Chapter 4

DAHLIA

No, I don’t regret the kiss.

“But I’m NOT a pervert. And I won’t let anyone talk to me with disrespect,”

Even if you are a six-foot-five load of sexy in a loose black shirt and jeans.

As if trying to process what I said, he briefly pauses, then looks at me with a strong gaze, all humor erased from his face. “What do you want?”

I step back, about to part my lips for a response, when the door swings open, and Loren barges in.

“Sir, Jordan just quit. And the customers are getting impatient. Ally and Jackson can’t handle the orders alone. I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m very great at taking orders.” I turn to him, victory beaming across my face. “What’ll be your order, sir?”

“No!” He shoots to his feet, fists tightened as they rest by his side. “I’m not going to let you work in my restaurant.”

“Sir? What do we do?” Loren asks, her foot tapering an impatient rhythm.

“I’ll do it. I’ll stand in for Jordan till we can get a substitute,” he announces, refusing to look in my direction, which I know is deliberate. Loren instantly stops her tapering, widening her eyes, speechless.

I match her expression but with a sly smile forming at the edges of my lips, of which I catch him throw a quick peek.

He doesn’t regret the kiss, either.

“I’ll watch,” I mumble before Loren interrupts, trembling in her voice.

“But sir, it’s been ages since you’ve waited on customers. Can you—”

“It doesn’t matter. Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he says, rolling his sleeves up to his elbow. “Let’s go. The customers are waiting.”

He brushes past me to the still-opened door as Loren jogs behind him.

Instinctively shrugging my shoulder, I follow suit as I close the door behind me and pace through the corridor until I reach the main room. But instead of the calming aura of the golden hue I met with earlier, the room was covered in dimly lit, heated gold. The chattering was louder, too, with more customers leaving than walking in.

I watch as he, in his majestic stature, taller than most of the standing figures, paces through the crowd, wavering his hand in an up-and-down motion in his attempt to calm the storm.

He reaches a customer, who tugs at his shirt—something I notice he instinctively frowns at, before forming an artificial smile across his face as he mouths the words, ‘I’m sorry, what would you like to order.’

The customer was a woman with blonde locks draping down her shoulders and a pearl earring to make a staple. But she didn’t seem as charming as she looked. Not with her furrowed brows and forehead creased into three lines, her veins popping out of her neck as she screamed at him.

Gosh, these folks are really angry, aren’t they?

I switch my gaze, scanning through the chaotic room and across many strange faces until I reach Loren, speaking to a customer but with the orders in her hand. As the customer slams his hands over the table and says things that bury into the rest of the other loud voices in the room, he gets up and flares his hands in the air before turning to leave.

Shit. Another customer is leaving.

Without a second thought, I rush to the front door, blocking the broad, dark-skinned man from accessing the handle.

“What is it?” he roars at me. “Move.”

“Hi, sir. My name is Dahlia, and I understand you’ve had a bad customer experience. But I think you’d be making a mistake to storm off like this.”

“What are you talking about…” he questions, his impatience about to hit me with a shove to the side.

“Look, out of the 60 restaurants in this mall, you decide to come here. If not for anything, it’s because you like the food here or maybe the room’s ambiance.” As soon as I see his shoulders relax and his scrunched face rest into his natural features, I continue. “A staff member has left us because his mom passed away. And we are trying to sympathize with him as much as we try to satisfy you. Please understand that this is not how we are.”

“I-I didn’t know that. I’m sorry,” his voice calmer and softer with a sorry look.

Without saying anything else, he pivots, facing the room and calling, “Hey!” Everyone stops as they face him, including Loren and him, his eyes brewing angrily.

“This lady here has explained what happened to Seb’s place. And I believe we can sympathize with them!”

“Who the hell are you?” a male’s voice leaps from the audience nonchalantly.

“It doesn’t matter who I am. A staff here just lost a parent, and we all know how traumatic that can be for those who can relate. So please, they are just trying to operate with a few staff off duty for the day.”

The room grows silent as if trying to process his announcement before a female’s voice jumps out, ripping the cloud of silence enveloping us. “Hey! That’s Bob Flynn, the café critic!”

I take a look at the man as he stands in front of me, and I see his jotting pad tucked into his belt.

Jackpot!

With a sly smile, I drift my lazy eyes over to him, his eyes widening at the revelation.

Now, he’ll have no choice but to hire me.

Like he truly knows this mystery man, he springs forward with a huge grin plastered across his face as he meets us where we stand. His hands protrude forward as if requesting a handshake as he says, “Gosh, Mr. Flynn, I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you right away. My name’s Sebastian. The owner of this place. I’m so sorry for the…”

“No, it’s okay,” Bob starts, and for some reason, everyone, including Loren, is still glued to our direction, but this time, with a relaxed aura. “This lady here,” Bob continues, glancing over his shoulders to look at me before he turns to face him, “is a…”

I don’t hear the rest of what he says because of my straying thoughts.

Seb’s Place? Sebastian! He IS the owner. He wasn’t lying at all. He truly owns a restaurant!

I step out from my thoughts with a huge smile reaching up to my ears as I fold my hands across my chest, sort of like Superman.

“...she’s an awesome staff, you have to keep her, ‘cause she just saved your restaurant some bad reviews from my end,” is all I hear before I catch Sebastian throwing me a quick ‘thank you’ look before leading Bob to his seat.

“Let’s eat!” Bob announces as he takes his seat. A male staff with the same skin color and dreaded hair runs to meet him, already taking his order.

As the restaurant settles, Sebastian circles his grip around my arm, yanking me. “Follow me!”