"Where's my god-damned order at, for fuck's sake? I've been waiting here for over thirty minutes." I rolled my eyes as I moved to the kitchen to get the order before this guy started to chew my ear off. Again. Not my fault he came to the cheapest café-slash-bar in Las Vegas and expected quick service. Ah, men. "Trina, the guy who ordered the grilled cheese sandwich is getting real cracky and is on my last nerve right now. So, for the love of everything lovable, if you do not want to see one of your precious customers in a body bag, then please... hand the order over right now," I said, stressing the please. "Oh, quit being overdramatic. There's only so much an oldie like me can do around here." "So, you do agree you're old, huh?" "Well, duh. Have you seen me? I'm all wrinkly and bones. No one is ever going to imagine that I was a little vixen back in my day. Ouuu, girl, I was getting d**ks like candy. My favorite was my night with Greyson. The man knows how to make a lady's wet dreams come true. He made me come like I had never come before, and let's not forget that tongue-the way he licked my-" "What the fuck! Trina, why would you say something like that? I officially need to bleach my ears and maybe my whole body. I still wonder why a 72-year-old woman has the mouth of an 18-year-old. I didn't think it was possible, but congratulations-you've scarred me for life." She just cackled like the witch that she was and finally gave me my order. Oh, my cheesy cheese, it smells heavenly. How can a menace like her make delicious masterpieces like this? It's just not fair. "Oh, please... you'll know what I mean when you're my age, all old and wrinkly. That's why the best advice I'd give you, as a wise old lady, is: get as much d**k as you can while you still can, but always use protection. You only live once, baby girl." Then she proceeded to wink. Oh, hell no. I grabbed the plate of sizzling grilled cheese sandwich and ran the fuck out. As the proper lady I am, I made sure to slam the kitchen door shut because the woman in there was a danger to humanity. Aren't I the best? I slowed down and stopped running. I started wondering how and why my Black, 72-year-old boss and café chef had the mouth of a dirty sailor. Who made her such a nuisance to society? Why did I have to be her favorite, for fuck's sake? Of course I'm her favorite. That woman loves me to bits, and I love her more. But I'm never telling her that. Her ego is already as big as the Statue of Liberty as it is, so the only option I have is to be bitchy to her. When I got back to the counter to give the cranky guy his sandwich, I couldn't find him. I thought this guy was hungry, so where did he disappear to? And then I saw him, groping the newbie in the ass. Oh, he is so dead. Still with the sandwich in hand, I sucked in a long breath and slowly let it out. Then I counted from one to ten. When I was done, I put on the sweetest smile ever and sashayed to his table. He just looked at me, rolled his eyes, and continued with his business. Yup. He definitely has a death wish, and I'll happily fulfill his wish for him. "Hello, sir. I've got your order with me right now. My deepest apologies for taking so long. The chef just had some issues in the kitchen." "Oh, that's quite okay. But next time, it wouldn't kill you guys to be quick. After all, I'm a regular here, and I deserve special treatment, ya got that?" he said, smiling up at me with his yellow, rotten teeth, still not leaving the newbie alone. Still with my sweet-as-sugar smile, I replied, "Loud and clear, sir. In fact, the chef told me you were the most important customer in here and instructed me to treat you with utmost care. She even told me to give you one of our never-seen-before specials." The fucker had the audacity to smile even wider, blessing us with more disgusting teeth, and decided it was the best time to tap the newbie's ass. She was sheet-white now. "That's what I like to hear. So, tell me, beautiful, what's the name of this special?" Okay, now I'm really pissed. How dare he? Still boiling with rage, I managed to keep my smile. "It's called Bitch-Faced with a Grilled Cheese." Before he could blink, I slammed the sizzling grilled cheese square in his face. He jumped out of his seat and groaned in pain, finally letting the newbie go. She was clearly shaken because she just stood there, staring at nothing. The whole café went dead quiet. Everyone just watched the drama unfold. "Hey," I called out to her. Still nothing. So, I walked up to her, held her hand, took her to an empty seat, and sat her down. "I'll be right back. Okay?" I said softly. She nodded. Or at least I think she did. I turned back to face the douchebag. He was blindly reaching around for the napkins usually kept beside the condiments. I'll be damned if I let his pain go away. I grabbed his arm tightly, yanking him back before his fingers could even touch the napkins. He flinged. Good. "Looking for these?" I asked, holding the napkin dispenser in front of him, smiling way too wide. I mean, why wouldn't I? This is fun. He blinked, his face red from the sandwich, and tried to pull away.I didn't let go. Not a chance. "Let me go, you stupid bitch," he hissed. Now that made me smile wider. "Ah-ah-ah, that's not gonna happen, old man. Do you know why?" "I said leave me the fuck alone." "Not what I asked. Again, do you know why?"I said, digging my nails deeper into his arm for more effect. He squirmed harder. Ah...what a beautiful sight. "W-why?" "Atta boy. Now, was that so hard to say? Hm?" I asked, raising my brows at him. "You see that girl over there?" I nodded to the direction of where the newbie was seated. "She may not have told you to let her go, but her body did, but did you listen?" He said nothing. "Answer me. Did you or did you not listen?" "No, I didn't. But I swear, if I knew it would have been like this, I wouldn't have done anything to her." "What's your name?" "Jonathan." "So, Jonathan, does that mean if I didn't intervene, you'd continue to grope an innocent girl who's old enough to be your daughter? That is, if you even have one. Do you have a daughter?" He avoided my gaze. Fucker literally looked everywhere and anywhere but me. "Yes." "How old is she?" "12." "I feel sorry for her. You're such a sorry excuse for a father." And he had the audacity to look sad. Talk about pathetic. "Apologize." Looking confused, he said, "Wait, what?" "I didn't stutter." I deadpanned. "Why am I apologizing?" The nerve of this guy. "For assaulting a minor, being an asshole dad, being a whiny little bitch... Oh, and let's not forget about your terrible dental care, cause dude have you seen your teeth. So yeah, I think that'd be all." "You fucking psycho! Who the fuck do you think you are?" "Someone who didn't stutter." I swear, he looked like a pressure cooker about to blow. "Alright, I'm getting bored. Apologize so we can get this over with.Or do we have something else to say?" I asked, now holding his pointer and middle fingers. I bent them just slightly-just enough to make him flinch. His expression changed immediately. Any sign of defiance was long gone. Only pain was written on his face. Just pain. Sweet, delicious pain. "I-I'm sorry." "Not to me. I'm not the one you bothered." He turned toward the newbie and muttered, "I'm sorry." "Sorry? She can't hear you." I said, enjoying every single bit of his suffering. I bent his hand even more, just for a little motivation. And that seemed to do the trick. His breath hitched. Now we're getting somewhere. "O-okay! Okay!" he gasped, the words tumbling out too fast. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I'll never touch you inappropriately ever again." I smirked in satisfaction. "Now that's better." Still holding his fingers, I turned around and scanned the café, making sure I had everyone's attention before announcing. "As you guys know, T's is a well-known establishment that's a café in the mornings and a bar at night. Yes, she's a bit rough around the edges, but with that being said, we have a zero-tolerance policy against sexual assault and harassment. Meaning: when a girl or guy says no, it means no. So, you fucking drop it and move on. If you don't want to listen and accept the rules like sensible human beings, then be my guest. There's plenty of food and drink to be shoved into any motherfucker's ass. Try me." I turned my attention back to my recent victim and smiled from ear to ear like a possessed clown. "Never, and I mean ever, forcefully touch any girl, and I'll make sure you have something to remind you. Always." As I was about to say bye-bye to his fingers, all of the sudden, I was hauled away like a sack of potatoes. What the hell! Someone's about to die, and I don't care when or how. I just know this person is about to get it. Before I could even wrap my head around what the heck was going on, I was dropped down like a used tampon. Hard. Ouch. I tried to balance myself properly, but the ground was already tilting. After what felt like an eternity, I finally got myself together, and I was more than ready to take that asshole on. I looked up to get it on, only to be greeted by what I thought was the most beautiful shade of blue eyes. And oh, they were glaring at me.

For half a second, I forgot all about being pissed. I could only focus on those eyes. They were beautiful, icy blues-intimidating yet gorgeous. Get-you-killed-in-an-alley-but-in-a-peaceful-type-of-way blue. And they were pissed. "Are you done?" a voice said. Low. Rough. Like gravel mixed with expensive whiskey. I heard a hint of an accent in it. He smelled like cedarwood, expensive cologne, and trouble. I looked up. Really looked this time. He looked like he was five times my age. The first thing I noticed was his height. He was tall-really fucking tall-and built like a tank. My 5'4" ass didn't even come close to measuring up to him. He wore a crisp black shirt with three buttons undone, teasing a glimpse of the tattoos on his chest. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong, inked forearms. His black dress pants and shiny black shoes completed his polished look. Dark, wavy hair was thick and tousled, with a few strands falling across his forehead. Sharp features, a strong jaw, faint stubble, and a full neck tattoo gave him a rugged edge. Holy shit. Was this guy wearing glasses? How the hell did I not notice that? Instead of making him look less attractive, they somehow made him look even more striking. Holy hotness. He was the definition of rugged yet polished. He looked like an absolute temptation with his hands in his pockets, and he knew it. He looked completely out of place here. I wondered what a guy like him was looking for in a place like this. I think I've been bitch-slapped by this gorgeous man's entire existence bitch. Why is he looking at me weirdly? Oh yeah. I've been eating him up with my eyes like a hungry little bitch for God knows how long. Get a grip, Maya. This man literally threw you down like a bag of onions. "Done staring?" What?! "I wasn't checking anyone out," I lied through my teeth. "Whatever makes you sleep at night, I guess." He shrugged. Okay, fuck this guy. Just because he was older and a complete smoke show didn't mean he had the right to boss me around. I'm not some child he could dismiss. "What the hell is your problem? You don't just carry some random girl and throw her to the ground." "You were about to break his fingers." I glanced behind him at Jonathan, who was still standing there, looking like he'd just witnessed World War III. "So? He clearly deserved it." "That wasn't the question." "Then make a better one," I retorted. His jaw tightened. For some reason, that tiny movement made me want to annoy him even more. Bring it on, stronzo. Translation: Asshole. "You always poke your nose into other people's business?" "Are you always this dumb?" he shot back. Oh no, he did not just say that. He absolutely did not just call me dumb. "Okay, you listen up, buster. You do not just come in here with that big, brooding attitude of yours, carry me like a fucking caveman, and expect me to treat you like it's all cookies and rainbows." "Again, I say, you were about to break his fingers. Or do you want me to give you that in writing?" he said, folding his arms like he was talking to a child. That pissed me the fuck off. Something caught my eye-his inked hands. I hated how incredibly sexy they looked and how much they added to his appearance. God, no one was meant to be this attractive, and that made me even angrier. "Oh, fuck you." "You wish, little girl." "The fuck did you just call me?" "Little girl," he said, looking bored. "Then you're what? Daddy?" I replied sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. He stared at me for a long moment. I saw a flicker of something I couldn't quite put my finger on, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. If I hadn't been paying attention, I would've missed it. Without so much as a word, he walked past me and left, leaving me totally pissed. Well, good riddance. I finally paid attention to my surroundings and realized we'd gathered quite an audience. "Okay, everyone, show's over. Back to what you all were doing," I said, making my way over to where the newbie was seated. She was looking much better. On my way there, I "accidentally" stepped on Jonathan's foot. Hard. Oops. "Hey there," I greeted. "Hi," she replied shyly. "How are you feeling now?" "I'm fine now, thank you," she said, but it felt like she wanted to say something else. "Thank you for standing up for me," she added, avoiding my eyes. "Oh, that was nothing. But I do have something to ask." She nodded. "What's your name, and how old are you?" I asked. "I'm Sophie, and I'm sixteen years old." Un-fucking-believable. I knew she was a minor, but sixteen. Fuck. That douchebag was groping a fucking sixteen-year-old. She was three years younger than me, but still a literal kid. Goddammit. Now I really hated that blue-eyed asshole for stopping me from breaking his fingers. I should have done more than step on his foot. But that didn't stop me from finishing what I started. After all, I'm not one to leave things halfway. "Just give me a minute. I'll be right back. Okay?" I said, then left without waiting for her response and headed right back to my dear friend, Jonny Boy. "W-what are you-FUCK!" There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Mission accomplished. I'd like to see him use those dirty things to touch another girl. At the end of the day, I got what I wanted. Guess patience really was the best virtue. I walked back to Sophie. "All done." Then I went back to the counter. Sophie looked like she might pass out at any moment. Jonathan was groaning on the floor, nursing his injured hand, while everyone else just looked at me like they'd just witnessed a live exorcism. I rolled my eyes. And Trina says I'm overdramatic. At least this place is quiet for once. Maybe this day is actually going in my favor. And then my mind wandered back to the incident with the blue-eyed asshole. Fuck me. Talk about a mood changer. I hope I never see that man again. Ever.

"I swear I know nothing." Crack. My fist connected with his face. His head snapped to the side, making his chair scrape against the concrete floor. The room went silent. I flexed my fingers before lowering my hand. "Let's try this again." "Where were you last night at exactly 10:30 PM?" "At one of my side pieces' places." "Doing what exactly?" "S-spending a n-night with her." "Are you sure you didn't go anywhere else, huh?" I rested a hand against my chin, pretending to consider the bullshit Sergei was feeding me. His eyes began to sparkle with hope. If I had a funny bone in my body, I'd find this funny. But I don't. I find it downright pathetic. "So let me get this straight. You were busy in a hotel room, fucking like rabbits, exactly twenty minutes before the shipment of firearms was stolen?" "Y-yes." He swallowed. Men like Sergei let power get to their heads. They think they're gods all because they're in the Bratva, acting tough. But they're as important as a piece of lint and very much replaceable. I'm familiar with his type. They're always easy to break, especially in situations like this. "Sergei." "Y-yes," he replied, still with that glint of hope in his eyes. Pity. I looked him square in the eyes, hands in my pockets. "Do you know what I find interesting about liars?" He swallowed. "They don't know when to stop. They get themselves killed in the process." I paused before continuing. "Do you want to be put in an early grave, hm, Sergei?" His expression faltered. "Zakhar, please." "It's Pakhan to you." Then he began to cry. "Pakhan, please. I don't want to die." "Then you should have told me the truth when you had the chance." With that, I pulled my gun from my waistband and fired. He looked like he'd pissed and shit himself in one go, staring at his newly holed leg. It almost made me laugh. Almost. "FUCK! Okay, okay. Wait, please. Just wait. Fuck." He sputtered, sweating bullets. With a gun in hand, I smirked. "I'm listening." "I-I-I-I-" "I don't have all day. Whatever you want to say, say it now." "I swear I don't know anything. Please, just let me go." Then he began to cry again. A grown-ass man weeping like a child. This man was the embodiment of pathetic at this point. So I shot his other leg. He yelped in pain, straining against the ropes around his wrists. "Help me! Someone, anyone. Please help me. I don't want to die." He kept screaming for help. I chuckled darkly, amused by his stupidity. This place had no windows. No distractions. Just a concrete floor, a single flickering ceiling light, a metal table, one chair, and enough silence to make even the most confident man question his choices. Everything was soundproof. The perfect setting for torture. So his cries were baseless. A waste of time. After several minutes, he finally got the memo. "What do you want to know?" So he's not as dumb as he looks. I cut straight to it. "Who sent you?" He hesitated. "Careful with your answer. It just might save you." "I honestly don't know who." I raised an eyebrow. "I just got a call from a guy. He said he'd pay me a ton of money if I could get the firearms to him instead of our usual place. He sent me the location and instructions. Told me to leave them there, leave my phone, and take the suitcases of money. I swear, that's all I know." "Did you see anyone there?" "No, I didn't." Well, shit. I was still racking my brain over what to do with this new issue when Sergei interrupted me. "Since I helped you, you're going to let me go, right?" I wanted to laugh. "What made you think that?" "You promised to let me go if I talked," he said, fear and rage mixing in his tone. "I made no such promises. You were the one who assumed you were safe." I shrugged. "B-b-but-" "But nothing. You betrayed your mafia for some cash that's probably halfway gone by now." "Please, you can't do this to me. I've been loyal to the Mikhails for years and never asked for anything. I just made one mistake. One single mistake. Please, I won't do it ever again." He rambled on and on. "Proshchay, Sergei. Nadeyus', tvoy put' v ad budet takim zhe muchitel'nym, kak i tvoya smert'." Translation: "Goodbye Sergei. I hope your journey to hell is as painful as your death." "Wait, wait-" Bang. Bang. Silence. I adjusted my shirt and stepped out. "Clean this up." One of my men nodded. I barely made it two steps down the hallway before Kirill, my best friend and right-hand man, greeted me. His hair was in a messy man bun, as usual. "Done already?" he asked, falling into step beside me. I glanced at him. "Was I meant to stay in there forever?" He gave me a look. "No. But I expected you to be in there for another 25 minutes." "He got on my nerves." He chuckled. We continued down the hallway, our footsteps echoing against the marble floor. Kirill's phone suddenly began ringing. He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Mrs. Zorin ❤️ His expression immediately softened. "Duty calls. I'll be right back," he said, excusing himself. I still can't believe my once woman-allergic friend is now p***y-whipped and at his wife's beck and call. Now that they're back from their honeymoon, he's even more obsessed with her than ever. I'm glad he has Audrey. I wouldn't have asked for a better partner for him. When I got to my office, my thoughts drifted back to the mouthy girl I'd encountered a few days ago. I still remember the way those silver-grey orbs glowed at me with defiance. Challenging me. The long, jagged scar that slashed vertically from her forehead, through her right eye, and down to the middle of her cheek. Her many ear piercings. Her hoop nose ring. The tattoos on her arms that told so many stories. Despite the ugly scar, it only served to heighten her beauty. She looked like the goddess of war. Breathtakingly gorgeous. But that damn mouth of hers ruined everything. She had a terrible temper. Really annoying. The kind that made her speak before thinking and look at people like she had nothing to lose. Simply reckless. And that attitude of hers? I hated it. I hated the way she challenged me. The way she got under my fucking skin. No one had ever done that. Not even my annoying-ass brother, Ilya. And trust me when I say, he's a real piece of work. But at least I love him. I dropped into my chair and loosened my tie. But that girl was too reckless, too cocky, and too confident for my liking. Every single thing about her. I hated it. And her. I hope I never see her again. She may be little, but she's wrapped in an entire bubble wrap of trouble.