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The Virgin & The Bad-Boy Billionaire

By´╝ÜSadie Black.

Chapter 1: The Note



Ding, ding, ding, Ding, DING! The orgy of hand slapping on the diner’s bell is like someone rubbing shards of glass and hot sauce into my brain.



“Order’s up Brianna, get in gear!”



She isn’t going to take this well. Sure enough, Brianna nonchalantly strolls over to the window where her plates of double deep fried dollars and burgers wait for her and picks up the bell, hitting Harvey square in the chest with it.



“I swear to god, Harvey, if you don’t lay off that thing, it’s gonna be so far up your ass it’ll ding when you walk,” she hisses before picking up her plates for table 6 and heading over with a huge smile.



“Oooohhh.” The peanut gallery of prep cooks and dishwashers egg him on.



“Oh please, that girl is dying for a piece.”



“Sure Harv, man, whatever you say.”



“Excuse me, miss? I asked for a Coke, and I think you gave me diet.” The man sweating all over his plate complains to me while his hanging stomach tries to wrestle the table further away from the booth.



“Sure thing, sir. I’ll change it for you right now.” I try so hard to smile, but I’m so tired and damned annoyed right now I can’t bother. After being in school all day I came straight to the diner to work another double shift since our manager can’t stop hiring girls that flake out every Friday night after they collect their first paycheck. I throw his glass upon the tray of matching empties I just collected from a table where they left me a $1.14 tip for a $24 meal and make my way back into the kitchen. The sizzle of the hot grill and the crackle of the deep fryers make it all but impossible to hear anything back here.



CRASH!



Except that. I’m pretty sure, everyone heard that.



The kitchen staff, of course, start clapping and cheering as shards of glass and water race across the worn floor.



“Fuck!”



“Kendra, language, please. The customers!” Mr. Taylor cocks his shiny bald head at me.



I try to kill the sarcastic cooks with my death stare, “I’m sorry sir, it was an accident.” I swear, on days like this I can just see my future dental bills skyrocketing from how hard I’ve got my teeth jammed together.



“I know you must be awfully tired, you pulling this double saved my keister today. Tell ya what, don’t even worry about this.” He waved his hand in circles over the shimmering glass splinters. “The busboy will take care of it, won’t ya William? Table 14 needs a pair of hands, okay?”



“Sure thing, Mr. Taylor.” I smirk at William and head into the dining area. Serves him right for whooping and hollering about a bunch of broken glass.



Ugh, I still have my research paper to finish when I get home. Time can’t go fast enough to get to the end of this semester. Then I’ll finally finish my masters and get a real career. Waiting tables hasn’t been terrible, but it goes without saying that this isn’t my dream job. Six years of busting my ass working full-time and going to school will finally pay off, hopefully in the form of an office of my own and a fat paycheck. I just wish mama could see me graduate.



My heart squeezes tight every time I think of her. It’s been just about five years since she passed, but the gaping hole she left in my life never managed to get plugged up. I miss her every single day. Mama was the strongest woman I’ve ever known, I’m only twenty-six but I know I’ll never meet her match. Until the day she left us, she worked three jobs so she could make a better life for my three brothers and me. She wanted to give us everything, but as a single mother her jobs brought in just enough to keep us fed and clothed.



Every night before she headed out for her night shift she used to kiss me goodnight and say, “Kendra, baby, you are a gift in this world. Don’t you ever forget that and don’t let anyone else forget it either. You’re smart as a whip, honey, and I know you’ll get educated and do better than me. I’m so proud of you.”



Sure, I might make more money, but there’s no way I’ll be more driven or determined than her. I doubt there’s anyone in this world who can even come close.



Wiping my face leaves a slick sheen of oil on my hand. Everything in this place has a slight film of fryer grease coating it, after twelve hours of slinging fast food, my cheeks are no exception. It’s not that the restaurant is dirty, as far as diners go, I’ve definitely seen worse. It’s just the nature of the beast to leave your shift smelling like a fry. No matter how many times I wash my uniform, the faint scent never fully goes away.



I step up beside table 14 and stop short. Surely this guy has taken a wrong turn or something. I’ve never seen anyone come into eat at the diner in a swank, form-fitting suit and silk tie. He looks like he stepped off the cover of GQ, like his tan skin has been photo-shopped into flawless perfection. My gaze is drawn to his rose petal lips. They look so soft and are a shade of natural pink that I would be overjoyed to find in any lipstick tube.

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