Maid for the Mafia by Jaylee

Chapter 112

Is it tomorrow yet?

**ROMANY**

When I wake up I'm in Alex's bed with the covers pulled up to my chin. My body is nude, I can feel the soft drag of his sheets when I try and move my legs. But there is no one around me, although when I strain my ears to listen, I hear a familiar voice issuing threats from down the hallway.

*Mickey?*

*Mickey is here.*

I try to sit up, but my body protests. For some reason it feels like I've been sleeping for days, but that can't be right, can it?

*Oh my God! What if it is right? What if I somehow missed my meetup with Santos' men?*

"Shit!" I grumble as I straighten my back against the headboard of the four poster monstrosity that is Alex's pillar of rest. My breasts spill free of the covering and I'm glad to see that I was wrong, I'm not *completely* nude after all. Some kind soul took the liberty of dressing me in fresh underwear at least.

*But why?*

*Oh yeah. Dana.*

The memory of her face as she bled out flashes before my eyes and I resist the urge to smile. *Again.*

*Who the hell am I becoming?*

stop in the doorway. He was obviously wearing a suit when he got here, but he must have shed the jacket and run his hands through his hair a thousand and one times.

he also looks undeniably

the covers that hide me from him as he leaps forward and gathers me in his arms. His scent envelops my body and I lean forward to rest my head on his shoulder while he takes a seat on the bed. "You've finally

it tomorrow yet?" I ask him, as one hand strokes

I ask, "How long

with his fingers, his eyes on my lips.

breath. *Good, not too late then.*

his normally vibrant green eyes muting. "What is the last thing that

through the hallway of my memories, Dana's shocked face emerges, then I work a little harder, blinking a few times as I struggle through the fog.

being alive... Damien carrying

me while I cried silently and shivered in the warm

me in

my vitals and speaking in a hushed tone while the three of them looked

I must have

eyebrows drawing together in worry. "He was shot!

over my knuckles. "Why would you bruise your hands, doll? You didn't

as he squeezes my palm in his. "Next time,

full on laugh out of me, but the moment doesn't last. The sound of my phone chirping with a text

tilts back as his gaze

have time

phone?" I

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