The Waitress Is Actually A Mafia Queen

I spent 365 days scrubbing floors as a waitress to test if my fiancé was a King.

He thought I was just Blake, a poor girl with too many bills.

He didn't know I was the daughter of the Capo dei Capi, the true owner of the East Coast.

But it took only three seconds for him to fail the test.

His mistress, Jaden, marched into the restaurant wearing a dress too tight for a place where deals were made in whispers.

She treated me like a servant, throwing her keys at my chest.

When I refused to bow to her, she slapped a tray of boiling hot tea onto my hand.

The pain was blinding. My skin blistered instantly.

I waited for Connor to defend me. I waited for him to show honor.

Instead, he looked at his investors, panicked, and turned on me.

"Apologize, Blake!" he screamed, desperate to keep the peace. "Kneel if you have to! Just make her happy!"

He wanted a Queen to kneel to a mistress just to save his fragile ego.

He had no idea I was the one holding the deed to his entire territory.

I didn't kneel.

I dropped his phone into the deep fryer and watched it sizzle.

As my father's tactical team kicked down the doors, I untied my dirty apron.

"I'm not fired, Connor," I said, watching the blood drain from his face.

"I'm the landlord."

Chapter 1

I spent three hundred and sixty-five days scrubbing floors to see if the man I was promised to was a King, but it took only three seconds of him choosing a whore over his honor to prove he was just a peasant in a suit.

My phone vibrated against my hip, buzzing like an angry hornet trapped in the pocket of my cheap polyester apron.

I didn't even need to look at the screen to know who it was.

Connor.

The Acting Don of the Bishop family. My fiancé. The man who thought I was just Blake, the quiet waitress with no family and too many bills.

I pulled the device out.

Keep the peace, Blake. She's important to the business. Don't embarrass me.

I looked up from the screen as the heavy oak doors of The Velvet Lounge swung open.

The air in the room changed instantly. It usually smelled of old money, cigars, and the kind of silence that cost a thousand dollars an hour.

Now, it reeked of cheap vanilla perfume and entitlement.

Jaden Juarez walked in.

She wasn't wearing the required evening gown. Instead, she was wearing a red dress that was too short, too tight, and far too loud for a place where deals were made in whispers.

She wasn't just a mistress; she was a walking violation of the code.

I tightened the strings of my apron, the rough fabric digging into my waist.

Underneath this disguise, my blood was royal. My father was David Shaw, the Capo dei Capi. The man who owned the East Coast.

I was the Prize. I was the alliance that would keep the Bishop family from being eaten alive by the cartels.

But Connor didn't know that. He thought he was testing me. He thought he was seeing if a "commoner" could handle the pressure of his world.

He had no idea I was the one holding the grading sheet.

And he was failing.

Jaden stopped at the host stand. The bouncer, a soldier named Ricci, stepped forward.

"Miss, I cannot let you in without a reservation," Ricci said. His voice was polite, but his hand hovered near his jacket.

Jaden didn't flinch. She shoved him.

It was a weak shove. Her perfectly manicured nails barely made a dent in his suit.

But Ricci stumbled back.

He let her do it.

My stomach turned. A civilian had just put hands on a made man, and he did nothing.

The hierarchy in the Bishop family wasn't just cracking; it had turned to dust.

Jaden marched to the bar and snapped her fingers at the bartender.

"Vodka. Rocks. Now."

The bartender looked at Mark.

Mark was a Capo. A captain. He sat in the corner booth, nursing a scotch. He was supposed to be the enforcer of rules.

Mark looked at Jaden. Then he looked at his drink.

He nodded at the bartender.

I felt the bile rise in my throat.

Mark, a man who had sworn an oath of silence and honor, had just bowed to a woman who had no standing, no ring, and no respect.

Jaden spun around on the stool. Her eyes landed on me.

She smiled. It wasn't a happy smile; it was the smile of a predator who had found a wounded bird.

"You," she called out.

I didn't move.

"I said, you," she repeated, her voice shrill. "My car is out front. The valet is taking too long. Park it."

She threw a set of keys at me.

They sailed through the air, silver glinting under the chandelier.

I didn't catch them.

They hit my chest and clattered to the floor.

The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet room.

Every eye turned to us.

"Pick them up," Jaden said.

I looked at the keys. Then I looked at her.

"No," I said.

The word hung in the air.

Jaden's face went red. "Excuse me?"

"I am a server," I said, my voice dead calm. It was the voice my father used before he ordered a hit. "I serve food. I do not park cars for guests who assault the staff."

Mark stood up.

He walked over to us, his heavy footsteps echoing on the marble.

He didn't look at Jaden. He looked at me.

He grabbed my arm.

His fingers dug into my bicep.

Touching a woman of the family was a death sentence. Touching an employee was just a lawsuit.

But Mark didn't know who I was.

"She saved Connor's sister," Mark hissed in my ear. "She has a Blood Debt claim. You do what she says, or you're out."

A Blood Debt.

The oldest excuse in the book. A life for a life.

Connor was letting a personal favor destroy his business integrity. He was letting a civilian run his crew because he was too weak to draw a line.

I looked down at Mark's hand on my arm.

"Let go," I said.

"Pick up the keys, Blake," Mark said. "Don't make this ugly."

I pulled my arm free.

I picked up the keys.

Jaden smirked. She thought she had won. She thought she had broken me.

I pulled out my phone again.

I typed a message to Connor.

Mark just grabbed me. Your mistress is throwing keys at the staff. This is your last chance.

The reply came instantly.

Handle it. Don't cause a scene. I have the investors tonight.

He chose appearance over respect. He chose the easy way out.

He was a boy playing with loaded guns.

I looked at the keys in my hand. Then I looked at the front door.

I wasn't going to park her car.

I was going to drive this entire relationship off a cliff.