The Waitress With a PhD Who Silenced a Arrogant And Rude Billionaire
Chapter 2
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Camille had withdrawn from the program within a week. She'd flown home, her dissertation unfinished, her dreams packed away like the books she had to sell to pay for the plane ticket. There was no discussion, no hesitation. Her mother had raised her alone, working two jobs to send Camille to good schools. When Gloria Johnson needed help, Camille came home.But coming home meant starting over. Her savings evaporated within a month. Medical bills piled up faster than she could count them. She applied for jobs in her field, but everyone wanted someone with a completed degree. The only place that hired her immediately was the Sterling Oak, an upscale restaurant downtown.Mrs. Patterson, the owner, was a stern woman with silver hair and sharp eyes. "You're overqualified," she had said, looking at Camille's resume. "But you need work, and I need servers. The pay is decent, tips are good if you smile. Can you smile?"Camille had smiled. She'd been smiling ever since, even when her feet ached, even when customers snapped their fingers at her, even when men like Theodore Lancaster spoke about her like she was worthless.Now, standing in the bright kitchen with its stainless steel counters and white tile walls, Camille closed her eyes and thought of her mother. Gloria was at home, probably watching television in her favorite blue chair, her medication lined up on the side table—the medication that cost $800 a month, the medication that kept her alive."Table seven is ready to order." Mrs. Patterson's voice cut through Camille's thoughts. The owner stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable. "Is there a problem?""No, ma'am," Camille said quickly. "I'll take their order now."She picked up her notepad and walked back into the dining room. The bright lights seemed harsher now, the murmur of conversation louder. Theodore Lancaster was still holding court at table seven, his companions hanging on his every word.When Camille approached, Theodore looked up with that same cold smile. "Oh, she's back. Ready to take our orders?""Yes, sir," Camille said, pen poised. "What can I get for you?"Theodore ordered the most expensive steak, making a show of pronouncing everything in an exaggerated way, as if she couldn't understand basic English. His companions followed suit, each order delivered with barely concealed amusement.When Camille finished writing and turned to leave, Theodore's voice stopped her. "Wait. I have a question."She turned back. "Yes?""Do you even understand what I'm saying?"His associates laughed again. One of them, a woman with short blonde hair and a red dress, looked uncomfortable but said nothing.Camille met Theodore's eyes. For a moment, she considered responding in perfect German. She considered explaining that she had spent three years in Paris, that she had presented papers at conferences in Berlin and Vienna, that she probably knew his language better than he did. But she thought of her mother. She thought of the medical bills. She thought of the job she desperately needed.