My Billionaire Boss Handed Me A Drink — He Had No Idea Who He Was Dining With
Part 2
The heavy silence stretched between us, drowning out the frantic sobbing of the patrons huddled on the floor.
“If a powerful man stands before you,” Brian asked, his voice a lethal velvet whisper, “a man who kills, extorts, and corrupts, and you have the chance to let his enemy murder him right in front of you, washing the city clean of his sins, why do you save the monster?”
I looked at the dead body.
I looked at the terrified rich patrons hiding under their tables, the same patrons who had called me a cow.
They had laughed at me sweating in the kitchen, never once seeing me as a human being.
Then I looked directly into Brian Rossi’s eyes.
I did not blink.
“Because a monster who tips twenty percent and says thank you is better than a saint who spits on my shoes,” I answered coldly.
“The good people in this city look at me and see a fat joke, Mr.
Rossi.”
“They see a waste of space.”
“But you never looked at me with pity.”
“You just saw a woman doing her job.”
“You are a monster, sure, but you are a monster with manners.”
“In my world, loyalty goes to the one who treats me like a human.”
Brian stared at me.
The silence stretched so long that I was sure I was going to die.
I braced myself for the gunshot.
Instead, a slow, dark smile spread across the mafia boss’s face.
It was a terrifying, beautiful thing.
“You don’t belong in this diner,” Brian whispered, stepping back and gesturing for his men to clear a path to the door.
“Grab your coat.”
Snow crunched beneath my cheap rubber-soled shoes as I followed Brian Rossi out to the back door of the restaurant.
The freezing wind whipped through my thin polyester uniform, but I barely felt the cold.
Adrenaline pumped through my veins, thick and metallic.
I had just watched a man die, and worse, I had allowed it to happen.
Now I was stepping into the back of a bulletproof SUV with the city’s most feared syndicate boss.
Inside the vehicle, the heavy doors clicked shut, plunging us into absolute soundproof silence.
Brian poured two glasses of scotch from a crystal decanter, handing one to me.
I took it, my hands trembling slightly, but I forced myself to meet his gaze.
“You are shaking,” Brian noted, his voice a low, soothing rumble in the dim light.
“But your eyes are entirely calm, which is a fascinating contradiction.”
“I am currently sitting next to a man who just orchestrated a murder via my serving tray,” I replied, taking a slow sip of the scotch.
“I think a little trembling is a perfectly rational physiological response.”
“What do you want with me, Mr.
Rossi?”
“Brian,” he corrected smoothly, leaning back against the plush leather.
“As for what I want, I require an asset.”
He explained his syndicate was bleeding from a rat feeding information to the feds and rival families.
He had torn his inner circle apart trying to find the leak.
“You know nothing of our operations, which means you belong to no faction,” Brian said, a dark smile playing on his lips.
“But more importantly, you possess a superpower that money cannot buy.”
“Being aggressively overweight?” I asked.
“Being invisible,” Brian countered, leaning forward.
“Society has trained people to look past you, to dismiss you, because you do not fit their narrow, pathetic definition of value.”
“They assume you lack intelligence, perception, and danger.”
“You hear things, you see things.”
“I want to put you in rooms with my enemies.”
“I want you to be my eyes and ears.”
I stared at him, stunned.
He was offering me a wildly illegal, insanely dangerous job.
I knew I had to accept to survive, but the danger was immediately apparent.
A few weeks later, I was attending a massive charity gala, dressed in expensive velvet and completely ignored by the elite guests.
While resting near a secluded balcony, I overheard Craig Davis, Brian’s oldest friend and underboss, plotting with Councilman Thomas to ambush Brian in the underground garage.
I knew I had to warn him, but how could I signal a mafia boss in a room full of politicians and assassins without getting us both killed?
