Alessia’s Pov
Marcello handed Sophia the clipboard with some forms. “Fill these out before tomorrow. And be here at 6 p.m. sharp. No excuses.”
As we left the bar, Sophia clutched the clipboard tightly, her eyes shining with excitement. “I can’t believe he gave me a chance. Thank you, Alessia. I mean it.”
I smiled, feeling a small sense of accomplishment. “Don’t thank me yet. Marcello’s bar can be intense. Just do your best, and you’ll be fine.”
The next day, we arrived on time for our shifts. The bar was alive with the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses, but there was an undercurrent of chaos that came with every shift. Marcello’s bar was a melting pot of personalities: rowdy regulars, tourists looking for a thrill, and those with darker intentions hiding behind charming
