Emperor of Mayhem

02

// T H E M U R D E R \\

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SOME WEEKS LATER

"Azania?!"

"Huh? I mean, ye-yes?" I fumbled with words, my gaze deflecting from Filip Petrov to the tray containing two servings of French fries that he slid across to me.

"What the fuck are you thinking about?"

Filip's perfectly arched brow was raised, a hint of smirk lingering at the corner of his nude lips.

"Uh-uh, I was just thinking about you-yoga." I stuttered.

"Yoga?" His brows knitted.

"I was just thinking of signing up for a yoga class." I scratched my head, chuckling nervously.

"Okay," he nodded skeptically, "That's for table ten, by the way." Then he pointed at the tray sitting on the counter before me.

In the process of lifting the tray into my hands, I felt a light buzz from the phone I had in my grip.

Groaning, I balanced the tray in my left hand, registering my ID to access the message.

'Working late?'

It was from him-M. I knew it was only a matter of time.

He developed the habit of following me in the shadows since I got a shift here at Czar's Bar and Grill and ended up always closing around 8 PM because I had the evening shift.

He did it every single day. And never got tired.

'Yeah, it's a full house tonight'

I typed back quickly.

'You must be tired'

His next message blinked into the screen almost immediately.

'Don't worry, I can manage'

I replied.

"Azania!" I jumped when the voice of Czar, my boss, startled me to an almost heart attack.

Rolling my eyes, I reluctantly tucked the phone away. I turned around quickly to walk a safe distance where Filip wouldn't hear me being scolded.

It would be embarrassing.

"What are you doing dilly dallying instead of meeting the customer's needs?" Czar and I crossed paths eventually, but far away from Filip.

I could barely be alarmed by the scowl of his mouth. Rather, I was struggling to keep a straight face despite how comical he looked, tiny and barely reaching my waist.

Being five feet two inches tall, I still had to look down at his probably two feet self to make a conversation work. The difference in our heights was like that of David and Goliath.

"You disrespectful girl, are you even listening to what I'm saying?"

"Azania?!" His ear piercing shriek challenged my nonchalance, "Are you here with me at all?"

"Sorry, Czar," I sighed, "The problem is neither you nor me. It's the difference in height that makes the communication signal between us very poor."

I said with a shrug, not waiting to see if that red face was going to blow or the vein throbbing in the middle of his forehead would pop as I made a beeline for my destination.

"Sorry for the delay," my sudden presence interrupted the gentlemen at table ten, "I met a rat on the way."

"No problem." They chuckled. I served them and left.