I stare at Sirius through the kitchen window, continuously rubbing my sweaty hands together. It turned out, Sirius’s idea of "something I should have done a long time ago" was dining in the main area of the restaurant.
When he directed me to be his waitress my face dropped, and my palms began to sweat, he laughed. Sirius’s eyes twinkled as he pushed a piece of hair behind my ear and smiled teasingly before whispering, “Even I, the arrogant, self-centered Mafia King, still need to eat.”
Before I could stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth, I said, “I knew Kings ate, just not devils.”
He stilled a disappointed tension in his jaw, before walking himself to the best spot in the restaurant, where the one-way window provides a full view of the bustling street outside. He has been star
