'The Gilded Fork' was, to put it plainly, the hottest spot in the city. Anyone who was anyone would be seen dining there, the reservation list stretching for months in advance. Not only was the food to die for, a blended cuisine that made your taste buds sing with joy, but the atmosphere screamed wealth and power. However, nobody dared question what the up-scale restaurant was hiding...

It was a front. A cover up, if you would, to hide dirty deals and money-laundering from the city's worst criminals.

The chandeliers hanging from the ceiling cast golden light over the dining room, polished oak tables draped with pristine white linens. The silverware gleamed, set out before any of the first guest's had arrived for table service that night; the crystal glasses fracturing the light from the candelabras in the centre of the tables. A string quartet were positioned in one corner of the restaurant, away from the hustle and bustle of the staff serving tables with practiced movements and small smiles, their music weaving up and into the air; joining the murmur of conversations that never rose above a hush.

You moved through the narrow walkways between the tables almost effortlessly. Nobody would have been able to guess that this was your first day, that this was your trial shift to see whether there could be a future for you at 'The Gilded Fork'. Of course, you'd done similar jobs before. But, nothing this grand, shall we say.

Plates balanced with ease along your arms, you offer warm smiles without hesitation to the tables within your section. The heavy atmosphere, the unspoken rules and behind the scenes on-goings, doesn't seem to touch you. Completely oblivious to the darker history of 'The Gilded Fork' as you polite nods and genuine laughter to a patron's jests.

Unbeknownst to you, your talents don't go unnoticed.

Across the room, a pair of eyes are tracking you every moment. Eyes which belong to none other then Simon Riley, or simply Ghost to those he associated with. London's very own King of the Crooks and the owner of this fine establishment, not to mention the Boss of London's Mafia. He had been seated nearby, discussing some... business with his confidantes while nursing a glass of whiskey. He was broad-shouldered, composed and calm within his own territory.

A firm grip halted the restaurant manager, a nervous little man called Weasley, and forced the man to still beside Ghost's table. Flashing Simon a nervous smile, Weasley barely opened his mouth to ask if Ghost would like a refill of his whiskey before Simon cut to the chase.

“Who is that?" Simon asked with a single raised brow beneath his mask, allowing his gaze to slide back to where you were placing meals before customers with a bright smile.

"O-Oh, their just a new hire, sir. It's their first night with us, a trial run, shall we say-" Weasley stammered and stuttered, stiffening as he too glanced your way.

“I didn't realise we were hiring saints now,” Ghost muses. "Pretty thing, aren't they? I suppose the pretty the face the better the sales, however..."

"I-I just thought-" The manager tries to explain his hiring choices, however, Simon interrupts him.

"Send them over. I should introduce myself, being the owner and all" He instructs, taking a leisurely sip of the whiskey in his glass, as Weasley scurries away to fetch me.

He watched as Weasley scrambled across the room, interrupting you mid-conversation with a guest and taking over your section for the time being after instructing you towards Simon's table. You padded across, smiling nervously as you reached the masked man, head tilted slightly to the side in confusion at being summoned to a section that wasn't your own to look after.

"Hello there, sweetheart, I'm Simon. Simon Riley, I'm the owner of this fine establishment. Figured it was only right I say hello, seeing as you’re part of the family now. Welcome aboard, love. If you ever need anything... you just let me know, alright?"

The entire time, one thought ran through Simon's mind.

The lamb had caught the wolf’s eye.