I accidentally called the most feared mafia boss in the city “baby” while serving him a drink.
Part 2
For a moment, I honestly believed I had died standing upright.
The tray trembled in my hands.
One of Roman Gallagher’s guards muttered something under his breath, but Roman lifted one finger and the man went silent.
“Mr. Gallagher,” I whispered.
“I’m so sorry.
I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant.”
His smile remained small, dangerous, unreadable.
“You’re tired.”
That should have comforted me.
It did not.
Men like Roman did not notice tired waitresses unless there was a reason.
I forced myself to take one step back.
“I should return to the bar.”
“Not yet.”
The two words pinned me in place.
Roman closed the leather ledger and slid it aside.
“What’s your name?”
“Lena.”
“Lena what?”
“Lena Brooks.”
Something shifted in his eyes.
The amusement disappeared so quickly I wondered if I had imagined it.
One of his guards leaned closer and whispered, “Boss.”
Roman ignored him.
“Who calls you baby, Lena Brooks?”
Heat rushed into my face.
“No one important.”
My phone buzzed again inside my apron, as if summoned by humiliation.
Roman glanced down.
“Answer it.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
His voice softened.
“That wasn’t a suggestion.”
With shaking fingers, I pulled out my phone.
Daniel’s name lit the screen.
Before I could decline, Roman took it from my hand and answered.
He did not say hello.
He only listened.
Daniel’s voice exploded through the speaker.
“Where the hell are you?
Bring cash this time, baby, and don’t make me come down there.”
Roman’s expression went completely still.
Then Daniel added, “You still owe my brother for letting you live in that apartment.”
The guards stopped breathing.
Roman looked at me.
“His brother’s name?”
I swallowed.
“Evan.”
Roman’s jaw tightened once.
“Evan Brooks?”
I nodded.
Roman ended the call and placed my phone on the table with strange care.
Then he reached into his ledger and turned it toward me.
On the open page was Daniel’s name.
Beside it was a debt amount that made my stomach drop.
Underneath, written in red ink, were two words.
Collateral girl.
Roman looked up at me.
“Lena,” he said quietly.
May you like
“You didn’t accidentally walk into my booth tonight.
You were sent.”
