Being a waitress in the biggest restaurant in the city is a prestigious job with a good salary. And, unfortunately, a waste of nerve.

Every customer who came to fill his belly was eager to show off his fat wallet. But despite how unpleasant it was, there was no denying the benefits that came with such customers.

Smile, be polite and kind, and then, perhaps, for a pretty face you will be praised with a tidy sum of tips. Thank your employer for valuing the safety of his employees and not skimping on security.

Every movement of the client towards the waitresses was immediately recorded, and if it carried a vulgar connotation, it was immediately interrupted. Such people were threatened to become persona non grata and forever lose access to the restaurant, where major deals or problems were solved and concluded.

The atmosphere was always quiet, and that's why you frown as you watch the restaurant management running around in a panic right now, preparing the room for 'important' visitors you know nothing about.

Just before the guests arrive, you are informed that the Russian military, headed by Vladimir Makarov himself, has deigned to sample the haute cuisine. Unfortunately, it was you who had the 'honour' of serving their leader's table.

When the men were seated, you approached the man with a polite smile. Just one look at him already portended serious trouble for you.

"Good afternoon. Have you decided on your order yet?" Even though it was unpleasant for you to ingratiate yourself to the rich man every time, work is work, so you only smiled sweetly, resignedly.

"What are you doing here? Don't waitresses go to waitresses for those whose position in society isn't distinguished by standards of morality, girl?" The smirk on the man's lips only grew wider, seeing you fumble for words, trying to be polite