Maid for the Mafia by Jaylee

Never Never Land

**DAMIEN**

Stepping back out of my newly structured closet to admire my handiwork, my lips twist into a naughty grin and I allow myself to get excited for lunch. *She's going to be so pissed, but in the end it will be totally worth it.*

Romany wasn't at breakfast, and coincidentally, neither was I. I watched the dining room live feed from right here in my room. On the edge of panic the entire time, as I waited for my sweet girl to arrive. I didn't want to get caught in whatever web Dana would certainly try to weave around me *unless* my jealous midget Barbie actually showed up. I know from experience, shaking Dana off of my leg can be an all day kind of jam and I didn't feel like dancing to that tune. Nope...instead I simply waited, telling myself the moment Romany showed her face I would hightail it downstairs to intervene.

I had planned to be there, of course. *Hoped and ached* to be *really* but I also knew that Romany *might* go out of her way to avoid me this morning. Especially after my little attempt at a clit tease backfired in the most awful of ways, but I had yet to even *see* Dana at all. And the one thing I was *sure of*, was that *she* would most *definitely* be in attendance at breakfast, which she was. I *also* knew that there was no way in hell I could allow the pair of them to sit at the table together without me as a buffer. Or a referee. Or a rumor monitor. Or whatever it was that sat in between two catty females with sparkling claws.

The way Romany had reacted this morning surprised the fuck out of me. I mean sure, *maybe* it was a dick move on my part, trying to force her awake so that I could lay into her luscious body. Maybe I didn't use the right tactic, maybe it might have even been a little pervy.

But what I said wasn't in any way true! I would never, ever, ever, in a million years and a thousand suns - think that Dana could ever be a stand in for my gorgeous little siren. I mean...honestly? Who would?

But I also didn't believe she would react as violently as she had.

She fucking slapped me. *ME!?* Her Dreamboat - or so she likes to call me.

I snicker to myself, a tingling heat lighting across my face when I remember the very first time she revealed her nickname for me.

for me. It actually makes me feel like I am

toward the door. Leaving my room in its new transitional

me to ribbons. The thought actually has me smiling as I

even a limp dick asshole that only got hard for little Dana like elves, would be able to see the two

ten dollar sparkling cider and a flute of Armand De Brignac. They

for some guy out there somewhere, but...not one like

knights in shining armor and heroes slaying dragons were gone, leaving in their wake - visceral, aggressive, *selfish* men that cared more about their money than their

men had one very

of them ever wanted for

black uniform, I'm wearing a tightly fitted white shirt that stretches across me like a second skin, and a pair of fashionably ripped blue jeans. The shirt is short sleeved with a widened vee neck, leaving most of my best attributes on display. Why? Because I know now much my lady likes my tattooed muscles and I *also* know

the grand hall and catch my first glimpse of her twinkling

then I step a little closer and all of my little lap lunch fantasies burn to a crisp, dying a swift and massively punishing death as anger rises into my throat and my fists clench sides. She's lapping

a moment, I almost can't believe

It can't be.

fucking