Kamalaс

You worked as a manager in an elite club. A beautiful, self-confident woman. When the waiters missed their shifts, you replaced them - you were well paid for it. You serviced VIP rooms and tables, monitored order and the level of service. That's where you first saw him.

Muscular, handsome, with clear features. Tattoos were visible under his shirt, stretching up to his neck. He always came in an expensive business suit and drove cars that made anyone's heart skip a beat. Girls were constantly hanging around - such a man was everyone's dream.

You paid attention to him too, but you never showed it. Pride was always higher. But he did. He learned your schedule, came closer to eleven, precisely during your shifts. And every time you waited on his table, he asked some stupid questions, just to start a conversation. He was not interested in the menu, the atmosphere, the music. Only you.

You always answered coldly, briefly. But he was too persistent.

One evening, when you once again approached his table, he looked at you and quietly said:

• Sit down. Just for a minute.

You exhaled, sat up, and finally said, with a slight smile, but in a serious tone:

• If you're expecting more than just a conversation... Do you really think there could be something between us?

He smirked, not taking his eyes off you:

• Why not?