sᴜɢᴀʀ sᴛᴏʀᴍ | ✓

25

Amara's eyes widened, pushing Primo off her. She snatched her phone, fixing her uniform, and prepared to leave. She had forgotten about her job. Most of the time, she wouldn't care but not keeping her word to aunt Mallorie was rude.

Not to mention, embarrassing.

"Amara? Where are you going?" Primo asked, clutching her elbow.

"I... I have an errand! Bye!" She kissed his cheek and rushed to the door. "Crap!" She ran back to Primo. "Can I borrow your car, please!"

He frowned. "Do you want me to give you a ride there?"

"Ugh... not really?"

"So, this is a secret?"

Amara chewed at her bottom lip. She didn't want to keep a secret from him but explaining how she had ended up working at a restaurant was too complicated. "I'll tell you soon?"

Primo sighed, digging through his bag to get his car keys. "Not one scratch, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah." She rolled her eyes, swiping the keys from his hands.

"Be careful."

Amara smiled at his thoughtfulness. She kissed him on the lips, an action that somehow surprised both of them. She shrugged it off and dashed outside.

The drive was short but Amara felt like she wasted hours. She entered Queen's Palace, noticing that the elevator wasn't down yet. She grumbled and took the stairs, huffing as she reached the restaurant. They were cleaning up when she entered. Amara immediately spotted her aunt by the bar counter.

She took a deep breath and marched towards her. "Auntie..."

Mallorie turned, arms crossed. "So you bothered to show up?"

"I'm sorry! I forgot—"

"Because of your engagement, right?" The woman's eyes scanned her fingers. "Where's the ring?"

"You know it wasn't like that!" She argued, feeling her face redden. She had to remind herself that the engagement was a temporary event and that expecting a ring from Primo was ridiculous.

And yet, the thought made her sad.

Amara clicked her tongue. This couldn't be happening. She had to set her priorities straight. Work. She had to focus on work. "Auntie, aren't you angry?"

"Well, someone did overtime in your place..." She glanced at Zeke who was wiping the tables. "You should thank him."

Amara chewed at her bottom lip. She wasn't used to people cleaning her shit up. What if he thinks that she was an irresponsible person?

She approached the man before embarrassment overwhelmed her mind. Amara cleared her throat. "Hey."

"Hey," he replied though his eyes were on the table. "Glad you showed up."

"Yeah. About that..." she began. "Thank you for covering for me. I owe you. I promise I'll do your work if you want to take a break or something!"

Zeke ceased working, his lips twitched as he faced her. "No need to get worked up. I got a lot of tips anyway."

Amara snorted as the pressure left her body. "Okay. But I won't do it again. I can work the whole day tomorrow."

"Don't you have school?" he asked.

"It's fine," she answered. This was the distraction she needed.

Amara stayed true to her words. She had spent the whole day working and the next day after that despite Zeke's insistence that she did not need to repay her debt.

She had immersed herself in work and yet, she still missed Primo all the time.

'Where are you?'

It was Primo's text for the fiftieth time tonight. She debated on what to reply when Zeke entered the break room with a worried frown on his features.

"Amara, did you take the order on table six?"

She hid her phone. "Yeah. Why?"

"Uhm, there's a problem."

Amara followed him out to a table occupied by a woman in her fifties. She was clad in a black Armani suit as Cartier jewelry adorned the tight bun above her head.

"This isn't what I ordered!" she spat out at the crab and corn soup in front of her. "I said mushroom!"

Amara had remembered taking her order while she was on the phone. But she knew that politeness was the only acceptable move in this industry. She bowed her head. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'll correct it right away."

Zeke shot her a concerned look. "Will you be okay? You've been here the whole day. Maybe I should—"

"No. It's fine," she insisted. Amara grabbed a hot bowl of mushroom soup and delivered it to the woman. She waited for her to taste it, to make sure it was to her liking. "Is it to your liking, Madam?"

The woman set her spoon down. "Are you stupid? This is bland."

"I apologize," she muttered and took the order to the counter.

Amara was certain the soup had been seasoned. But whatever, customers were always right. Though she made sure to sample the next soup. It tasted great.

But once again, the woman glared at her. "This is too salty!"

Amara felt her patience snapped. She took a deep breath. "Madam, this is exactly how the soup taste here. I'm sorry if it's not to your standards."

"What?" she exclaimed and shot from her seat. Her loud voice had caused other diners to murmur among themselves. "You're saying my requests are tiring!"

"I did not say that." She leveled her voice, not wanting to rise against her provocation. "I'm saying your request is unreasonable."

"Look at this girl!" she scoffed. "I pay for your measly salary! The least you can do is follow my orders!"

"Seriously?" Amara knew she should clamp her mouth shut. But it was too late. There's no way she would let anyone insult her like this. "Who do you think you are? People come here to work, not to become your fucking slave."

She stepped forward, glaring at the woman. "You think you can buy me? Madam, your whole life is so diminutive that I could step on you and I wouldn't even know it. You can't do anything. Especially to a Luciano."

The woman's face paled before she rushed out in horror.

Amara basked in the satisfaction of putting the witch in her place. But her delight instantly vanished with Mallorie's upset look.

And as if to mock her, Amara's notifications blew up. She pulled her phone out. There were several mentions of her and a restaurant drama.

Several seconds later, someone tagged her in a video.

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