Page 10 of Mafia And Maid
Nothing. Not a single prospect for a job. All I keep hearing is ‘we’re not hiring.’
What on earth had I been thinking when I thought that I could set up a new life for myself? I don’t have any experience. I’ve never had a job in my life. I’d been raised to be the perfect housewife—and I couldn’t even do that properly.
Tears prick my eyes, and I take a shuddering breath to push them away. I have to keep going.
Because whatever happens now, the only thing I know is that I can’t let Ethan down ever again...
CHAPTER 2
CAMILLO
I grimace at the loud laughter that fills the room. My headache is slowly blooming, and as much as I love my family, I’m definitely not enjoying this bonding time with the rugrats.
And that’s the problem of sharing a mansion with my brothers—they treat me like an unpaid babysitter.
I’m twenty-seven years old and their enforcer, not some fucking nanny.
And a couple of hours spent looking after their six kids, aged between two and eight, is my idea of complete hell.
The rugrats are noisy, demanding, and hyperactive—basically, a handful to keep track of as they chase each other non-stop around the couches.
I scrub a hand along the stubble on my jaw, my eyes darting to the stairs where I know their moms are busy packing their things for their trip.
“Look what I drew!” A sticky piece of paper is shoved into my face, startling me from my thoughts and making me jolt backward against the couch.
I’m given no choice but to take the paper. Some rudimentary shapes and squiggles bombard my eyes, but I’d be lying if I said I knew what I was looking at.
“It’s you!” Vincenzo says forcefully. Despite the lack of any resemblance, I try to look flattered as I hand it back to him.
“No, you have to keep it,” he pouts.
“For, um, how long?”
“Like,forever.” Yeah, like I said, they’re hyperactive and demanding.
“Er, thanks.” I set the paper down on the coffee table as I scope the room. One of the kids is playing with some building blocks quietly, and for that, I’m thankful. But the others? The others are busy playing tag, and I wince as the eldest two collide right into each other.
I’m up before they can even start screaming their heads off. “Hey, hey.” I crouch down, inspecting, assessing.
Maximo is rubbing his head, as is Xander. “You guys are good. That’s what your skulls are for—to protect you from getting hurt.”
But Xander’s lip wobbles, and I know what’s coming next.
“Nothing but a tiny bump,” I reassure him, mussing his hair. Because if he starts wailing, then I’m in deep shit.
He sniffs and nods, accepting the small hand Maximo offers. They mumble apologies to each other and take off running again as if nothing ever happened.
“Don’t run!” I holler after them.
“Hey! I wasn’t done with that!” Fia screams from the dining table.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. What now? If it’s not one thing, it’s another. I glare up at the stairs. How long does it take to fucking pack for Italy? Sure, it’s hard for the women to prepare when they don’t know how long exactly they’ll have to be away, but surely they know the safe house is going to be stocked.
“I’m still using it!” Fia snaps as she grabs the box of markers. “You can use it after.”
“I want a turn with them!” Nora whines, yanking at the box.
I watch the scene in slow motion as the markers go flying into the air and scatter, sending both girls flying to the ground to retrieve them and crashing heads. For fuck's sake, am I going to get through today without any of these kids sustaining a concussion?