My Don Mistook Survival for Greed Chapter 03

My Don Mistook Survival for Greed Chapter 03

I worked at an underground jazz bar.

I was up to my neck in work when the bar door pushed open.

The copper bell on the door jingled sharply.

I looked up and saw a group of people filing in, with a sweet couple at the center.

It was Dante and his crew.

I didn’t have time to duck away.

Someone spotted me.

“Well, isn’t that Renee? Don Dante dumped you, and now you can’t afford that fancy lifestyle you liked, so you had to come work a job, huh?”

Jason cackled, each word coming out more cutting than the last.

“Or are you just hoping to hook another Capo at this fancy Family bar? Can’t say I blame you—that flashy face of yours really has what it takes.”

I wanted to argue back.

But I’d already lost one job because of Jason’s complaint after my breakup with Dante—the coffee shop under the Caruso Family fired me on the spot.

I didn’t have the guts, or the standing, to fight Jason again.

I could only turn a pleading gaze toward Dante.

I knew he was disgusted by me now.

But we’d been together six months.

In the beginning—he seemed to really love me.

Even if he didn’t love me anymore, there was no need to make things so hard for me.

But Dante’s gaze only brushed over me indifferently.

Like I was nothing.

Or maybe he was just in a hurry to cut ties and prove his loyalty to his new girl.

He turned to Celina.

“Amora mia, let’s go. This place reeks of bad memories.”

But Celina wasn’t having it.

She pouted.

“But I want their limoncello tiramisu. What’s the matter? Don’t you want to see your old flame? Or can’t you bear to let her serve me?”

Laughter erupted.

“Don Dante! New love or old flame—which do you pick?”

“Is that even a question? Who’d pick a trash ex? A gold digger?”

“I bet Renee’s heartbroken—she lost such a big sugar daddy…”

I couldn’t tell which was worse. The jeers, or the cruel Chicago winter wind.

But I’d already learned to keep a smile on my face through the mockery.

I ignored all the hostile stares and grinned as I took their order.

“Will that limoncello tiramisu be for here, or to go?”

The snickering faded a little.

I kept going.

“Would you like anything else? We just added a few new drinks on the menu—our espresso martini and matcha cocktail are both really good.”

I kept talking over them, presented the menu steadily and professionally, until my voice drowned out all the laughter.

My coworker finally snapped out of it and joined me in introducing the new items.

Dante had never seen me like this.

Neither had I seen him like this.

He watched me thoughtfully, a flicker of confusion crossing his eyes.

But then he seemed to talk himself out of it.

He was about to speak when Celina cut in.

“Dante, your ex is pretty nice—great service attitude.

“I’ll have one limoncello tiramisu and an iced americano, for here.”

She finished, then turned to talk to the others.

“The desserts here are amazing. My treat.”

Someone spoke up.

“Don Dante is right here, how can we let you pay for it, Donna?”

Celina laughed and shot back.

“I don’t get used to relying on a man’s money—I’m a modern independent woman. Not like someone’s ex.”

Her words weren’t kind.

But how many worse things had I heard working in service?

It was just that I’d been spoiled by Dante before, so old feelings still stung a little.

Back then, when I met rude customers, I’d always get so upset.

Once I couldn’t hold it in, and ranted to Dante on our date.

He got all fired up on my behalf and comforted me.

“Quit that job. I can afford to take care of you. The Donna of the Caruso Family doesn’t have to put up with this garbage.”

But I still insisted on working.

He had no choice but to compromise.

“You’re such a stubborn girl, I can’t talk you out of anything.”

But there was no working without getting hurt sometimes.

When I got upset another time, Dante pulled me into his arms.

“Don’t be mad. Whenever you’re hurt, just come here to me. I’ll buy you all the cake you want.”

Maybe the tiramisu was too sweet that day. Made me hallucinate that love could last forever.

I daydreamed about the little domestic life we could have, even the silly little fights we might have.

Couldn’t help asking.

“What if you’re the one who hurts me?”

He put on a fake angry face.

“How could I ever hurt you?”

Maybe promises only lasted as long as those few seconds of sincerity.

Once you’d heard them—you should always turn the page.