Chapter One

Bella

"Here you go, ma'am." "I hope you enjoy your meal," I say with a fake smile, which I had perfected over the last few weeks since I started this job.

"Bella, table ten has been left unattended to." Josh, the owner of the restaurant tells me to leave the table immediately.

"On it."

Night shifts are typically the busiest and most stressful.The good thing is, busier shifts come with more tips. I've been working since 11 a.m., and I felt completely exhausted. I'm sure the dark circles under my eyes were more noticeable now, but I didn't have time to think about them as I walked between tables with trays stacked untop of each other.

Being a waitress wasn't exactly what I wanted for myself, and it wasn't such a high-paying job either, especially since I was working my ass off to save for college and to pay for my mom's medication. My former job had been good, and I was able to save a little during that period. I was a nurse for Mrs. Paula, an elderly woman, and she treated me really well. The pay was the best part of the job. It wasn't too much, but it wasn't bad either. Everything came crashing down when her son came to visit and began hitting on me. I tried rejecting his advances politely at first, but he was persistent and just wouldn't stop pestering me. I finally pushed him off me one day when he tried to forcefully kiss me, and when I came to work the next day, I was thrown out by security.

"How's it goin'?" Jared asks as I walk past the bar. Josh's Place is both a restaurant and a bar hence the very busy Friday nights. I smile at him, a tired smile, and he notices.

"It could be worse," I say with a light chuckle, and he frowns at me.

"You've been at it since morning Bella."You need a break."

"Well, I need money more," I say, and he laughs, shaking his head.

"Just take it easy sometimes, okay?" He says.

He's a big guy. Tattoos all over his arms, with long hair giving an overall intimidating look. But he was also soft and caring—a side of him that reminded me of my father.

I tap him on the shoulder as I start to walk back to the kitchen.

"I'll be alright," I call out.

I'm met with the clanging of pots and pans, a lot of cutting, and a mixture of aromas the moment I enter the kitchen.

"Hey," I mumble as I approach Claire, one of the cooks who was also my friend and roommate.She was the one who had introduced me to Josh, the owner of the restaurant, and helped me get this job two weeks ago. As she was about to give me a reply, Josh busted into the kitchen.

"We need as many hands as we can possibly get outside," he says, and someone immediately replies, "What you need, sir, is to hire more staff."

Everyone laughs, including Josh.

One of the things I've noticed since I started working here is that Josh was a friendly and easygoing guy. He had no problem joking with his workers and even some of his customers. It's a shame he didn't get married, nor did he have any children. But he seemed happy and content with life, and that's all that mattered.

"Are you going to take her shift again tomorrow?"Claire asks me, and I nod.

"You should just ask Josh to put you on the night shift instead." "I'm sure he won't refuse," she says as she chops some potatoes.

The thing is, I know he won't refuse, but I need the money from the two shifts. Mom's health had begun to deteriorate again, and I wouldn't be able to afford her drugs if I didn't work this hard. And I don't think I'll be able to get a job that pays me anything close to what Mrs. Paula paid, especially since I only had high school certificates.

"Okay," I say instead.

The door bursts open, and Mary, another waitress, comes in.

"Please, can you take my table?" she says to me. "I don't think I feel well."

"Oh. What's wrong?" I ask, taking note of her pale skin.

"I think I'm down with the flu or something Will contacted from school." Will was her five-year-old son.

"Yeah, sure."

"Thank you so much. It's table thirteen. "And I think there's someone there now," she says.

"Okay."

I leave the kitchen and subconsciously plaster on my fake smile as I approach the table. Seated there was a man in a suit, and as I got closer, I noticed how crisp and expensive his clothes looked. They must have been tailored specifically for him. He was doing something on his phone, so I had to get his attention.

"Are you ready to order?" I say, trying not to sound as tired as I felt.

He looks up at me, and I freeze. The man staring at me has green eyes—the kind of green that pierces into your soul. His eyes were framed with thick eyebrows and eyelashes too long to belong to a man. I urged my eyes not to look further, but they had a mind of their own as they admiringly swept down his face.

"This man is beautiful", I muttered under my breath.

"Yes, I am ready," he says, then looks at my name tag and adds, "Bella."

There was something about the way he said my name. It made me feel something I hadn't felt in a long time.

"What would you recommend?" he said after doing a brief scan of the menu.

I coughed to clear my throat. "Um, the Friday special is good," I said in a small voice.

"Then it's the Friday special."

I turn to leave and resist the urge to turn and spare him one more glance. I'm sure I'll be flushed by the time I get to the kitchen to get his order ready.

"One Friday special, please," I say and take a deep breath.

"Whoa," Claire says as she approaches me."Isn't that Logan?" "It's been a while since he came here," she tells me, and I frown.

"Who's Logan?"

She gives me a look. The look that say "you can't really be serious".

"You don't know Logan?" She asks, and I shake my head.

"No, I don't".

"He's like the youngest millionaire in town." Hot, wealthy, and everything a girl desires in a man."I can't believe you don't know him," she says as she turns me to face him. The guy I just served.

I knew it. His suit looked expensive.

He was smiling at Josh now, and I felt flustered. He had such a lovely smile. Bright and...real. I can't remember the last time I smiled so genuinely. Life's been shit.

"He and our boss have a father-son relationship." "I don't know how they met but it's kind of cute," Claire says, and I turn to look at her. She had a pink hue on her cheeks, and I felt a surge of jealousy in me. But why should I be jealous? I don't even know this guy.

"Mm," is all I say as I grab the tray that had his order and head for the table. Halfway through, he turns and looks at me. My knees almost buckle at the way he looks.

Why is his gaze so intense? As I try to walk without wobbling, I wonder to myself.

"I'll leave you to eat your food," Josh was saying as I approached.

"Let her stay," Logan said. The request wasn't directed at me but at Josh, but his eyes were on mine. I wasn't sure I wanted to sit with this man. He intimidated the hell out of me.

"Bella?" Josh asks, and Logan nods.

"Well, she has to work." "You know I have a shortage of staff," Josh says, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Have I ever asked you for anything?" Logan says it in that deep, gravelly voice.

"Don't blackmail me," Josh says, but there's a hint of amusement in his voice.

I look at Josh and hope he sees the silent plea in my eyes. He sighs.

"Fine. "She can stay only if she wants to."

"No. I wanted you to order me to get back to work," I quietly muttered under my breath.

Josh leaves, and I'm left with this man. The restaurant is full and noisy, but at this moment, it felt like it was just the two of us.

"So, what do you say, Bella?" Sit with me?"

I don't say anything. Instead, I slide myself into the seat across from him. His lips tug upward in a small smirk. He dives into his food, and for the first time, I was actually nervous about what his opinion of the food would be. He's rich and loaded, so I'm sure he's eaten foods a lot fancier than this. The Friday special was a meal consisting of chicken kebab, pasta, and tossed salad. It's my personal favorite, and I just recommended it because that was the only thing I could think of as he was staring at me.

"Mm," he says as he takes a piece of chicken from the kebab.

"How is it?" I ask, and he nods.

"Delicious."

one word, but it made a smile appear on my face.

"So why do you want me to sit here with you?" I ask, and he replies in a beat.

"Because I want you to."

I don't know why, but I found myself irked by his statement. So what? Everyone should just do whatever he likes because that's what he wanted?

"And why should I, a complete stranger, do what you want?" I blurted the words out without thinking.

What the fuck am I doing? He's clearly a rich guy. He's also friends with Josh. I could immediately lose my job because I couldn't keep my mouth shut.

But to my surprise, he chuckled. It was a deep, rich sound, and I wanted him to do it again.

"Because you want to," he says with a smirk, and my face heats up.

He was right. I only sat here because I wanted to, which shouldn't be happening because I was not interested in this guy or anything he wants—or anything my starving hormones wanted either. And I'm annoyed that he's right, because why would I not want to sit with him, a total stranger. A hot, sexy stranger...

He kept looking at my face with an unreadable expression, and I couldn't help but feel nervous.

I took a deep breath and forced the words out of my mouth. "Well, I just didn't want to be rude."

Bullshit...

"But since you don't seem to understand that, I'll just make it clear to you that I'm not interested in anything you might want in the future," I said, because I would hate to lead this man on.

He chuckles again, and I start getting irritated by the passing minute. I think my period is coming because what's up with the rapid mood swings?

"I just wanted you to sit with me." "You're the only one who's thinking about the future."

I scoff because I couldn't help it.

"Are you always this egotistical?"

"Do you always use outdated vocabulary?" He shoots back and immediately goes back to slurping his pasta.

I shoot him a glare. "Nothing about that word is outdated," I defend, and he smirks. I find myself annoyed by the fact that he seemed to be enjoying this back-and-forth argument.

"I've been called self-centered, even arrogant, but never had someone call me egotistical," he says, then adds, "I approve."

I shake my head in disbelief. I can't believe I'm sitting with a total stranger who is apparently a billionaire while I'm supposed to be working, arguing about synonyms.

"Well, it's a good thing I don't care about your approval," I bite out, and he looks at me again.

I have a love-hate relationship with the way he looks at me. His gaze makes me feel naked—not physically. It's like he can see right through me, like he can see everything I don't want people to see.

"What are you scared of, Bella?" He asks softly, and I falter. I'm taken aback by the suddenness of his question and by the truth in his words.

I abruptly stand and, without sparing him a glance, I leave. My breath comes out in a heaving mess by the time I get to the restroom.

What is wrong with you? Get your act together!

I try to calm myself down by taking deep breaths. I couldn't remember the last time I had a panic attack, and somehow, he had managed to get one out of me in just a few minutes of our first meeting. I don't know who he thinks he is, but I hope I never get to see him again.