Page 2 of Controlled By the Virgo

"Val," Cassie hisses, snapping me out of my reverie. "Table six is getting antsy."

"Right, sorry," I mumble, grabbing the plates from the counter and hustling over to the waiting customers. A young couple sits nervously across from each other, clearly on a first date. I set their plates down with a flourish, hoping to diffuse the tension between them.

"Enjoy your meal," I say warmly, offering them a reassuring smile before retreating to the safety of the kitchen.

"Okay, so maybe I was spacing out for a second there," I admit sheepishly to Cassie as we regroup behind the counter. "But really, can you blame me?"

"Of course not," she replies sympathetically, giving my hand a comforting squeeze. "But we've got a busy shift ahead, Val. Let's kick some diner butt!"

"Deal," I agree, feeling a renewed sense of determination. My mother needs me to be strong, and that means focusing on what's right in front of me – even if it's just serving eggs and hash browns to grumpy old men and nervous first daters.

With a deep breath and a practiced smile, I approach table four, where a family of five eagerly awaits to place their orders. "Good morning!" I greet them cheerily, my green eyes sparkling with warmth. "What can I get you folks today?"

"Two scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, please," says the father, his eyes scanning the menu as he speaks.

"Of course," I nod, scribbling down his order before turning my attention to the rest of the table. One by one, they rattle off their requests – pancakes for the kids, an omelette for mom, and a hearty breakfast platter for grandma. My pen glides across the paper, capturing every detail with ease.

"Thank you," I tell them, my voice laced with genuine gratitude. I've become quite adept at handling all sorts of customers, from the most pleasant to the downright ornery. But this family seems like good people, and that makes my job just a little bit easier.

As I weave my way back through the maze of red vinyl booths toward the kitchen, my mind drifts to my mother. Her illness weighs heavily on my heart, consuming my thoughts even in the busiest moments. How am I going to afford her next round of treatments? Will she ever be well enough to return to work?

"Val, table three needs a refill on coffee," Cassie, my coworker and best friend, calls out to me, pulling me from my worries. I flash her an appreciative smile and grab the coffee pot, pouring a fresh cup for the middle-aged woman who sits there, lost in her newspaper.

"Thank you, dear," she murmurs absentmindedly, barely looking up.

"Anytime," I reply softly, my mind still racing with concerns for my mother. I can't let her down. She's always been there for me, and now it's my turn to care for her.

"Valerie," Cassie says gently, her eyes full of understanding as she places a comforting hand on my arm. "I know you're worried about your mom, but don't forget to take care of yourself too, okay?"

"Thanks, Cassie," I whisper, touched by her concern. "I'm just... scared, you know?"

"Everything will work out," she reassures me, squeezing my hand before we're both called away to our respective tasks once more.

I straighten my shoulders and refocus my energy on the task at hand – serving the customers who fill the cozy diner, their laughter and conversation melding with the nostalgic tunes that drift from the jukebox in the corner. My fingers fly across the notepad as I take down orders, my smile never wavering even when faced with complaints or impatience.

For my mother, I silently vow, I'll do whatever it takes.

CHAPTERTHREE

Valerie

I can't believemy luck. I overhear the conversation between two men in suits, and my heart races when I realize that one of them is Van Carter, a billionaire executive.

Van Carter, the famous billionaire executive is sitting at the counter of the small diner where I work. Glancing around nervously, I realize that this could be the solution to all my problems. And it's right there for the taking.

"Have a great day!" I call out to the last customer as he leaves, feeling a surge of adrenaline. As soon as the door closes behind him, I trail after Van, who's just paid his bill and is heading outside.

"Excuse me, sir," I say sweetly, tapping him on the shoulder. "You dropped your wallet."

"Really?" He turns around, surprise in those piercing blue eyes, and looks down at the ground. That's when I make my move. My fingers brush over the wallet peeking out from his back pocket, deftly slipping it free as I pretend to pick it up from the sidewalk.

"Here you go," I say, holding it out to him.

"Wait a minute." His voice is ice cold, his gaze narrowing as he grabs my wrist, twisting it slightly so that the wallet falls from my grasp. "What do you think you're doing?"

My heart hammers against my ribs, thoughts racing through my head. Fuck! I'm caught, and there's no way I can talk my way out of this one. I should have known better than to think I'd be able to pull something like this off.

"Let go of me," I snap, trying to pull away, but his grip only tightens.

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