My Unfortunate Fairytale with the Son of a Mafia Boss- ON HOLD!!!!

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Ding. "order up!" Mikey shouted from the small window leading to the kitchens of catz's diner. i sighed, flashing a small smile to the large man behind the wall. He was one of the sweetest guys i knew, with a balding head and an adorable smile.

the platter i used to hold the assortement of dishes was stained from years of use and clumsiness. i heaved it onto my shoulder, gracefully moving out onto the floor where hungry customers awaited their orders.

right then a new customer came in and sat at the diner bench. he was tall with short messy brown hair that was styled in a careless manner.

he looked to be about 25 or something with olive toned skin and light green eyes. he was well beyond the usual people we got in here. He was handsome and sophisticated looking. a bigger looker if you know what i'm saying.

"i'll be right with you!" i called back to him, flashing a smile, as i balanced past a leaving couple.

"here you go guys." i smiled handing out the large 8 oz burgers to 5 burley high students. by the way they dressed and flirted shamelessly, i guessed they were football players.

"hey honey, do you mind giving me a new bottle of ketchup and your number?" one of the guys spoke up, wiggling his eyebrows. I thought i was pretty average looking with auburn hair and blue green eyes, but guys constantly found it a game to ask me every chance they got for my number or home adress.

i smiled kindly, "sorry hun, you ain't my type." i said as i threw him two packages of ketchup. his team mates burst in to a chorus of "burns" and "you got shafted" or whatever. i turned to leave but the guy had to say something to gain back some dignity.

"and what is your type?! greasy 40 year old men who can't get laid by women their own age?" the boys settled down, waiting for my response.

"i never got your name." i turned narrowing my eyes, acting cool.

"michael billings." the boy smirked. "okay then michael, my type is my own buisness, but i will tell you one thing. narcissitic stuck up rich egomaniacs such as yourself are definetly NOT on my list." i turned to leave when i decided to continue since i was on a roll.

"oh and a word to the wise, guys like you end up being those greasy 40 year old men who can't get laid by women their own age." with a mocking smile i turned on my heel and left the group of guys to holler at their buddy.

"Nice going Salara." billy costa high fived me as i passed by. Billy was a 60 year old regular who always came by for a coffee and a chat.

"thanks billy." i smiled before turning to the guy sitting in the stool. he was watching me carefully a lazy smile on his lips, that seemed to give him a boyish charm, but something about him still screamed DANGER!.

"so what'll it be sir?" i said grabbing a towel and a few wet glasses. "i'll have a cold one." he replied softly, the faint sounds of a bristish accent appearing.

"okay, a cold one it is." i smiled bending down, my hand reaching into the large bucket of ice and Richards Red. i pulled the cold bottle out wrapping the towel around its top and twisting with ease. I placed it down on the counter in front of me and slid it over to him.

he caught it with ease and brought it up to his lips, taking a large swig. "incoming Salara." billy muttered under his breath.

i glanced back and saw the michael kid making his way over to me. i sighed reaching down and grabbing my mace bottle.

"look lady i want you to apologize for humiliating me infront of my friends!" the guy ordered a small vein bulging slightly beneath his neck.

"i'm not going to apologize to you for something you brought upon yourself. Now sit down or get out." i ordered, placing a hand on my hip.

he raised his hand towards me, as if he were going to slap me, but i didn't flinch. he would see that this girl could take a hit from someone.

but the hand never got any closer because of a certain drop dead gorgeous samaritan with messy hair. he had strolled towards the michael guy his beer still in hand with an almost cocky air. the intruision of the british guy apparently distracted the football player off his game.

"don't you know its bad manners to raise your hand to a lady?" the guy questioned, his voice feining a bit of mockery and amusement. the michael boy looked at him as if he had three heads. "back off backstreet boy or your gonna get hurt." he growled stepping forward as if to enforce his threat.

"or what you and your little entourage gonna teach me a lesson?" he smiled taking a swig of his beer, while he gazed at the group of boys joining michael. "i don't think you want to wait until we do." michael glared his hands clenched at his sides. the british guys glanced at me and then burst into loud laughter.

he pointed to michael still laughing, before he placed his bottle down on the counter. "your a funny kid michael. hope you still have a sense of humour when i punch your two front teeth in." the british guy said in a serious tone. Thats when all hell broke loose.

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My unfortunate fairytale with the son of a mafia boss

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Rafael lazzinias Darien

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