Maid for the Mafia

**ROMANY**

I whimpered softly, fighting the urge to scream bloody murder and run out the door.

Alex smiled against my ear then placed an open mouthed kiss along the side of my neck. "Get up now and remove the dishes. Then you may have a moment to freshen up before returning to this room." "What?" I gasped, turning my body in the direction of the muffled crying. "Return to this room?

Alex rolled his eyes, shaking his head at me like I was a broken doll that he just could not seem to fix. "If you would like to purchase the right to start asking questions, you just let me know and I will start paying you one thousand every two weeks, instead of ten."

I glared at him, cocking my eyebrows up in mock irritation as I stood and busily collected the plates. As I turned away, I could have sworn I caught him smiling at me. And not in the sadistic way that he did moments ago when he temp checked my hoo-haw. But in an almost wholesome, definitely amused, not so psychotic kind of way that *almost* had me smiling back. *Almost.* I still wasn't quite over that whole Stella Voyeur, from that morning, and I damn sure wasn't about to let him turn *me* into his newest sideshow.

Turning my attention back to the group, my eyes sought out Dreamboat. He was at least a couple of inches taller than the rest of the men, and so far as I could tell, was the only of them that was inked. Maybe, it was a mafia thing. Maybe *that* was the reason someone like Alex, a notorious criminal, didn't have any tattoos. Ruby did tell me once that tattoos were frowned upon amongst active members, because it hindered them with a vulnerability of sorts. It made the bearer of the tattoo that much easier to identify. By both *enemies* and *law enforcement agencies*. Regardless, I've always kind of believed that tats and bad boys go hand in hand. And right about now, Damien is the *only* one causing the Niagara Falls to flood *my* drawers, not Enzo! *Bleh!*

Right at the center of the four, directly in front of Damien, sat a man taped to a wheelchair. The top half of his body was covered with a large black trash bag, so I really had no idea who the man might be. Not that I would have *without* the trash bag on his head, but something about the dude's clothes seemed to nag at me, however I couldn't quite figure out why. I mean the chances of me knowing *anyone* in this place, beyond my cousin Ruby, were slim to none. But what if the man in the chair was someone important? Like a governor, or a mayor. I might at least recognize *him*. The same way that I did Enzo and Antony.

*And what are you going to do about it if you do recognize him, Ro? Save him? Call the police?*

Shaking the last few crazy thoughts from my head, I released the brakes on the dining cart. For a second, I considered retrieving the knife from Enzo's chair, but then thought better of it. *Leave the damn thing. Maybe they'll kill each other.* After all the dishes were neatly secured, I glanced toward where the four men were now gathered in deep discussion. My eyes settled on Damien. Staring at him as intensely as I could, I willed him to look my way. He continued to stand there silently, his eyes a dark frosted blue and his arms crossed tightly over his chest. *Pretending* he wasn't fully aware of the fact that I was staring. *Whatever. Fuck you too, Dreamboat.* I wasn't sure if he was ignoring me out of anger or out of fear, and as much as I wanted to know, I was sure that now was not the time to ask. So I sighed and pushed toward the exit, rolling the cart as quickly as I could in an attempt to gain momentum once I exited into the carpeted hall. The moment the doors closed behind me, I inhaled a deep cleansing breath and smiled at the bright sun filled hallway before me. That room we were in was the only room that I've seen here that seemed to be black, on black, on more black, on extremely dark, nearly black wood. The space was downright gloomy.

Turning around, I decided to place the dining cart against my back and push it over the plush carpeting *that* way. I was just about to give it a go, when the doors in front of me opened and my Dreamboat stepped out. I couldn't help the grin that lit up my face, "Dream-" I shook my head, "Damien!"

To my utter dismay, he didn't smile back at me. He didn't even *look at me. All he said was, "I'll get this down to the kitchens for you. Go ahead and take a moment. Take a shower or something."

My cheeks fired. *OMG! Do I smell? Am I... hey now, wait just a minute.* I glared at Damien's back as he slowly pushed the cart toward the servant's elevators.

I stomped toward him, poking him in his big muscled back with my sharpest bitch claw. He flipped around on me like a damned ninja, glaring at me with what could only be described as disgust. For the quickest second I was even a little afraid of him, but then I remembered, *Ruby* called this little prick special and asked him to babysit me. Ruby *never* trusts anyone that isn't her to be in charge of my safety. So *that* fact alone crumples his whole paper house.

I gave him one final withering glance (you know, the type of glare that all of us ladies used to give bitches in the third grade when we wanted them to feel our ire from every corner of the fucking playground) and then I lit up. "A shower? Seriously? Because I'm dirty, is that right?" I shoved him, ignoring the fire that immediately lit between my thighs when my fingers met with the solid oak of his abs and I nearly fell to my knees in worship. "You're calling me dirty because *your* boss *forced* me onto his lap just to humiliate me? Because he *used* me like one of his toys? Just to piss off his fucking thirty year old dinner date? Because of that, you think you get to treat me like I'm unworthy? Well fuck that and fuck you. You don't have to like me or even push my goddamned dinner cart. But you *don't* get to disregard me, and you*will* fucking respect me."

With that, I simply turned and walked away.