Her Friend Set The Poor Waitress Up On A Blind Date— Mins Later, The Mafia Boss Entered With His Dog

Chapter 2

Across the room, the manager stood beside the host station with both hands clasped behind his back, looking toward table eleven before immediately turning his eyes elsewhere. He’d been standing there for ten minutes. Wren had known him eleven hours a day, six days a week, for three straight years, and she’d never once seen him unsure of where he belonged. The man across from her never looked in his direction. He didn’t need to. That was what sent the second chill through Wren’s spine. He hadn’t done anything — hadn’t raised his voice, threatened anyone, snapped his fingers. He had simply sat down, and an entire room full of people had rearranged itself around him like water flowing around a stone.

“You work here,” he said again. It wasn’t a question. Nothing was a question with this man.

“Morning shift. Dahlia didn’t tell me.”

“Dahlia doesn’t tell you a lot of things.”

“No,” he agreed. “She doesn’t.”