A WILD ROSE FOR THE MAFIA BOSS

Alora's pov

“This is the last warning you’re getting,” Vito said, jabbing a finger toward the door. “One more screw-up today and you’re done. Now get the fuck out of my face and serve that table.”

I didn’t argue. I just turned, squared my shoulders, and walked toward the table that was about to cost me my job.

“Hi, I’m Alora, and I’ll be serving you today. What can I get you?”

I forced the smile, the one that didn’t quite reach my eyes. My heart hammered against my ribs, loud enough that I was sure they could hear it. Table nine. Of course it had to be the one with the brats.

The boy in the brown leather jacket leaned back in his chair, slow and deliberate, his gaze dragging over me like I was something he’d found on the bottom of his shoe. Dirty blond hair. Smug mouth. The kind of confidence that came from never being told no.

“Guys,” he said, lips curling, “she means what can she get herself.”

The table erupted in snickers.

“Yeah,” he went on, clearly enjoying himself. “Get yourself some ass and boobs. You look like a literal cardboard cutout.”

Laughter burst out, loud and careless, filling the diner. I felt heat rush to my face, my fingers curling so tightly around my order pad that the paper crumpled. I counted to ten in my head, slow and steady, forcing my hands to relax. I needed this job.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” the girl with them snapped. Her chest was practically spilling out of her top, her nails long and perfectly manicured. She looked me up and down like I was the dirt on her heel.

I rolled my eyes and tilted my head, silently urging her to get on with it. The sooner I took their order, the sooner I could walk away.

They rattled off their food choices between snide remarks, and I wrote them down without comment. When I finally turned to leave, my shoulders sagged in relief.

That relief didn’t last long.

I returned a few minutes later, balancing the tray carefully. I’d learned the hard way that mistakes were never forgiven especially not on days when my luck was already thin.

I placed the plates down one by one, keeping my eyes on the table.

“Enjoy your meal,” I said, forcing the smile back into place.

I turned to leave, but the girl stopped me.

“We’ll leave you a generous tip,” she said sweetly. “Use it to get some clothes. Not those stinky rags.”

My lips parted slightly. Slowly, I turned back to her.

“Thanks,” I said evenly, “but I don’t accept charity.”

Her smile dropped instantly. “And what does that mean, you peasant?”

Heads turned. Conversations quieted. I felt the weight of the room shift, all eyes suddenly on me. I said nothing.

I inhaled and turned to leave.

Just then a hand grabbed my butt , squeezing at it tightly.

For a second, my mind went blank. Then everything rushed back at once, hot and furious. My chest tightened, my vision narrowing until all I could see was red.

I spun around so fast my tray almost tipped. “What is your problem?” I shouted, my voice cutting through the diner.

The boy in the jacket laughed, like it was all a joke. “Relax. I was just doing you a favor. You should be grateful for the attention.

Who would even want to touch a thing like you?”

The sound echoed in my ears.

My hand connected with his face, the sharp crack ringing out across the room. The diner went dead silent.

Before anyone could stop me, I lunged forward, grabbing his hair and yanking hard. My nails scraped across his face as he shouted, scrambling backward in his chair.

“Get off me, you wild animal!” he screamed.

Strong hands grabbed my arms, pulling me back. I struggled, my breath coming fast and uneven, adrenaline flooding my veins.

“Alora!” Vito’s voice thundered through the chaos. “Stop this

madness. You’re chasing away my customers.”

I was dragged away, my chest heaving, my hands shaking.

“You are fired,” Vito snapped. “Pack up your things and get out of here.”

The girl laughed. “Yeah, peasant. Leave.”

Something in me snapped clean in two. I looked at her and smiled.

“You know what?” I said lightly. “Next time you get a boob job, tell your doctor to do a brain job too.”

Gasps rippled through the diner. I didn’t wait to see their reactions. I turned and walked away, past the whispers, the stares, the judgment.

In the changing room, I caught my reflection in the mirror. Messy hair. Flushed skin. Eyes blazing like I’d just come out of a fight which I had. I pulled on my baggy jeans and oversized hoodie, my hands still trembling.

I felt sick about losing the job. Rent. Food. Tuition. All of it pressed in on me at once. Slapping that jerk, though? I’d do it again without hesitation.

I slipped out the back door and onto the street. The rain hit me immediately, cold and relentless. My wallet was light and the new semester was creeping closer. Classes I couldn’t afford. A future that felt like it was slipping through my fingers.

My hand drifted to the broken locket around my neck. The only piece of family I had. It knocked softly against my chest with each step.

I walked aimlessly, until a strange feeling crawled up my spine. Like someone was watching me.

I turned. Nothing.

Then a firm grip closed around my arm, yanking me back.

“What is your problem?” I snapped.

A tall, well-built man leaned close. “Someone wants to talk to you. In that car.”

Across the street, a black Mercedes idled, headlights cutting through the rain. My heart pounded as I crossed over, every instinct screaming at me to stop.

Inside the car, an elegant woman waited. Her presence filled the space effortlessly.

“Alora,” she said, her voice smooth. “I’m Bianca De Luca.”

I swallowed. “Um… hi.”

“I loved what you did back at the diner,” she continued. “Most people let themselves be stepped on. You didn’t.”

I shrugged. “Didn’t know I had an audience. Maybe take a video next time.”

She smiled and slid a folder toward me. “This is a live-in position. Salary enough to cover everything. You won’t have to worry about money again. Ever.”

My chest tightened as I stared at it.

“I… I can’t,” I whispered. “I don’t know you.”

Her gaze sharpened. “Look around you. Everything you’ve tried so far has failed. This isn’t charity. It’s opportunity. But you’ll need to trust me.”

The rain drummed against the roof. My options vanished one by one.

“I accept,” I said.

Before I could touch the folder, a gloved hand yanked me back. The door slammed shut. Darkness closed in.

“Finally,” a voice murmured. “You’re exactly where I want you to be.”