Page 1 of Vows of Blood

1

SIENNA

“What are you, a nun?” Rebecca’s fingers are at my collar before I can stop her, flicking open the top button of my white blouse.

“What are you doing?” I swat her hand away, looking around to see if our manager is watching.

She steps back, tilting her head as she scrutinizes me. Frowning, she flicks another open, ignoring my indignant yelp, then she nods, finally satisfied.

I go to re-close one before I get told off for not being appropriately dressed, but Rebecca grabs my hands and presses closer, getting right into my personal space.

Closing her eyes like she’s praying for patience, she whispers quietly, “So help me, Sienna, if you don’t use those looks to get us real tips tonight, I will never forgive you,” she pleads, giving me her best puppy-dog eyes. “Please. This is a massive opportunity. The best one we’re going to get. I really need this.”

Thinking of the overdue rent notice sitting on my coffee table, I have to concede, I need this too.

Rebecca grabs my shoulders and turns me toward the narrow mirror by the service entrance. Standing behind me, with her wild curls wrestled in a thick bun, she grips the tops of my arms and forces me to look at myself.

“Smile, please,” she begs. “You look like you’re going to a funeral.”

I can’t argue with that. The person staring back at me looks tense and hollow-eyed, so I attempt to look enthusiastic, lifting the corners of my mouth in the biggest, fakest smile I can muster.

“Jesus, that’s the best you’ve got? You look deranged.” Rebecca sighs, shaking her head. “We’re doomed to be poor forever.”

Then she gives herself a little shake and dusts herself off before switching back into her default ultra-cheerful mode.

“Try again. This time, think of stuffing wads of cash into your purse at the end of the night and see if that helps.” A wink. “Or bagging yourself a rich date.”

Rolling my shoulders back, I have another go, giving her the biggest grin I can manage.

She glares. “That might be worse but come on. It’ll have to do.”

She drags me to the corner and ushers me forward to peek around with her. The main dining room of Bellini’s Italian restaurant is closed tonight for a private event, an engagement party for the restaurant’s mysterious new owner.

Nobody’s seen him. We don’t even know his name, but every server on staff has been called in, warned to be on their best behavior, and is being paid double time to stay until the last guest leaves.

Closing time and last orders are not a thing tonight.

“Do you see this place?” Rebecca points at the staff running around, the extravagant flower arrangements, last-minute cleaning and polishing of every surface. “Everyone is losing their freaking minds over this party.”

Whoever the imminent arrivals are, they’ve got the entire building on edge. Our head chef has been screaming an impressive variety of Italian curse words since noon, and I’ve never seen management sweat like this.

Everyone was forced to turn off their phones and warned that if they were even seen looking at them, let alone trying to snap some pictures, they’d be fired on the spot.

“He has to be a celeb,” Rebecca muses, staring in awe at the literal red carpet being rolled out at the front door. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Bellini’s is a high-end restaurant in downtown Chicago. We’re used to having famous guests, wealthy clientele, and high-profile restaurant critics, but this is something else entirely.

“I don’t get why everyone’s panicking. Sucking up to the new boss is one thing, but do they think he’s going to close the place down if every last detail isn’t perfect?”

He bought the place and he’s choosing to have his engagement party here. Both of which suggests to me that firstly, he’s been here before, and secondly, he liked what he saw.

“They want to keep their jobs, Sienna.” Rebecca hooks her arm through mine and pulls me back, looking me dead in the eye. “And so do we.”

I hadn’t even thought of that. Is this some kind of test? And whoever fails to impress gets shown the door?

It seems a bit far-fetched, but if there’s any chance it’s true, I need to make sure that doesn’t happen. Without this job, I’d be royally screwed. I’m barely keeping my head above water as it is.

The general manager appears in the kitchen doorway, and his expression sours when he sees us spying on the preparations instead of working. His normally tanned face is grey, and his skin is clammy. He claps his hands twice, and every server snaps to attention. Usually serious and professional but friendly, his mood tonight is completely different. It’s immediately obvious he’s not in the mood for jokes.