4
1662 Words
Nearly a month had passed since Lukas sent his grandmother the letter. There was still no word from her, but he knew she wasn't familiar with modern technology. He had put himself back in the dating pool, hoping to tell his grandmother he no longer needed her assistance.
Staring at his phone, he sighed heavily. It was already seven-thirty, and his date was overdue.
He signaled for another coffee, watching as the others behind the counter scoffed and tormented the girl serving him. She walked over a few moments later, the hot coffee pot shaking in her hands.
"Set it down a moment and give me your hands. I saw what they did, and I will be making a formal complaint to the owner," he said darkly.
"I'm the owner's granddaughter,” she whimpered. “Please, don't do anything. It's all fine, I promise."
"Tell me a joke or something to make me laugh, will you? Oh, and here." He pulled a cloth out of his pocket and handed it to her. "That handle looks ready to fall apart, so use this to hold the pot from the bottom, too."
The girl blinked comically at him, and he chuckled. She frowned, "The only jokes I know are the people I work with."
Nodding as he laughed huskily, Lukas said, "I can assure you that every workplace has its share of clowns in pinstriped suits. My father is one of them."
Giggling, she walked back to the counter. Again, he picked up his device only to have it start buzzing in his hand. As he brought the coffee cup to his lips, he frowned. He knew—he just somehow knew—that she'd changed her mind. She wasn't the first girl to stand him up, but she was going to be the last.
His frown deepening, he answered the call, "Hey, April, are you on your way?"
"When were you going to tell me that you were a member of the damn mafia? Are you insane, Lukas? If I go out with you, I might as well kiss my own ass goodbye!"
Lowering his eyes to the table, he nodded. He knew this would happen.
"Look, why don't you just come to the coffee shop so we can talk it out?" he murmured into the phone.
She sobbed, "No, Lukas. Were you going to tell me about you being mafia? Why did I have to find out from your ex? Why couldn't you just tell me yourself?"
"I was going to when we met up today, but that's out the window. You chose to listen to others instead of getting the story from me, so this is goodbye. Lose my number and never utter my name again." Hanging up the call, he sighed. He'd reached a stalemate with everything, and it wasn't looking good.
It was time to turn some of her closest friends against Sarah. Finishing off his coffee, he walked up to the counter and asked for the owner.
"Was everything alright, Sir?" the owner asked nervously. He'd been under the care of the mafia for the last forty years, and not once had his staff given their people any issues. "My granddaughter is still in the training phase, so I apologize for anything she’s done wrong."
"No, it's nothing like that, Cain," Lukas replied.
Breathing a sigh of relief, the other man put a hand over his heart. "Thank goodness."
"I was actually here to meet someone, but that fell through. Your granddaughter was a doll, so I wanted to give her a little something," Lukas explained.
Cain nodded happily. "Oh, of course, Sir. If she's deserving of a reward, then she should have it."
Lukas's eyes narrowed on the group of girls at the other end of the counter as he pulled a fifty out of his wallet. His grey eyes locked onto the busty, green-eyed girl sneering at him. "I want that one fired," he smirked, watching as she paled to the point he thought she'd pass out.
Stepping up to the counter when her grandfather called her over, the young girl said, "My name is Ginger, Sir. I work here after school and on the weekends."
"You're a good granddaughter to put that kind of time into a family business," Lukas replied. He handed her a folded bill, keeping the amount out of sight. "This is for showing me kindness."
She beamed at him, her eyes sparkling. "Thank you, Sir!"
Lukas's smile faded completely once the girl vanished into the back. "Mr. Cain, you can consider yourself warned. I'm done having my name slandered because one person couldn't get what she wanted."
Knowing the young man was close with the Don of the Icelandic mob who watched over his little shop, the owner nodded vigorously. "All of you remember what he just said. Heather, go clean out your locker. You and your friends are banned from this place for life!"
The tiny bell above the door jingled merrily, and Lukas turned his head to see his father walking into the cafe. "Why does it feel like the Arctic in here? Lukas, what's going on?"
Lukas shrugged. "Sarah’s crossed the line again."
Trace turned his eyes to the shadowy corner of the room, narrowing his gaze on the girl trying to make herself invisible. "If you can't have him, no one can, right, Sarah?"
"He should have just given me what I wanted," she snarked, running her manicured fingers through her bleached-blond hair. "That's all he had to do, but no, he had to humiliate me and break up with me in front of the entire school."
Turning back to the owner, Trace shook his head. "Mr. Cain, I'll be notifying Don Callum about this."
Lukas shook his head. "Not Ginger, Dad. She's his granddaughter, and I already promised her immunity."
"Agreed," Trace stated. They listened as Mr. Cain flew into a rage at the other people who worked in the cafe while they walked out of the building. He turned to his son as they reached his bike. "Luke, your Oma sent you a letter. She rarely writes, so I got curious."
Keeping his features calm, Lukas straddled his Honda and laughed. "I didn't do anything, Dad."
"I read the letter."
Damn.
He dropped his head to his chest. Bringing himself to glare at his father, he said, "Look, I know you're against the whole arranged marriage idea, but it's the only option I have left, Dad. I asked Oma Marie to find a suitable girl for me to marry. In the meantime, I kept trying my luck."
"And how many girls have you attempted to date so far?" Trace asked, amused.
"Twenty, and not one of them had any morals or self-appreciation. All they want is to get me in bed and drain my wallet dry. I'm sick of not being enough for the women around here, so I might as well go traditional."
"You know that arranged marriage is not traditional in Germany, right?" Trace asked with a smirk.
Lukas grinned. "Yeah, and? All I want is a good woman, which is kind of hard to find around here. Hoe’s be a dime a dozen, but ladies are like rare diamonds. I don't want to wait forever for someone to crawl out of the woodwork and date me, get to know me on a personal level, and then marry me. Besides, what if the girl Oma found for me is the one I'm meant to be with?"
Unable to argue his son's logic, Trace laughed. "Well, I can't exactly fault you there."
Lukas muttered, "I'm going home to pack and explain everything to the team. I should be able to leave by the end of the week, which gives me plenty of time to deal with Markus's baby-ish behavior."
Trace shook his head. "Have I taught you enough to let you go out there alone like this? I mean, you're my youngest, so it's only right that I worry about you, isn't it?"
"Yes, Dad," Lukas rolled his eyes.
He knew his brother would be the one to find fault with his decision, but it was his life, not Markus's. He knew Markus was looking out for him in his own way, but this was something he needed to do alone.
Lukas fired up his FireBlade. The rumble of the engine between his thighs focused his thoughts as he donned his helmet and rode off.
******
The bell jingled as Trace made his way back inside. Glaring at the owner, he walked over to the man after he flicked the lock on the door when everyone else cleared out. "Our cut of the profits is due.”
Nodding, the man opened the register and took the tray out. Motioning for Trace to follow him, he led him into his office and offered him a seat.
Cutting his gaze to the girl, Trace questioned why she was present.
"She's my granddaughter, Sir," Mr. Cain replied.
"It was just her luck that she served my son today," Trace replied. "As he likely told you already, she's safe. I will be sending some young upstarts here to help keep the shop going. Mistakes like this will not be forgiven a second time, Mr. Cain. My son was openly mocked by your staff, and that's unforgivable."
Ginger gasped. "Please, Sir, I didn't treat him badly at all!"
Trace nodded. "That's why he said you were safe. I'll explain the situation to Don Callum and see that you're let off this month."
Getting to his feet, Trace left them alone to bask in the mercy he'd shown them.
Mr. Cain sobbed as he turned to his granddaughter. "Thanks to you, we will not be shut down. Go tidy the dining room for me, Ginny. I'll call your parents to let them know we'll be home late."
Watching the girl leave, he got to work issuing the staff's pink slips.
- Writer
