HELENA
Entering the VIP section, I was met with three men deep in conversation. One sat at the far end of the booth. Another was on the edge, a woman comfortably settled on his lap. But the one who caught my attention, the one I couldn't stop staring at the man seated in the middle.
He was built like a tank. Muscles strained against his black shirt, and judging by the long stretch of his legs in dark green trousers, I guessed he was at least six foot seven.
I couldn't see his eye color because he was facing the man on the edge of the booth. I kept staring until a cough snapped me back to reality.
"Who are you?" the man on the edge asked sharply.
"E-eh sorry. I'm here to take your order, sirs," I said, heat rushing to my cheeks.
Immediately, I felt the weight of someone's gaze. The man in the middle turned toward me, and our eyes locked. That was when I saw them.
Dark grey.
Beautiful. Dangerous.
"Why are you just standing there?" the man with the lady on his lap said. "Come closer and take our order."
I stepped forward and began writing, but I could still feel it that stare from The dark grey eyed man.
Why did I even call him that? God, I'm such a fool. It's not like I know his name.
"What's your name, kitten?"
The deep voice, wrapped in a thick Italian accent, sent a shiver straight through my body.
"Helena, sir," I replied softly, blushing like an idiot.
He said nothing else just nodded.
After serving their drinks and meals, I excused myself and returned to finish the rest of my shift.
By 9 p.m., I was finally off duty. The thought of going home brought a familiar ache to my chest my father. The man who hated me because my mother died giving birth to me. He always said I killed her with my foolish existence.
Growing up was hell. My father never cared for me; he only fulfilled my mother's dying wish to send me to school. After I finished high school, he lost his job when someone leaked private company files, causing the business to go bankrupt.
Since I turned sixteen, I've struggled to pay house bills. My father couldn't anymore, he turned to gambling and drinking after losing his job. That was when I started working as a server at this restaurant, three years ago.
I never had a boyfriend. I never had time.
The only person I had was my best friend, Zoey, who moved to London to study. We talked through video calls. She was the only one who knew about my life and my pain. She wanted to help, but I refused. I didn't want to be a burden or a charity case.
When I got home, I froze.
Four cars were parked outside our house.
My first thought was that they were my father's friends, he sometimes brought people over to drink and talk nonsense. But the moment I stepped inside, my heart dropped.
The house was filled with men.
And sitting beside my father was him.
The man from the VIP booth.
Our eyes met the moment the door closed.
"Hey, Helena," my father said.
"Good evening, Dad," I replied, breaking eye contact with the man beside him. "What's going on here?"
"We meet again, kitten," the dark-grey-eyed man said, his deep voice sending unwanted heat through my body.
"H-hi," I muttered, blushing again.
What is wrong with me? Must be my hormones.
"You know my daughter?" my father asked.
"Of course," the man replied with a smirk.
"Helena, meet Mr. Vincenzo Esposito. Mr. Esposito, meet my daughter," my father said, frowning.
"Nice meeting you, sir," I said politely, forcing myself not to stare.
I was almost inside my room when I heard Vincenzo's next words, words that stopped me cold.
"I don't want the money anymore," Vincenzo said calmly. "I want your daughter as replacement."
"No," my father pleaded. "I'll get your money. Just give me one more week, I promise."
"For eight months, you've said the same thing," Vincenzo snapped. "You don't get a say."
"Send your daughter to me tomorrow," he continued coldly, "or you die."
Tears streamed down my father's face. "No, I can't do that."
"What did you say?" Vincenzo asked, pulling out a gun. "Do you want me to shoot you right now and take her by force?"
I didn't think.
I ran.
I threw myself in front of my father, shielding him with my body. Even if he treated me like trash, even if he hated me, he was still the only family I had.
And I wasn't going to let him die.
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