Page 166 of Heartless Mafia Prince

“Thanks, Dad, I better get out there.”

I slammed my hip into the door, then tied my apron around my waist.

“Hey girl, you ready to make some money?” Annette smiled.

“Girl always. The tips I make tonight will bring me closer to having the down payment for my apartment.”

“Well let’s get it.” A huge smile filled her caramel face.

Her short hair was styled perfectly. Not one small curl out of place.

A lady sitting in my section waved at me. I scurried over to take her party’s order. After I was done, I turned to make an assessment of the number of filled tables on my side of the restaurant. I blinked twice as my stomach hit the floor. This couldn’t be happening. What was he doing here? And why did he have to sit in my section?

I swallowed past the lump in my throat as I stepped to the table and greeted him.

Remember to keep smiling. And appear unmoved by his presence. He’s too old for you anyway, Melanie.

Not that he’s here for you. Melanie, seriously! He’s not checking for you.

I didn’t know if I could manage waiting on him. The stomach acid swayed in my belly like a wave taking out a surfer.

If only I didn’t have to stare into his green eyes. They appeared different up close. There were golden brown flecks in them. God, he was a work of art under the bright lights. His medium length curls were tousled all over his head. Luciano’s angular jaw was defined. His eyebrows were heavy yet smooth. And those lips were undeniably kissable. I hadn’t even noticed he wore a suit. I was too focused on his handsome face.

The tailored dark suit hid his muscles I knew were there. The suit looked good on him. It complimented his broad shoulders.

I smiled so hard; I swear my face would crack any minute now.

His lips were moving. Focus Melanie. Wait, did this man just ask if we had chimichangas?

My brows rose. “What?”

He glanced at the menu.

“You don’t make chimichangas?”

“This is a soul food restaurant. If you want Mexican food, you’ll have to go up the street for that.”

He raised his hands. “Ok. What do you suggest?”

He was a real character.

I stepped beside him and flipped to the second page of the menu.

Please keep your hand steady, Melanie.

“Daddy makes the best fried chicken in Philly.”

“Is that your favorite?”

I smiled. “My favorite is the smothered pork chops. But if I have a taste for seafood, I’d go with the fried catfish.” “Oh, and the shrimp and grits...” I tilted my head back. “...are fantastic.”

“I’ll have the shrimp and grits.”

I grinned. “Good choice.” I stepped back to the side of the table.

“How about a glass of lemonade?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

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