Chapter TWELVE

MARAT

“What the hell is going on here?!”

A stranger, who I assumed was her boss, old Royce Rage himself, bellowed from behind me.

I tensed.

Anger at both the interruption and his tone filling me to the point I was hissing like a steam engine.

“Listen, pal, the waitresses aren’t permitted to take breaks with guests on the floor,” he said, clapping a sweaty hand down on my shoulder.

This motherfucker.

“Sorry, Mr. Royce, my customer needed some, um, help, and I was just⁠—”

Destiny tried to explain, offering a weak excuse.

“Shut it, Dollface.”

That was it. I was done. He could have fucking listened. Could have been respectful. But he wasn’t. And that sealed his fucking fate for him.

“Pal, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. We don’t allow our staff to fraternize with customers. Beat it, you don’t want me to call security. As for you, Dollface, this was your last warning. In my office, now.”

Oh, this motherfucker.

I closed my eyes, allowing my fury to build.