Fragile Freedom

New York. Now.

The irritating high-pitched beeping sound drilled into my head. Groaning, I swayed my hand toward the bedside table, ineptly trying to turn the damn alarm off without opening my eyes. It didn't work; it never had. Cursing, I tore my sleepy eyes open enough to navigate my finger to the button.

And then… silence. I smiled faintly, but my relief lasted only until I realized what time it was. “Shit,” I muttered, slowly dragging myself from beneath the covers.

I entered the bathroom and splashed my face with cold water, hoping to wash off the remains of sleep. The sound of shattering glass and cursing burst through the thin walls, causing me to flinch. I grabbed the sink with both hands, my knuckles bleaching. My body began to tremble, and the well-known tension clenched every inch of me.

“Calm down, Poppy,” I choked out, looking at my reflection in the mirror. “It's only your fucked-up neighbors fighting… again.” I forced more air into my lungs and stretched my lips into a faint smile. “But you're safe here. You made it. You're free.”

Keeping the smile on my face, I brushed my caramel blond hair. Looking at them was one of many marvelous aspects of my freedom. After I had left Chicago—and Ardian—I had been trying to erase everything he had forcefully changed in me. I hadn't seen my natural hair color in more than three years, and now, after six months of living in New York, I finally began to resemble my old self… on the outside, at least.

The bruises and cracked bones had healed, but some of my inner wounds were still bleeding, and my fears stayed around, causing me to look over my shoulder whenever I went out of my apartment. But this wouldn't last forever. One day, I would save enough money from my three jobs and move out to some remote island where Ardian would never find me. Of course, there was a chance that I would die from exhaustion before that happened, but I tried to stay positive.

“Soon,” I said, smiling at my reflection. “I'll be all right soon…”

My phone rang, and I rushed to my bedroom, where I left it by the bed. The restaurant manager's ID appeared on the screen, the sight filling me with confusion. I couldn't remember the last time Nate had called me so early in the morning… probably because it had never happened before. Clearing my throat, I swiped my finger through the screen. “Hi, Nate. Please tell me that nothing happened to Tavolo Verde and that I still have my job.”

He snorted. “Nothing happened to Tavolo Verde.”

Everything within me tensed. “Then, you're calling to… fire me?”

“Not exactly,” he drawled. “Remember how I told you about Nicole going on maternity leave?”

My heart began to hammer. “You told me that you need to recruit someone new to replace her. What does it have to do with me?”

“Well… I didn't hire anyone. The most experienced waitress who showed up couldn't distinguish between Pinot Noir and Pinot Grigio. That's why I need you…”

A hysterical laugh bubbled within me and quickly erupted. “I can't! I'm a kitchen porter! I can't be a waitress!”

Nate sighed. “Poppy, stop with that bullshit. We both know that you have everything required to do the job. Plus, you know our menu and wine card. It's time for you to stop hiding in that damn kitchen.”

“You know I have my reasons. We talked about it many times before.” I began to pace around the room. Nate knew I had escaped my abusive ex and that he might one day come looking for me. He knew why I'd chosen to wash the dishes instead of picking a higher-paid job.

“Please, Poppy… Do it at least for a week or two. Don't make me beg you,” he groaned, instantly awakening the guilt inside me.

I blew out a breath. “Nate, I can't. What if someone recognizes me?”

“You can put on a wig if that helps. I can double your pay, but I need you… especially tonight.”

I bit the inner side of my cheek. I should have refused, but the higher pay… What if I could gather the money I needed faster? What if it was worth a risk?

“And… what happens tonight?” I finally asked.

“I've been notified that we might have the new owner coming over…”

I blinked, wondering if I heard him correctly. “Tavolo Verde was sold? When?”

“Well, it's not sold… yet,” he grumbled. “But it's almost settled and…”

I muttered a curse. “You fear that the buyer might not sign the deal if something goes wrong, don't you?”

“Please, Poppy…” I heard him draw a sharp breath. “Just for two weeks? Triple pay?”

My lips slowly stretched into a wide smile. Triple?! Who in their right mind could have said no to that?

I cleared my throat. “Nate, you've got yourself a new waitress.”

***

“This was a terrible idea,” I muttered under my breath as I balanced the heavy tray, striding between the tables.

It had been a while since I wore heels, not to mention that Nate had yet to order the right size for me. I could only choose between too large and too small. I'd chosen the latter, and after six hours of running back and forth, my feet were begging me for mercy.

“I hope you'll enjoy your meal, sir. Please, do let me know if you'd like anything else.” My mimic muscles ached from keeping the trained smile on my face, but at least that smile had already earned me more money in tips than my month's worth of pay as a kitchen porter.

Keeping my back perfectly straight, I placed the empty tray behind the counter. Nate met my gaze and grinned, flashing his perfectly white teeth. Then he sauntered toward me and winked. “See? I knew you'd be perfect.”

I gave him a look. “I'm wearing a black wig with straight bangs, which makes me look like a cheap version of Cleopatra. I could barely stuff my feet into these shoes, and I'm not sure I'll be able to take them off without breaking them. Not to mention that Nicole's uniform is so tight, I fear that my boobs might pop out at any moment. I'm far from perfect.”

Nate chuckled, his curly brown hair bouncing as his head shook. “The wig is fine, and your boobs are yet another one of your assets.” His gaze fell to my cleavage. “Trust me.”

I rolled my eyes and pulled my uniform higher, trying to cover my chest. “Triple pay. Remember.” I met his gaze.

He winced. “Yeah… about that… I will keep my end of the deal, but…”

My irritation flared. “But?”

“I need you to go to the entresol.” His lips formed a sheepish smile.

“To the VIP section?” When he nodded, I stumbled back. “Nate, that was not part of our deal.”

“Please?” He gave me the puppy-eyes look. “Mark will cook for you for a week if you agree.”

I frowned. “You even dragged your husband into this?!”

He fluttered his eyelashes. “Two weeks?”

Unfortunately, free meals were more than just a good offer for me, and Mark was an excellent cook. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “Fine.”

“You're the best, Poppy.” He smiled wider than a Cheshire Cat. “You won't regret this.”

Somehow, I had a feeling I would regret this decision quite quickly.

***

Waitering in the VIP section had its perks. The area was less crowded, and the tempo wasn't as hectic as on the ground floor. Only a few customers occupied the upper seats tonight, which honestly made me wonder why Nate had been so desperate to send me here.

I glanced at the clock and sighed in relief. Only ninety minutes left until closing. “You can do this, Poppy,” I whispered to myself, quickly glancing in a mirror to check my makeup.

I was about to greet my next customers when someone grabbed my arm, pulling me to a halt. “You need to switch with me.”

I turned around and saw one of the waitresses, Ivy, staring at me with pleading eyes. “Why? What's wrong?”

She nervously combed her ginger hair with her fingers. “Look to your right, a table in the corner.”

I glanced in that direction and saw two men sitting there. One of them was in his sixties, gray-haired and strongly built. The other one sat with his back to me. All I could notice was that he was a brunette, much younger than the gray-haired man.

“See the old guy?” Ivy muttered, leaning over me. “This is Emidio Abramo.” She emphasized the name as if I were supposed to know who he was.

I blinked. “So?”

She inched closer. “They say he's in the Mafia!” she whisper-shouted.

My body tensed. I promised myself I would avoid all dangerous men like the plague, and it looked like this plague was currently sitting less than twenty feet away from me.

“Poppy, you need to help me.” She squeezed my wrists, nearly stopping my blood circulation. “I'm sure you'll handle them better than me…” Her face turned pale, making me wonder if she was about to faint.

I closed my eyes for a second and swallowed a long line of curses. Then I looked at the gray-haired man again. “Are you certain about this?”

She bit her lip and nodded. “I heard he… killed someone last month. I'll have a panic attack if I go there.”

I certainly had the experience needed to recognize the true embodiment of evil, and honestly, Mr. Abramo didn't look like one. In comparison to the truly cruel and vicious men I had met, he rather resembled… a nice guy. That couldn't be that bad, right? Unfortunately, Ivy looked like she was about to either faint or throw up. I let out a long sigh. “All right. Let's switch the tables.”

She grinned, releasing my almost crushed wrists. “I'll owe you.” She ran off before I could respond, perhaps fearing I would change my mind.

Locking my eyes on the table in the corner, I rolled back my shoulders and walked forward. With all the confidence I could muster, I halted before the two men and corrected my smile. “Hello, my name is Nicole, and I'll be serving you tonight.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Nicole.” Mr. Abramo nodded in a way of greeting as I placed the menus on the table.

“A pleasure indeed.” A dark purr sent my heart racing. Slowly, I turned toward the other man and met a pair of onyx eyes.

My breath froze in my lungs. Perhaps Ivy had been right when she hadn't wanted to go anywhere near this table. But it wasn't Emidio Abramo whom she should have feared. The real danger radiated from the black-haired man sitting in front of him. Every inch of him screamed that he was the apex predator in this room…

And I might have just become his prey.