Maid for the Mafia

**ROMANY**

I woke up the early next morning with my face so swollen I looked like a damned goldfish. My cell phone lay dead on the nightstand and as it was, I wasn't quite ready to breathe life back into the damn thing given the messages - or lack thereof that might or might not greet my battered gaze this morning. After jumping out of bed to pilf through my luggage, I took a two hour shower just to bring down the swelling in my eyes. Once I was done, I donned a pair of distressed blue jean shorts and a flowy off shoulder blouse that made my boobs look delicious. *Might be 'fairly pretty' my ass.* I ran a brush through my hair, spritzing the wide, curling waves with a touch of polisher and then I wound the single silver streak down the front into a flouncy spiral. One coat of mascara and a blot of lip gloss later I was bounding down the stairs toward the dining room looking like a girl on her way to the beach.

The moment my softly sandaled feet hit the first floor marble, all movement around the room seemed to freeze. Maids, gardeners, armed men dressed in black - all of which there was an abundance of - halted in their tracks to stare at me with wide confused eyes.

I cleared my throat, lowering my gaze as I pivoted toward the long hall and the dining room. I could feel the eyes of the men around the room lock on the sway of my hips as I passed them and for that I allowed a slight of a smile. But the women - the maids - scowled and huffed, whispering behind me cruelly. Their laughter chased me down the hall as I worked to control the confidence in my steps. I *would not* let the words of a few ignorant house servants disturb my five thousand dollar a week attitude. Oh no. For the money I was getting paid, those bitches could talk about me as much as they wanted to. *Go ahead, chickens. Cluck, cluck, cluck.*

I skidded to a stop in the dining room just as the clock on the mantle struck nine a.m. on the dot. The long dining room table looked as if it might seat twenty people. Or rather, twenty-two. There were ten chairs on each side of the dark black glass, and one more at each head. However, there were only places set for four people and as I stood there, I had to wonder *who* exactly those four people were.

"Well hello," a thick, buttery voice sounded behind me. "You must be Romany."

I spun around, my eyes going straight toward the floor and the dazzling set of ruby heels at the center. My gaze wandered upward, dancing over ivory skin and a black silk skirt, a wide red belt that wrapped beneath a modest A-cup bosom dressed in black bralette, before swinging up the final stretch of elegant neck that ended beneath a sharp slice of a chin and a two inch nose. The woman's lips were full at least. Painted a candy apple red in stark contrast to the milky translucence of her skin. Dark chocolate eyes narrowed on me, taking in my casual attire with a disdainful snort. Her pale blond hair was cut short, to just above her shoulders and it moved as a whole piece, hair sprayed into submission. Like a helmet or a wig...

"That's right," I confirmed absently, my eyes breaking off from her as servants began placing silver domed trays along the center of the table.

"I am Stella," she said. "Alex's personal assistant."

"That's fantastic," I replied, heading for one of the empty chairs in a hurry. The moment one of the servants lifted the lid off one of the platters, my tummy tried to bite through my skin. I realized right then that I hadn't eaten since yesterday morning. Unless you count all the alcohol and the ice that I submerged myself in last night. *I'm starving.* I plopped my ass down in the seat closest to the head of the table and began piling food on my plate, ignoring the disgusted grunts coming from Stella across the room.

"It is customary to await your host," she sniped, taking a standing position behind the chair directly opposite of me.

My hand froze, a piece of bacon in mid-flight as I gazed up at her. "Is that right?" I replied in a clipped voice before I closed my lips over the crunchy piece of pork goodness and proceeded to chew.

"It's fine Stella, have a seat. You are much too skinny," Alex said from somewhere behind me.

My body tensed, at the sound of that voice. I even stopped chewing for a moment as I felt his energy pass by the back of my chair. At the same time, Stella's entire face erupted with red fury, her pointy chin tensing as she sat and scowled at my plate.

I realized, I never even heard Alex come in. The doors along the wall behind me were entirely glass and seemed to lead onto the pool deck, but I didn't notice him out there when I first walked in. Then again, I wasn't really looking. I didn't really *see* anything beyond the food.

And Stella's chin.

"Did you rest well?" Alex asked, taking a seat to my left.

I ignored him at first. Too focused on the delicious sausage I was currently biting into and the flavorful juices that were saturating my tongue. Besides, I wasn't even really sure he was talking to me. He could have been talking to Stella. Or to one of the servers.

"I asked you a question," he said, snatching the fork out of my hand and the sausage out of my mouth. "Answer it."

My mouth fell open in irritation, my gaze flashing angrily before I looked his way. As my eyes settled on him I felt my face begin to heat. His dark black hair was dripping wet, the familiar scent of chlorine wafting past the savory aroma of sausage to synge my eyes. He was dressed in nothing but a pair of black swim trunks. Chest smooth and deliciously bare, his bronzed skin glistened in the morning sun. Powerfully built pectorals rose and fell with each controlled breath, speckled with the water of a fresh swim. He appeared bigger today than he did last night. Or... maybe that's just his muscles talking. After all, they are all there. Standing at attention and dominating the space. I dared not look downward past his abs. God only knew what magic resided there between his soaking wet thighs.

"Romany?" he prompted, depositing the stolen sausage into his mouth.

My lips pouted at the loss of my meat. "Yes?"

"Did you rest well?"

Glancing away from him to study my plate, I nodded. "I did. Thank you so much."

"Good," he said, stabbing my fork back into my pile of food for me. "You look to have a hearty appetite. I hope you have a strong stomach as well."

I didn't respond to that. Instead, I resumed eating. Glancing up for the barest second, I noticed Stella had exchanged her plate for a small bowl filled with half a grapefruit and a tiny little spoon. She ate quietly and almost secretively. Like it simply wouldn't do for anyone to actually *see* her eating. My brow furrowed as I polished off my eggs. I had to wonder - Is *she* the type of woman this man likes to surround himself with? Skinny and sharp and afraid to swallow carbs? Ruby is skinny too... well sort of. She's thinner than I am for sure, but she's mostly toned in all the places that I'm soft.

But Stella... I can see her elbows just a fright too well and I'll bet if she were to remove her wide ass belt, I'd be able to see her ribs too.

*Gross.*

After lifting a glass of orange juice to my lips, my gaze fell toward the dark black glass of the table and what lay beneath. I squinted, not entirely sure of what I was seeing at first. But the longer I focused my eyes and pretended to sip my juice, the clearer the image became.

Stella's skirt was hiked up under the table and her legs were spread a good deal apart. A long, heavily muscled arm protruded from between her legs, disappearing from the elbow down, into her skirt. The fabric flexed and bulged at the very center of her split. I knew what it was, how could I not? Even if I didn't, the sharp and sudden intake of Stella's breath would have clued me in.

*Alex DeMarco is finger banging this bitch across from me while I eat my goddamned eggs. Oh hell no.*

I absolutely refused to look at their faces. I was certain that if I did, I would live to regret it. For one thing, Miss Stella has a big damned nose and her nostrils probably flare when she's cumming. That thought alone was enough to ruin the smell of sausage for me for the rest of my damn life.

*Five thousand a week, five thousand a week, five thousand a week.*

Without saying a word, I replaced the glass of juice and as casually as I was able, pressed my body away from the table to leave the room without another word.