Mafia King's Lost Princess

Elena

"Dev'essere pazzo…” He spatial at me calling the attention of the closest chef beside me.

No…I want mad.

I kept my head down as the restaurant manager yelled at the top of his voice. The last time I had looked at him, as he spoke, his spittle that went flying out from his mouth ended up washing my face.

"Once beaten, twice shy" was something I was quite accustomed to. I knew that my manager would take silence as a sign of submission. Men like him preferred ego play rather than being right.

I said nothing, and he continued to fire rapid Italian at me.

Of course, I had done nothing wrong, but the man just liked to make a mountain out of a molehill. Couple with my exhaustion from my classes earlier in the day, I was in no mood to argue.

“Perché stai intralciando tutti? Sei così disoccupato? Perché devi starsene lì in giro sembrando un pomodoro! Sì, un grande idiota!”

I was apparently an idiot and a tomato according to him.

The large kitchen bustled behind me, but some of the kitchen staff had chosen to stay in instead of work.

It's them you should yell at, not me, I thought. I was constantly picked upon by this man.

Giuseppe had been nothing more than a thorn in my flesh since I started working at the restaurant. While I thought it was because I was simply new, the treatment had lasted over six months now, and there were yet more new staff.

He pointed in front of me and finally dismissed me. I deepened the bow and scurried over to the table I was serving.

“You good?” I heard a voice behind me. It was the chef that jumped when Guiseppe was yelling.

“Yeah.”

“There's a customer outside. Why don't you leave the dishes…I'll handle them.” He said with a smile.

I pushed ioen the door connecting the kitchen from the main dining area to find that the customers had gone but had been replaced by a single man.

His long muscular legs were crossed and clad in beach trousers. He wore a white shirt that was rolled up to his sleeves to expose his tattoos.

On his neck was a necklace of something that looked

like an anchor, but I wasn't sure as I wasn't close enough. His face was blocked by the magazine he was reading, but his long, veiny fingers were quite eye-catching for me.

"Is there something I can get you, sir?" I asked in English. The mysterious man put down his magazine and turned bright hazel eyes to look at me.

Holy virgin.

His gaze was burning, and the hazel of his eyes were almost a deep amber color. He had a straight nose, full lips, and a jaw sharp enough to cut through butter. He was quite a handsome man.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts and asked again. "Is there something I can get you, sir?" The man smiled just a bit, with the smile not quite reaching his eyes.

"Coffee," he answered in a deep voice that sent shivers down my spine. Feeling the need to leave his presence, I quickly skirted away with eyes wide open, and picked up the job of hot coffee and went back to his table.

Completely avoiding his gaze, I kept my eyes focused on the coffee in front of me. The last thing I wanted was to spill coffee over his expensive-looking brown leather shoes and get scolded again by my manager. It was quite rare for me to get scolded twice a day, but a regular daily scolding was normal.

Just as I was about to pour his cup, I heard him mumble something. "I'm sorry, what?" I asked. He shook his head. "Damon. That's my name. What's yours?" he asked, with a slight smile tugging at his lips.

Those lips…

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked again, all of a sudden feeling very repetitive. I shook my head at my own actions. This is very unlike me. Men were secondary in my life at the moment, so I couldn't explain why I felt this way. Sensing my discomfort, the stranger smiled. "Elena." I answered.

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, bringing himself dangerously close to me. I swallowed loudly and watched as his eyes moved over my neck.

Those eyes…

Distracted and trying to regain my composure, I turned back to the coffee jug I held and hugged it to my chest as though it would shield me from his gaze. "Pretty name," he said in a deep voice. "Did your mother give it to you?"

I froze at the sound of the word "mother." I barely knew the woman, but it felt strange talking about myself with someone I had just met. I only knew my mother in the last moments of my life and even struggled to remember my face.

Feeling clueless, I nodded and plastered a fake smile on my face. The man, called Damon, released a low hum that sounded like a purr of a large cat.

But he was a beast. He seemed like a beast ready to pounce on me at any given moment. I looked up from the coffee I was holding and focused my eyes on his nose, afraid to meet his gaze.

"W-Will that be all?" I stammered. His lips curved into a slow and sensual smile that promised strange things and sweaty nights. I bluId pink.

He shook his head. "When I need you, I'll call you. I would love to likely be getting another cup of coffee, so please stick around," he said.

I all but ran back to the kitchen once he nodded at me to leave. On shaky legs, I leaned against the cold kitchen counter where the chefs kneaded bread.

I didn't know why I felt that way but the man made me extremely nervous and self-conscious . Not wanting Giuseppe to find me idle, I quickly glanced around to see if Giuseppe was close to me. He wasn't, making it incredibly lucky for me.

I took in a couple more breaths before straightening myself away from the counter. my legs were still shaking, and most of all, my underwear was ruined.

The mere fact that he looked deep into my eyes and smiled the way he did was more than enough to release the torrents between my legs.

I was wet and bothered.

I huffed and picked up the jug of coffee beside me. As soon as I set it down at its rightful position, I looked back to find Damon on the phone.

His eyebrows were drawn together, and he drummed his fingers rapidly on the table. Whatever that was, it looked urgent because he stood up, dropped a couple of Iets of money, and walked off quickly.

I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding. In a way, I was glad that he was gone. He confused me and made me feel in a way that I had never felt before.

I hoped that I wouldn't encounter him again. Encounters such as the one I just had were like Christmas or even worse, a lunar eclipse. Stuff like that only happened once in a lifetime.