In my life as a waitress, I, Sephie

- an ordinary person - endured

the icy glares and insults of
customers while trying to earn a
living. I believed that this would
be my fate forever.
However, one fateful day, the
King of the Underworld appeared
before me and rescued me from
the clutches of the most
powerful Mafia boss's son. With
his deep blue eyes fixed on mine,
he spoke softly: "Sephie... short
for Persephone... Queen of the
Underworld. At last, I have found
you." Confused by his words, I
stammered out a question,
“P..pardon? What does that
mean?”

Chapter One

Sephie

I hear my white noise app cut off on my phone

and my alarm slowly getting louder.

I wait for the chiming bells to stop before I roll

over and hit the screen.

With a deep breath, I muster the energy to get

out of bed and drag myself to the shower.

Another glorious day in the life of waiting tables.

I stop myself from skipping to the shower I’m so

excited at the prospect of being yelled at by
angry customers again today. People are just
cranky lately.

After my shower, I make myself a quick

breakfast, even though it’s late afternoon.

Working the late shift means I miss the normal

breakfast time, but let’s be real.

Bacon can be enjoyed any time of the day.

Once the dishes are done and washed, I grab my

keys and my bag, locking the door on my way
out.

I live by myself.

It’s maybe not the best neighborhood, but all my

neighbors are really nice, and we keep an eye on
each other.

When I turn around after locking my door, I see

Mr. Turner walking up the steps to his apartment
across the hall from mine.

“Hello, Miss Sephie. Going anywhere exciting?”

He’s slowly climbing the stairs, with his groceries
in hand. It’s Thursday, after all. Mr. Turner always
stops by the grocery store on his way home on
Thursdays.

“Hi, Mr. Turner. On my way to work.

How was your day?

Have any excitement at the hotel today?”

“No, not today, but I’m thankful for boring days, if

I’m being honest.”

Mr. Turner worked the door at the most

expensive hotel downtown. He’s been the
doorman for 32 years and knows every single
influential person in the city as a result.

“Boring days give you more time to find my Mr.

Perfect, right? I like boring days too,” I chuckle.

Mr. Turner laughs as he reaches his door and

sets his groceries down to unlock it. “Don’t you
worry, Miss Sephie, I’ll find you the perfect man
one day. You deserve it.”

“I don’t know about that, but I’ll take all the help I
can get. Have a great night, Mr. Turner. I’ll see
you in the morning and as always, if you need
anything, you call me.” I waved goodnight to him
as he walked in his apartment.

My smile lingers as I jog down the steps to the

parking lot.

Having great neighbors really can make a huge

difference in your living situation.

Once I pull into the restaurant’s parking lot, I find

my normal parking space taken. I grumble to
myself as I am forced to park farther away from
the building now. I am nothing, if not a creature of
habit. Not getting my normal parking space
means this is going to be a rough night.

Hooray for Thursdays.

When I step out of my car, I notice the storm

clouds slowly rolling in. Inhaling deeply, I breathe
in the sweet scent of incoming rain and relish the
last moment of sanity before my shift starts. I can
do this.

It’s not just any Thursday. It’s the last Thursday

of the month, which means that all the crime
bosses in the city meet at this restaurant to
discuss “business.” They reserve the back room
and request that I serve them each time. I don’t
know if it’s because I’m quiet, keep my head
down most of the time, or if it’s because I can
remember what each boss likes and doesn’t like,
but they always request me. They always give
me a fantastic tip, so it makes having to wait on
known criminals somewhat manageable. Their
tips are single-handedly funding my savings
account, which means I’ll be able to move out of
my questionable neighborhood sooner, rather
than later.

“Hey Sephie. Are you coming inside or are you

just going to stand by your car with your eyes
closed like a psycho all night?”

“Shut-up, Max. I’m coming, I’m coming,” I say as

I run to catch up to him. Max is the bartender and
has his own fan club of women that come to the
restaurant solely to be served drinks by him. His
drinks aren’t special. He’s even admitted to
watering down their drinks most days. They just
want to stare at him while he smiles at them as
he serves them their Cosmopolitans.

Max is tall, muscular, but a slender muscular. He

looked like he could play in the NBA, not the
NFL. His dirty blonde hair was shorter on the
sides, but he was letting it grow longer on top. He
said the women loved slightly longer hair these
days, so he was conducting market research to
see if longer hair got him more tips. Max had a
boyish charm about him, but he knew how to use
his emerald green eyes to get the ladies. One
look from him and most women would swoon. I
was apparently immune to that look. He tried it
often on me, but I would laugh every time. He
said I was good for his humility, if nothing else.

“Were you meditating just now?

Do you need to find inner peace before the

meeting tonight?” he teased as he opened the
back door for me.

“I was trying to find the strength not to smack

you, a-hole,” I laughed as I walked into the
kitchen.

“Oh. You wound me.”

“I’m positive you will be able to find a woman to

nurse your wounds, in…approximately 30
minutes,” I say as I look at my watch to see how
long we have before the bar opens. From
Thursday to Sunday, the women flock to the bar
to see Max.

“But none of them will ever have my heart the

way you do, my little gingersnap,” he says as he
stands in front of me, leans into me, and gently
tucks a loose curl behind my ear. He adjusts my
thick braid over my shoulder and pretends to
adjust the collar on my shirt.

I stare deeply into his big green eyes, as his

fingers linger on my neck. Then I immediately
break character into a fit of laughter as he also
breaks and starts laughing.

“Go to work, Max.”

The black SUVs start arriving around 8 pm.

Max is completely swamped with single women

vying for his attention at the bar but still takes the
time to run back to the kitchen like he’s a 5-year-
old and yells, “THEY’RE HERE” and then runs
back to the bar. I shake my head, laughing at his
antics, take a deep breath, and steady myself for
the night ahead.

The six bosses each come to this meeting with at

least 2-4 additional people.

Some are bodyguards, some are their children,

and some are underbosses.

The bosses are all very respectful, as are the

bodyguards and the underbosses.

It’s the children that I loathe.

Sons of mafia bosses have the biggest egos I’ve

ever encountered and worse, they feel entitled to
act however they please. They’re handsy, they’re
rude, and they all think that I should be throwing
myself at them, simply because of who their
fathers are.

Luckily, they don’t come to every meeting, but

they’ll definitely be here tonight. Apparently, this
meeting is extra important as the main boss. the
overlord?

I don’t know what to call him.

Lord King Boss?

Feels right – the Lord King Boss – will be here

tonight. He rarely makes appearances in public,
so I’m a little at a loss as to what’s so important
that he would show up tonight, but I’m sure I’ll
get snippets throughout the night. Because I’m
always the one that takes care of this meeting, I
know more about the goings on in the city than I
probably should. I keep that information to
myself, of course. I’m not an idiot.

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