Chapter 5

Hotel Luxury, Same Night

Wayne wouldn't let it go. "So you're telling me you don't know why Mirabella isn't here?"

"I have no idea," Nate said, exhausted. "We came here together. I never saw her leave."

"Wayne, I swear," Mateo cut in, clearly a little drunk, "if you ask him one more time, I will end you."

"You should go home," Wayne told him. "You're drunk." He turned to Nate. "Take him home. And don't forget — get me Mirabella's number."

Mirabella's Street

"Mom!"

Mirabella's voice cracked as she saw Anita leaning against the wall, shaking. They had searched the whole night and half the morning. She ran and wrapped her arms around her.

"Mom, where were you?" she asked through tears.

"Let's get her inside, she's freezing," Ava said.

They brought Anita in, helped her change, and Mirabella made her something warm to drink. Anita finished it slowly, then fell asleep almost right away. Mirabella lay down beside her.

The Next Morning

Mirabella woke to her phone buzzing against the pillow. She answered without opening her eyes.

"Hello?"

"Are you aware there's a staff meeting today at four?" The voice was calm but firm.

"A meeting — at four?" She sat up fast, grabbing for the clock on the nightstand. It was already past four. "Oh no."

She jumped up too fast and nearly fell over.

"Where are you going?" Ava asked, stepping into the room.

"I have to get to work."

"Absolutely not. I'll call them and explain what happened. Look at you — you need food and sleep, not more stress."

"I can't use that excuse. I just started yesterday."

"That's not a good enough reason?"

Mirabella knew there was no winning this argument. "Fine. Just — it's only a two-hour meeting."

"Sit. Eat first. Then you can go." Ava set toast in front of her. Mirabella ate two bites standing up, then bolted for the bathroom.

"Three minutes and forty-eight seconds," Ava called out when she emerged. "That has to be a record."

"I'll shower properly when I get back. I have good deodorant." Mirabella was already pulling clothes from her closet — the first top and jeans she could reach. She never went wrong with this combination, so she didn't waste time thinking about it. She ran a comb through her hair, added a little cream, and dabbed on lip balm. Her skin did the rest — no one would guess she'd spent the whole night crying.

The Restaurant

She reached the meeting room upstairs, out of breath, and pushed the door open slowly. Everyone turned to look at her. She braced herself for a scolding — but no one said anything. She slipped into an empty seat.

"You all know we officially open tomorrow," Mateo said, looking around the table, his eyes settling on Mirabella last. "No late arrivals. No unnecessary time off. When we're here, we work like professionals."

Then, more gently: "How's your mother?"

"My mother?" Mirabella blinked. "How did you—"

"Your aunt called around four to explain. You really didn't have to come in today."

"Oh — right." She remembered leaving her aunt the restaurant's contact information the day before.

"Alright, everyone. That's the meeting. You all have your assignments?"

"Yes," the others said together.

"Good. See you all tomorrow."

Chairs scraped back as everyone stood to leave.

"Mirabella — stay behind for a moment."

She waited until the room emptied, standing a careful distance from his desk.

Mateo looked at her a beat too long before speaking. She really is beautiful, he thought, and immediately pushed the thought away. He liked to enjoy himself, but never with his own staff. That was a line he never crossed.

"Boss?" Mirabella prompted, noticing he'd gone quiet.

"Right — sorry. Please, sit down."

She sat.

"I'll get straight to it. You were hired as a waitress, but I don't think that's going to work anymore."

"Did I do something wrong?" The words rushed out of her. "Whatever happened today, it won't happen again, I promise—"

He slid a printed sheet across the desk. She grabbed it, half-expecting a termination letter. When she read it, she sighed instead.

"Sir, I don't think I can do this."

"Why not? Think of it this way — you'd only work three evenings a week. Friday, Saturday, Sunday. And you'd be paid double what we agreed."

"But I'd be closing at eleven, sir."

"There's a rest room on the second floor if you need it. And if you'd rather go home, my driver Kas can take you."

"I only sang that night because it was an emergency. I'm not really a singer."

"The customers loved you. We read the reviews before you even walked in this morning — they all mention your voice. Help us grow this place."

Mirabella laughed nervously, unsure what to say.

"Take some time to think about it. Come back to me by Wednesday."

"Can I still come to work tomorrow?"

"No." He saw her face fall and softened. "But if you come back Wednesday and decide this isn't for you, your old job will be waiting, and you'll get full pay for the days in between."

She let out a breath. "Okay. Thank you, sir. I should get going."

"Of course." She was almost at the door when he called her name again.

"Mirabella—"