Love Beyond Boundaries

Chapter 4 Heart's First Stir

I opened the semi-transparent, dark coffee-colored door and stepped into the spacious restaurant. Soft music played quietly, and the warm glow from wall lamps lit up the walls and the small rectangular tables covered with gentle peach tablecloths. The air smelled subtly fresh and expensive, not like the pastries and coffee I was used to in the cafés I sometimes visited.

I nodded to Nastya, another waitress, and went to the staff area to change into my uniform, a white shirt, black skirt, and light beige apron with the restaurant's logo, then started preparing the dining area for the guests by straightening tablecloths and napkins and aligning the chairs, determined to show that I had come here to work, not to find a rich boyfriend, as Nastya had told me most girls applied for the job for that reason, but they were quickly found out and fired.

"Liza, do you remember that you have a test today?" the administrator approached me. She was tall and stately, her hair pulled into a sleek bun.

I barely managed to keep a calm expression. I had completely forgotten about the test! Lenka had completely distracted me with her party, which she had been preparing for a whole month.

"Yes, of course," I said, swallowing hard.

It wasn't a big deal. I had already learned the rules of behavior and work. I could handle it.

"You will be serving the owner of the restaurant," Veronica Sergeyevna continued. "He carefully selects staff for all his establishments. Because of this, we hardly ever have turnover."

That made me tense. I had thought I would demonstrate my skills to the administrator or director, not the owner. I had never even seen him before.

"I understand," I finally replied, fidgeting with the edge of my apron.

"And remember, Liza," the administrator said, looking at me strictly, "once you pass the test, your internship ends. After that, you officially work at the restaurant. If you are hired, you must remember the most important rule: once you leave this place, forget everything that happens here."

"What do you mean?" I frowned. Something about that sounded suspicious.

"The guests here are rich, serious people," Veronica answered patiently. "And as you know, rich people have their quirks. Just follow the rules and everything will be fine."

I nodded. Yes, most rich people were arrogant and conceited. But I could handle it. Worse things had happened in my life.

I needed this money. The salary was promised to be substantial, enough to rent a one-bedroom apartment and move away from my mother. This was part of my plan, part of the path to a new life.

"Stay alert," the woman warned. "The owner of the restaurant could be any of the guests. He can come at any time. So serve everyone like first-class clients."

"Okay," I answered.

God, I had never encountered anything like this before; so many rules made it feel like a serious place. The selection had been strict and thorough, and I had passed it, along with the interview, filled out forms, and taken tests. And now there was yet another test, and I wouldn't be surprised if they asked me to take a lie detector.

"Hang in there, Liza," Nastya encouraged as she passed by. "The owner of this place is insanely handsome. If you see him, know that it's 99.9 percent him."

I smiled at her and continued my work. My body was gripped by nervous excitement. 'What if I made a mistake? Embarrassed myself or…'

I had to pull myself together! It wasn't hard. I just needed to speak the memorized lines, smile politely, and avoid sudden movements. After all, failing the test wouldn't be the end of the world. Yes, it would be disappointing, but at least I had tried.

All day, I worked to my maximum, serving guests, smiling politely, and trying to be invisible, moving with quiet steps and speaking in a soft voice as one of the many rules demanded.

I was so absorbed in my work that I forgot about the test. Honestly, I didn't understand why Veronica warned me about the guests. I hadn't seen a single arrogant person. On the contrary, everyone was calm and polite. Though, last week I had worked at the restaurant only until noon, so perhaps the most interesting things happened in the evening.

"Your table by the window is also yours," Nastya whispered as she passed by.

I nodded and turned. Then I froze like a statue: at the table, Lenka's father sat relaxed, staring straight at me.

I saw no emotion in his eyes. To him, I seemed invisible. That foolish feeling of uncontrollable nervousness washed over me once again, and my hands trembled. Unlike me, Vladimir Andreyevich always looked confident, as if the whole world was at his feet.

Damn, did I really have to serve him? I had hoped never to see him again, and today, of all days, he came to the restaurant I wanted to work at! Couldn't he have chosen any other place? There were plenty of fancy restaurants downtown.

"Liza," the administrator approached me, "don't just stand there. A guest should never be kept waiting. That's a serious mistake."

"I'm coming," I replied dully and headed toward Vladimir's table.

My legs felt stiff. It was as if I might collapse at any second under his gaze, sharp enough to cut without a knife.

"Good evening. Are you ready to place your order?" I asked politely, forcing myself to stay composed.

The man swept a slow, assessing look over me from head to toe. I stood there like a guilty schoolgirl. And for some reason, I felt my face heat up.

"Good evening," he finally said, looking straight into my eyes. "And what are you doing here?"

"I work here," I answered. "So, are you ready to order?"

"Recommend something special," Vladimir said, scanning me lazily while tapping his fingers against the table.

'Something special. Damn it. What could that be?'

I hurriedly flipped through the menu in my mind, unable to settle on anything.

"How about our house specialty?" I said at last. "Pasta served in a cheese wheel with a creamy truffle sauce."

"Not interested," Vladimir shrugged.

"Perhaps you have something specific in mind?" I asked patiently. "We have a wide selection. Salads, soups, appetizers…"

"Sea bream fillet," he cut me off, snapping the leather menu shut. "Mushroom cream soup. And water."

I quickly entered the order into my tablet, put on a routine smile, and slipped away silently, even though all I wanted was to run.

Something told me Lenka's father was going to ruin everything for me. He was clearly nitpicking on purpose. While his order was being prepared, I stepped outside through the back door to get some air, just for a minute.

Lifting my eyes to the deep blue sky darkening overhead, I breathed in the evening air and tried to calm myself. Everything was fine. Everything would be fine.

All I had to do was bring Vladimir his order, then the bill later. That was it. He would eat and leave. And I would continue working peacefully.

With effort, I pulled myself together and returned to the dining hall. Vladimir's order was ready in ten minutes, and I walked back to his table, trying to look confident. I carefully set the dishes down, feeling his piercing gaze on every inch of my skin.

When he looked at me like that, when he was this close, I felt like a complete i***t. Honestly. I didn't understand how it worked. My hands trembled again, my heart raced wildly. And when last night came to mind, a storm of emotions surged through me, from anger to nervous excitement.

"You're nervous, Liza," Vladimir scoffed. Nothing escaped him.

"No," I lied.

"Then why are you breathing so fast?" That question threw me off balance.

"Your cologne is too strong," I blurted out. "I can't get enough air."

The moment the words left my mouth, I bit my tongue. I shot him a nervous glance and blushed when I saw the amusement in his eyes. This was some kind of curse. He was going to drive me insane.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out, gripping the tray so tightly my fingers turned white. This was a disaster. I had to fix it somehow. "Would you like anything else?"

"You," he said casually, and my mouth fell open in shock.

Had I imagined that? Maybe stress was already getting to me. Vladimir looked the same as always, cold and indifferent.

"What?" I asked.

"I want you," Vladimir leaned back in his chair, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. "Will you be my dessert, baby?"