Page 23 of Savage Cravings

I didn’t know how to act.

I nodded but didn’t say anything when Brent, the server in charge of training me, talked about tonight’s special.

The manager at Ron’s Pub hired me on the spot when I came in and asked for an application. That should have been my first sign that there was something off about this restaurant.

But they were desperate.

Another sign I ignored because I was desperate, too.

I looked down at the gray shirt I wore, depicting cartoonish designs of monsters standing in a row. To make matters worse, right where my boobs poked out were the words:Monster Friends.

I hadn’t realized this was one of the shirts I had packed in my escaped bag. But it was the only gray shirt I owned, and that was the uniform here. Casual gray tops and jeans.

I would have to dip into the stolen money and purchase more clothes.

But that was tomorrow’s problem.

Tonight, I had to serve people.

“You got it?” Brent asked my boobs.

I scowled, and if I weren’t so nervous about this job, I would have called him out on it.

Instead, I crossed my arms over my chest and plastered on a fake smile. “Yup.”

“Cool. You get sections thirty-two to thirty-four. Three small tables. Tips might not be the best, but it’s an easy start.” He grinned, still looking at my boobs, as if the fucker had developed X-ray vision.

I let out a small, tired sigh. “Right.”

Brent pointed at my section for the night. At least, he took his eyes off my chest long enough to look at me. “Get me if you have any questions or”—his eyes gleamed, and I had to stop myself from letting the disgust show on my face—“if you need anythingelsefrom me.”

“I got it,” I said, a little harsher than I meant to.

“Whatever,” he muttered, walking away. I didn’t miss the word “bitch” coming from under his breath.

I decided then that I would much rather get fired than ask him for anything else tonight.

I took my notepad from my apron, ignoring the way my hands shook.

“It’s going to be fine,” I whispered to myself.

It would have to be. I didn’t just escape Daniel Hayes’ grasp to falter now.

I walked up to my first table, where a couple was sitting. They looked like they might be on a first date, based on the body language and the shy glances exchanged between the two.

The more sentimental part of me felt a small yearning for that.

A first date was supposed to be sweet, if not a little nerve-wracking. Exciting. Mine had been anything but.

High school had been hell, mostly because everyone knew my dad’s reputation.

Some tried to chase me because they wanted the excitement of dating the daughter of the president of one of the most infamous MCs in the U.S.

Those were the kind of boys I stayed very far away from.

Most of the kids just left me alone.

I had agreed to one date, and learned a huge lesson that night.

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