Maid for the Mafia by Jaylee

Damien Vee

**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."

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

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

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

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

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,

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

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.