By the time I dropped a fork in front of Dominic Vance, half the restaurant had already decided I was dead. At Leon’s on the Magnificent Mile, everyone knew the rule. Serve Chicago’s most feared mafia boss quietly.

By the time I dropped a fork in front of Dominic Vance, half the restaurant had already decided I was dead.

At Leon’s on the Magnificent Mile, everyone knew the rule. Serve Chicago’s most feared mafia boss quietly. Keep your eyes down. Never challenge him.

So naturally, during my first week there, I did exactly that.

I was twenty-four, exhausted, underpaid, and running on coffee, cheap mascara, and the kind of determination that came from trying to keep a family alive on tips. My apron was still stiff from being new. My shoes pinched. My wrists ached from working breakfast at another diner that same morning.

None of that bothered me as much as watching our floor manager, Mr. Henderson, sweat through his collar.

“He’s early,” Henderson muttered. “Table four isn’t ready. Carlo, get the reserve bottle. Fix the lighting. Move!”

I was stacking bread plates. “Who’s early?”

Carlo stared at me. “Vance.”

“Who?”

“Dominic Vance.”

Even if you never read Chicago’s crime pages, you knew the name. Construction. Freight. Real estate. Waste management. Waterfront security. And businesses nobody discussed loudly.

“So we seat him,” I said.

Carlo grabbed my wrist. “No. You pour. You nod. You disappear.”

I looked at his hand until he released me. “I’ll take him.”

Henderson nearly choked. “Absolutely not.”

“I need the tips.”

“You need to stay alive.”

Before he could stop me, I grabbed three menus.

The dining room went strangely quiet when Dominic entered. He didn’t look like the monster everyone had described. That somehow made him more intimidating. Dark hair combed back. Charcoal suit. Broad shoulders. Controlled expression.

When he removed his jacket, the sleeves of his black shirt revealed dark tattoos running over his forearms and disappearing beneath the fabric. More ink climbed above his collar. Two bodyguards took positions nearby. One had a scar through his eyebrow.

I approached. “Good evening, gentlemen. I’m Daisy. I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

Dominic barely looked away from his phone. “Sparkling water. No ice. Open the fifteen-year at the bar, not here.”

Dismissed.

Something about his tone irritated me immediately. “Of course. Would you like to hear the specials?”

His gray eyes rose. “Did I ask for the specials?”

“No.”

Silence.

“But most people appreciate knowing what they’re ordering before they start issuing commands.”

Scar-Eyebrow went completely still. Behind me, Carlo stopped breathing.

Dominic slowly placed his phone on the table. “Say that again.”

My pulse hammered. “The specials?”

His mouth almost moved. Almost. “No. The other part.”

“I think you heard me.”

The bodyguard leaned forward. “Miss—”

Dominic lifted one tattooed hand. The man stopped instantly.

Dominic studied me. “What’s your name?”

“I told you. Daisy.”

“Last name.”

“Bennett.”

“Daisy Bennett.” He leaned back. “Do you always speak to customers like this?”

“Only the ones who forget I’m a person.”

That did it. Scar-Eyebrow stared at me like he was already selecting flowers for my funeral. Dominic, however, laughed. Not loudly. Just once.

“What are the specials, Daisy Bennett?”

I blinked. “Braised short ribs, wild mushroom risotto, and Dover sole.”

“Which one is good?”

“The short ribs.”

“Which one is expensive?”

“The sole.”

“And which would you order?”

“The short ribs.”

“Why?”

“Because expensive and good aren’t the same thing.”

Dominic stared at me for another second. “Bring me that.”

I turned away.

“Daisy.”

I looked back.

“And coffee.”

“How?”

“Black.”

“See?” I said. “You can ask nicely.”

Scar-Eyebrow closed his eyes. Dominic stared at me. Then smiled. Barely.

I reached the service station. Carlo grabbed my arm. “Are you insane?”

“Apparently.”

“You embarrassed him.”

“He survived.”

Henderson appeared. “Kitchen. Now.”

He dragged me through the swinging doors. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“He was rude.”

“He is Dominic Vance!”

“I noticed.”

“You’re fired.”

I froze. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“I haven’t even finished the table.”

“You’re finished now.”

My stomach dropped. I needed this job. My mother’s rent was six weeks behind. My younger brother, Noah, had just started community college. Every dollar mattered. “Henderson, please.”

“Get your things.”

A voice came from behind us. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Everyone turned. Dominic stood in the kitchen doorway. His bodyguard remained behind him.

Henderson instantly changed. “Mr. Vance. I apologize. She’s new.”

“I know.”

“I’ll replace her immediately.”

“I said she stays.”

Henderson swallowed. “Of course.”

Dominic looked at me. “Coffee.”

I folded my arms. “You came into the kitchen for coffee?”

“No.” His expression changed. “You dropped something beside my table.”

He held up a folded piece of paper. My blood went cold. Because I recognized it. It had fallen from my apron. And written across the top were three words: FINAL EVICTION NOTICE.

Dominic looked at the paper. Then at me. “Now I understand why you need the tips.”

I snatched it from his hand. “You understand nothing.”

For the first time, something darker appeared in his eyes. “You might be surprised.”

Then he walked away.

I stood there staring after him.

Carlo whispered from behind me. “Daisy?”

“What?”

“You just told Dominic Vance he understands nothing.”

“I know.”