, khaki shorts, and white sneakers. It was a blistering eighty-five degrees today. I was looking forward to the fall.

She retrieved a notepad from her black apron. “I told you the food was good.”

God, her smile was electric. I’d do anything to see that smile every day.

“I told my friends the beautiful waitress at Soloman’s recommended the shrimp and grits. I told them they had to try it.”

Her deep chocolate cheeks lifted and her dark eyes sparkled. I was batting a thousand in the smiles department.

“Would you like to try a different dish?”

“Yes, you mentioned I think it was smothered-”

“Smothered pork chops.” She finished my sentence.

“How about macaroni and cheese and collard greens for the sides?”

I nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Would you like something else to drink?”

“Do you have iced tea?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.”

And again, my eyes fell on her ass clad in the black khaki pants. If she knew who I was, she didn’t appear affected by my presence. I remembered Minka said she was dating someone.

Melanie stepped over and placed the iced tea before me.

“When you aren’t working, what do you like to do?”

“My friends and I go out to eat. We like to go shopping sometimes, too. I’m attending culinary school next month. I know you asked what I liked to do outside of work, but I love to cook. If dad’s shorthanded in the kitchen, he lets me cook with him. Those moments brighten my day. His tutelage helps to shape me into a better cook.”

“Sounds like you’re a hell of a cook. Were you in college first then decided to attend culinary school?”

Her smile withered. “No, I graduated from high school in June. I’ll attend classes right after Labor Day.”

I tried to keep a subtle face.

“How old are you?”

---