A Surrogate To The Mafia King

Raven's Pov The scent of cinnamon and freshly baked gingerbread cookies filled the air as I pulled the last tray from the oven, placing it beside the others in the display case. Christmas lights twinkled around the café, soft carols played in the background, and the warmth of the ovens mixed with the rich aroma of coffee. The morning rush had hit hard, and my bakery was buzzing with customers. The soft hum of conversations, the clinking of cups, and the smell of roasted coffee beans blended into a familiar routine. But none of that eased the knot of stress tightening in my stomach. But I couldn’t enjoy any of it. Not when the rent was due. Not when my father’s debts were piling up. Not when I had no idea how I was going to survive the next few months. I forced a smile as I wiped my hands on my red-and-green Christmas-themed apron, pushing the thoughts away. “One problem at a time, Raven.” “Double espresso, no sugar, extra hot,” Lisa called from behind the counter, carefully setting the cup on the tray. “That’s for table six,” she added, nodding toward the back of the café. I grabbed the tray and made my way through the crowded space, offering polite smiles to customers who were either holiday shoppers, families enjoying festive treats, taking pictures beside the Christmas tree or chatting over steaming mugs of hot chocolate. As I weaved through the crowd I barely glanced at table six until I was right next to it. Then my stomach clenched. The man sitting there wasn’t a regular. He wasn’t even the type to walk into a place like this. Dark suit. Expensive watch. A cold, powerful presence that made my hands tighten around the tray. Everything about him screamed danger. And just as I registered that, the accident happened. A customer rushed past, bumping into me hard enough that my fingers lost their grip. The steaming cup of espresso tilted and spilled all over him. Gasps filled the air and the entire café went silent. Lisa sucked in a sharp breath behind me. The man reading by the fireplace slowly lowered his newspaper. Even the Christmas music seemed to fade. My breath caught in my throat as the man pushed back his chair. He had not flinched from the heat of the hot coffee, nothing. No reaction. The tension in the room was thick, heavy and suffocating. Without being told, I knew I had messed up badly. He stood, his 6’9 height making me even smaller. His face remained unreadable. But his black eyes were cold, dark and unforgiving. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he looked down at his ruined suit. “I…I am so sorry,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. “It was an accident. Someone bumped into me, and I…” “You are shaking,” he cut me off, voice calm, but somehow worse than if he had yelled. “Why?” Because you look like you kill people for fun. I swallowed hard. “I…I didn’t mean to.” Someone whispered his name. Luca DeLuca. And the second I heard it, my body went ice cold. My lips parted in shock. A name I have heard on TV, read in tabloids. Luca DeLuca isn’t just rich, he is just as powerful and dangerous. A name everyone in the city knew. Parents tell his story to scare their kids. He is the kind of man no one dared to cross. And I had just poured hot coffee on him. He didn’t move for a long moment. Didn’t wipe the mess off. Didn’t look around. Just stared at me. I felt my heart pounding against my ribs, my hands gripping the tray so tightly my knuckles turned white. “I…I can pay for the suit,” I whispered, even though we both knew I couldn’t afford even a thread from whatever expensive brand he was wearing. The air shifted. Something dark flashed in his eyes. Then he smiled. It wasn’t kind or forgiving. It was the kind of smile that promised trouble. “Pay?” His voice was almost amused. “And how exactly would you do that?” I had no answer. Lisa grabbed my arm. “Raven,” she whispered urgently. “Let me…” “Leave,” Luca ordered without looking at her. Lisa flinched, her grip loosening as she stepped away. I could barely breathe. His attention was locked onto me. “What’s your name?” I hesitated, but lying wouldn’t help. “Raven.” He rolled the name on his tongue, like he was testing how it sounded. Then, slipping his jacket off, he said the words that sent ice through my veins. “You will be hearing from me soon.” Then he walked out. The café stayed dead silent long after he was gone. Lisa grabbed my wrist again, harder this time. “What the hell did you just do?” she hissed. I couldn’t answer. Because I knew. I had just become a problem for Luca DeLuca. And men like him? Never let things go.