The Bet

3) Sam

  I headed to the diner bright and early the next morning after dropping Mikey off at school.

I seriously contemplated taking today off as a reward for a clean sweep at my night job last night, but Michael's birthday is coming up and I want to save up to get something good.

The day went unbearably slowly all the way until the sun set and my rowdy group of boys waltzed in to claim their usual seats.

  Andrew and the other working waitress both shot me a nervous glance.

  I just pulled my note pad out of my apron and walked over to the group without a word. I know the drill.

  I approached the table and my converse squeaked to a stop on the tile floor as I noticed a new addition to their usual posse.

  She's a jaw droppingly gorgeous woman clad in a white suit, light pink corset top that she fills out oh so nicely, and Gucci belt accented with chains that match the ones around her neck.

  I feel like a bug standing next to someone this gorgeous and expensive, not to mention confident. I know the actual boss of this establishment, and I still feel like she owns the place.

Also, how did she manage to make me feel under dressed in my own diner?

  That thought made me realize the guys are also acting significantly more civilized in her presence than usual.

  My eyes darted around the table at all of them.

  They're in suits.

  Mr. Domino is the only odd one out, in dress pants and a button up — even his brother is in a jacket — but heck, I never thought I'd catch him dead in more than gray sweats that make his dick look huge and a plain t-shirt that hugs his biceps nicely.

  Despite that, here he is. Here all of them are, looking hot as all heck in their perfectly fitted suits.

This table is like every bisexual's dream.

  I've always been intimidated by the men, I know who they are and what they do, but now with their new addition and attire, they have a whole new air of wealth and power to them that makes my hands shake.

  Who is this woman and why does she have the power to make these gangsters act like humans and not gremlins?

  All the possible answers are what made my voice uneven when I spoke up. "Um," I cleared my throat roughly after it cracked. "What can I get y'all today?" I smiled nervously.

  The men stayed silent and watched the mystery woman as she leisurely skimmed over the menu.

  Holy shoot, who the hell is this lady.

  I couldn't help but notice that when she reached for the menu, her fingers were perfectly manicured with acrylic nails on all ten fingers. . . With two fingers on each hand shaved down to be short and round instead of long and sharp.

  I gulped involuntarily, then forced my eyes back to her face to take her order.

This is not the time or place to think about why she chose to do that.

  She bit one of her full lips and hummed, "I can't decide, what do you recommend, Sam?"

  I sputtered and nearly dropped my notepad.

  How does she know my name?!

  "Name tag," she smiled and tapped her chest on the side that my name tag resides after watching my shocked reaction.