Page 40 of Forgive Me For I Have Sinned

"You have a visitor in booth five," Dorothy says, giving me a wink.

I smile and lean back, waiting for Peter, our cook, to hand me the sandwich a customer ordered. As my eyes focus on booth five, the smell of French fries frying causes a cloud of smoke from the heat, making the alarm go off. My stomach drops when I see Alaric sitting alone in the booth with one hand sprawled across the red vinyl bench seat, perusing the menu.

"Why is he here?" Adam asks, standing behind me.

I play with the hem of my apron, wondering the same thing.

"I don't know. Maybe I forgot to do something at the office."

I told Dorothy, Adam, and his sisters that I was interning with Alaric, and they were all surprised that he allowed it. Him being here is for a reason, and I know it has nothing to do with the office.

"Go, I'll take the order to your table."

"Are you sure?' I ask, still looking at the booth behind the counter. I like the fact that I can watch him without him noticing. It reminds me of all the times I would stare, and he didn't know I existed. I always knew it was a pipe dream to be with a guy like him, my time with Charles Devlin and his cronies solidifying it.

"Yeah, go ahead."

I take a deep breath and head over to booth five. When he sees me approach, he drops the menu and slides his gaze up until he reaches my eyes. "How can I help you? Are you hungry?" I ask.

He smiles. "I'm hungry but not for the food. I need you. I need to blow off steam."

He came here like I'm a prostitute, and don't wait tables in a restaurant.

"Isn't your secretary available?" I gift him with a sarcastic smile. "She seems very passionate about her job…and you."

"Is she a problem for you?" he asks.

I think he’s asking if I’m jealous or see her as a threat. The truth is, maybe. Do I want to be? No. Not like this. It was never supposed to be like this.

"Do you think she is a problem for me?"

"I don't know." He shrugs. "You brought her up. I didn't."

"Hmm…let me see. Then it isn't a problem with you when I hang around a guy I have slept with daily."

"Have you?" he says, looking toward Adam and then back at me with a hard glint in his eyes.

"Are you asking if I slept with anyone I work with?"

He leans back, sliding his ass half off the bench, and I wait a few seconds, making him sweat. "No," I finally say. "He's a friend, and I help his family out babysitting for his younger sister Melody, so she stays out of trouble."

He laughs, and I swear it's the sexiest laugh. His lips lift in a smile, showing those perfect white teeth, which makes my stomach flip. "You're trouble. How can you keep someone else out of it."

I fidget with the pen in my pocket and nervously click the top repeatedly, making a clicking sound. Is he flirting with me?

"I'm not trouble. It seems like I am or that I don't have friends because I had no choice but to alienate people. Most people think I'm some crazed bitch, and I get why they think that. But this is the only time I have to make friends and be myself. It is why I work the night shift when no one at Kenyan is around to see me because they won't be caught dead near Ohio State territory during the school year."

"Is that the only reason?" he inquires.

I'm surprised I'm even talking to him this way. Normally, people from Kenyan could care less about me, and I know why. It is my fault, but the freedom of choice was taken from me way too early. It is easy to say, stand up for yourself. Run away. Yeah, where would I go? They have all the resources in the world to find and kill me. My best friend is proof of that, and she simply ran away because she fell in love. Her parents loved her. Her brother and even her dangerous cousin with power and influence loved her, but they all had something in common. They loved her and none of them could stop it from happening. All those thoughts pop into my head when I want to run. The screams from my nightmares telling me to never look back is my inner weakness telling me to give up because I know the end result. It’s the same as committing suicide.

"You mean the reason why I choose to work here?"

He nods.

I pull out the pad holding the pen in my hand. "People work because they need the money, and it's a way to survive. Now what can I get you?"

It’s a hard pill to swallow, knowing where I live and that I have to work to pay for things I find trivial. The dresses are nice. You'd be surprised how much clothes cost when trying to blend in with rich pricks in high society. I'm Prey, which means I don't have a fat bank account like the other kids. I don't have a fancy car like Reid or Valen––I never learned how to drive. I have to take the bus or catch a ride.

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