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"I. Mean. Clock. Out." Each of his words is punctuated like its own sentence, and my chest tightens at the sharp look in his eyes.
Oh shit. I might have just crossed the line.
"Have Sara watch your tables and meet me in the office," he grits out.
Fuck. Oh fuck. I really messed up.
I think about arguing, hoping a little comic relief will help diffuse the situation, but the intense edge in his eyes warns me against it. I've never seen Alessandro angry, especially at me, but if I had to guess, this is it.
Brows lowered, jaw set, with a dangerously serious look on his face.
I can only nod in response. “Yes, sir.”
Crossing over to clock out and to let Sara know to watch my tables, I chance a glance back across the dining area in time to see Alessandro storming to the office, the snap of the door closing behind him making me jump, even from across the spacious room. Sara shoots me a worried look as I step up beside her.
“What did you do?” she whispers, and all I can do is shrug.
“I’m… not sure exactly.” Even though I know what I said, I lie, my stomach souring, hitting me with a wave of nausea. “Can you watch tables two and six for me until I get back? If I’m not fired.”
“Yeah, no problem.” She sounds as terrified as I feel. “Don’t worry, though. Maybe it’s nothing.”
I force a single chuckle, my shoulders sagging.
“Maybe,” I offer, even though I’m pretty sure it’ssomething.
Nerves mounting, I make my way to the office with my head hung low, standing before the closed door for a long second, collecting my thoughts and preparing to give the sappiest apology of my life.
I was just joking around like normal. We’d been digging at each other all night, but I guess the last one dug a little too deep.
I better hurry and get this over with.
The dining room is full of patrons, and I don’t want to lose any more tables. Hopefully, it’ll be nothing more than a few stern words, maybe a write up. Hopefully he isn’t planning to fire me, not when I just spent all my money on a heat blocker and won’t make it to the weekend without more tips.
I knock lightly on the door, each tap resounding through me with increasing dread.
"Come in,” his voice calls from within.
An icy chill tumbles through me, and I take a deep breath for confidence that doesn't come. When I step inside, Alessandro is sitting on the edge of his desk, muscular arms crossed firmly over his chest, and he’s looking–no, glaring–at me as I cross the threshold.
“Aless-“
“Shut the door,” he demands, cutting me off. My back straightens at the bite in his voice, his command prickling at my senses, even though it doesn’t sway me the way a bark would. I quickly close the door behind me.
“Am I in trou–” I begin again, but he interrupts.
“Sit.”
I stand there for a second, my mouth hanging open mid-sentence, before sinking into the closest chair silently.
He's been so cool and collected since we met, keeping his feral alpha power at bay. I attributed it to him being older; maybe he was tired of always keeping up the brutish act. Maybe he was really good at keeping it under control, but now I see it: fiery, demanding, brutal, intimidating.
And damn it if I don’t want him to fuck me into submission.
The way he’s standing over me, even though he’s just casually leaning against the edge of the desk, makes him even more intimidating. I feel small, tiny under his gaze, and for the first time in his presence, fear spikes my heart rate.
“I’m only going to ask this once,” he says slowly, punctuating every word, and I brace myself for the worst. “Are youtryingto get my knot inside you?”
I blanch, the blood draining from my face so fast, it leaves me a little lightheaded. If we weren’t in the near silence of the office with no distractions, I might have wondered if I misheard him.
