His Kidnapped Irish Mafia Virgin (O’Connor Mafia #2)

CHAPTER ONE

Nora

The bell above the café door chimed behind me as I rushed onto the sidewalk. The sound quickly got lost in the evening traffic. I held my canvas bag tighter and started walking fast, then almost running.

My sneakers tapped against the pavement as I wove between people leaving offices, tourists studying maps, and couples strolling along without a care.

I wasn’t that late—seven minutes at most. Eight minutes, if every traffic light decided to work against me.

This was my first night at the bar, and being late to my very first shift would be a disaster.

A cool breeze blew some of my hair across my face.

I pushed it behind my ear without slowing down.

I looked at the time on my phone…eight minutes.

“Oh no.” I walked faster, my back already hurting from a day of carrying trays of coffee, sandwiches, and pastries across the café floor.

The afternoon had been busy from the moment people came for lunch.

A delivery truck showed up late. Two staff members didn’t come to work.

A family of twelve decided they all wanted different drinks at exactly the same time.

By the time my manager told me it was time to go, the sun was almost setting.

“I know you’re in a hurry,” he’d said while handing me my paycheck. “Thanks for staying late.”

I smiled because I had to stay. I needed both jobs. This simple truth made me feel heavy as I walked down another block. Rent didn’t care if I was tired. Electricity bills didn’t wait for days. Groceries didn’t get cheaper because I was working hard. So I kept moving.

Boston was buzzing around me as evening came. Car horns blasted and the smell of pizza came from a restaurant, mixing with coffee and perfume and the scent of rain left by an earlier shower.

Store windows glowed against the darkening sky and people laughed as they went into restaurants and theaters. I barely noticed any of them as I kept looking at the route on my phone. I went past the pharmacy and straight through the crossing.

“Past the florist, one more block,” I repeated quietly, like saying it would make my feet move faster. When I finally saw the bar’s sign I felt relief so strong that I almost laughed. I checked the time again. I was ten minutes late.

The building gleamed beneath rows of warm lights. From outside I could tell it belonged to a different world from the little café where I’d spent my day pouring coffee. I slowed down a bit to smooth my shirt and catch my breath.

“You can do this,” I whispered, putting a hand on my chest. The words sounded way more confident than I felt. Taking a breath, I reached for the shiny brass handle.

The moment I stepped inside, I realized the bar was nothing like the café.

Amber lights reflected off the floor and rows of bottles were lined up on the wall behind the bar.

Men in suits sat with women in expensive dresses.

No one seemed to be in a hurry. Everyone moved with poise.

The café never had this kind of atmosphere.

For a second I thought I should’ve worn something nicer.

I held my bag tightly and reminded myself that I wasn’t here to enjoy myself. I was here to work. A woman walked past me with a tray, then turned around to give me a smile. She asked me if I was looking for someone.

I nodded. “Yes, I’m Nora. It’s my first day working here.”

“Oh, you’re the new hire,” she said. “The manager’s office is down there.

It’s the door on the left.” She pointed down the bar.

I made my way through the room, and the closer I got to the office, the more nervous I became.

I was worried about being late. Now that I was inside I couldn’t stop thinking about what the manager would think of me.

I stopped outside the office door and knocked twice.

“Come in,” a voice said. The manager looked up from his papers as I pushed the door open. He checked his watch, then looked back at me.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I said.

He smiled. “Don’t worry about being late,” he said. “Friday nights are always busy, so we’re already behind. I’m just glad you made it. You can make up for your lateness by doing a good job tonight.”

I laughed nervously. Although I felt better because he was understanding, the pressure weighed down on me. “I’ll try.”

“I’m sure you will.” He picked up a uniform and handed it to me, then smiled again and opened the door for me. “The staff room is down the hall on your right. Get changed and one of the servers will show you around.”

The staff room was smaller than I thought it would be. There were metal lockers on one wall and a long wooden bench in the middle of the room. A big mirror hung above a counter covered with hair ties, pens, a packet of mints, and a bottle of perfume.

I unfolded the uniform. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. The black blouse fit me okay. The trousers were nice and not too tight. The apron tied nicely around my waist. After I smoothed out the wrinkles, I thought I looked pretty good.

Then I saw the shoes. They were heels. I stared at them as if they would explode the minute I put them on.

I didn’t like heels ever since I fell at Aunty Maurice’s funeral, but there was no choice but to wear them.

I sat down on the bench and put them on.

As soon as I stood up, I knew it was going to take some time to get used to them.

My weight leaned forward in a way that made every step feel weird. I took one step, then another.

I walked slowly across the room, trying not to look as awkward as I felt. By the time I got to the lockers, I was walking a little better, but I still didn’t trust myself to move fast.

God, I hope I don’t fall. One of the servers smiled at me as she walked into the room.

“You’ll get used to the shoes. Just give it an hour or two,” she said.

I smiled back at her. I wasn’t as sure as she was. Before I left the staff room, I looked around one time.

Every locker had a number on it. There were aprons folded up on a shelf next to new order pads in one basket and used ones in another. Someone had put pens in a coffee mug on the counter. The staff room was organized enough that I felt even more out of place.

When I went out into the hallway, I noticed more of the same. Empty trays were stacked up beside the kitchen doors and clean trays were kept near the bar. The staff always went into the kitchen through one door and came out through another one. Nobody had to tell anyone where to go. They just knew.

They moved around each other like a choreographed dance. If I could learn the steps, maybe I wouldn’t feel so out of place. I fixed my apron one more time, took a deep breath, and followed the sound of people talking back to the bar.

I hoped that my feet would cooperate with the heels enough for me to get through my first night of work at the bar.

The moment I stepped back onto the floor, the bar felt even busier than it had minutes ago.

Every member of staff knew where they needed to be.

I stood there wondering how anyone could possibly remember where they were supposed to go.

A man carrying three dinner plates slowed down when he saw me standing near the service station. He adjusted the plates in his hands.

“You must be Nora,” he said.

News travels fast in this place.

“I’m Ethan,” he said. “Come on. I’ll show you around before this place gets even busier.

The kitchen is through those doors,” he said, pointing ahead.

“Food comes out on the left window and goes back through the right. The bartenders handle all the drinks. If you need something from behind the counter, ask. Don’t reach for it. ”

I nodded. He pointed toward a fridge tucked beside the hallway and glanced back at me. “That’s where we keep staff drinks,” he said. “You can help yourself during your break. Just don’t take a customer’s drink by mistake. It happens more often than you think.”

I let out a laugh before I could stop it. “I’ll remember that,” I said.

“I’m sure you will,” Ethan replied.

As I kept walking with Ethan, I found myself paying attention to little things. Empty glasses quickly went back toward the bar and fresh drinks followed them immediately. Servers carried two pens tucked neatly into their apron pockets.

“You okay?” Ethan asked. My cheeks turned red as I looked back at him. “You’ve been watching everybody.”

I was feeling okay, but still a little overwhelmed. Before I could say anything, another server came over.

“Ethan, stop talking. Let the girl breathe.” She had a stack of menus under her arm.

“I was helping,” Ethan said.

She rolled her eyes, then turned to me. “I’m Chloe. It’s nice to meet you.” She handed me an order pad and two pens. “Keep these with you. You’ll use them all night. Don’t worry much; everyone survives their first Friday.” A group of customers came in, and another big group followed them.

The bar got louder. People were all talking at once. Chairs scraped against the floor. The calm atmosphere was completely gone.

“Nora!” Chloe called. “Table six needs water. Clear table nine when they leave. Then check if table twelve wants another round.” I repeated the table numbers in my head, picked up a tray, and stepped onto the floor.

The first hour was a blur. I filled water glasses, cleared plates, and took drink orders.

I said sorry whenever I thought I was moving slowly.

I almost bumped into another server a few times, but everyone was nice about it.

After a while, I started to get the hang of it. I didn’t have to think about where the kitchen was or which side of the bar to go to. My feet still hurt in the heels, but I was starting to feel better. I thought I might actually make it through my first night.

Then one of the bartenders called my name. He put a pitcher of beer on the counter and pointed to a table across the room. “Can you take this to table fourteen?” he asked.