Page 163 of Mafia And Maid
“These women were there for me in my hour of need,” she snaps. “It’s the least I can do to thank them.” But I know that the real reason she’s having all these events is to gloat over how much money our father left in his will. “Now, we’ll have to gloss over the wholethingwith you, Rosa.”
I lift my gaze, unable to help the pucker of my brow. “What thing?”
“You being with that thug,” Reagan replies. “It’s all anyone is talking about. We certainly don’t need to add any more embarrassment to our good name.”
My mother nods. “And the fact that you were his servant as well as sleeping with him. It reflects poorly on us. With your stooping so low, people will think we’re broke or something.”
“And Ethan will simply have to disappear—we can’t possibly have him at the luncheon.”
“I’m sorry?”
The harshness of my tone snaps my mother’s eyes to me. “You simply can’t watch him when you’re supposed to be helping me. I would have thought that much is obvious. Hildie can watch him for a few hours, so you’ll be free to see to the list of things I need you to do today.”
“I can do both,” I grit out, my knuckles white as I grip the glass in my hand. Anger simmers within me. “Ethan’s no trouble,” I say firmly, “and his place is by my side.” I look down at my little boy and give him a reassuring smile and a comforting squeeze to his hand.
My mother’s eyes narrow at me. But I’m not backing down when it comes to Ethan—ever.
And silence stretches between us until my mother and Reagan rise from the table and leave.
***
Ethan watches me as I stand in front of the mirror, smoothing my skirt down for the millionth time.
The soft knock on the door has me sucking in a deep breath. “Come in.”
I expect to find Hildie with a tray of Ethan’s favorite snacks, but when I turn around, I’m met with my mother’s pursed lips.
“You’re not wearingthat, are you?”
I look down at my knee-length skirt and fitted blouse. It’s smart and elegant.
“Change.”
“W-what?” I say, unable to stop the stutter. I hate that the backbone I’ve gained over the last few months disappeared so quickly almost as soon as I returned here.
“If you insist on not taking care of your body and embarrassing this family because of it, you’ll dress in something that is a lot more suited to your shape—something that will cover up all your flab and rolls of fat.”
The familiar burn at the back of my eyes makes me drop my gaze, and the sigh of my mother feels like a slap. “You should have brought more appropriate clothing with you instead of what you’ve got used to wearing as that thug’s whore.” She steps into the room, giving Ethan’s little body a wide berth with a disdainful curl of her lip. “And have you been following the diet I gave you?”
A harsh laugh strangles itself in my throat. The diet in question is nothing but the loss of anything joyful about food. A small crumb-like portion that’s just shy of starving me compared to the opulent dishes my mother and Reagan dine on.
“Or are you sneaking food? If you’re not going to care about what you look like, Rosa, how on earth can you expect anyone else will treat you with respect?”
My mouth opens and closes.
“Hurry up and get changed.” She wrinkles her nose as she runs her gaze over me. “Something that isn’t so tight and trashy. And not that hideous T-shirt you insist on wearing around the house either. The thought that someone will know it’shisis unacceptable.”
Camillo’s black T-shirt is my lifeline. Mixed into my clothing, it’s the last thing I cling to as a glimmer of hope. It doesn’t smell like him anymore, but sometimes I delude myself into believing it does while it clings to my body in sleep.
“Just find something. Tomorrow, I’ll make sure the chef knows you’re on a new, stricter diet and get a trainer in. If you won’t fix the problem, I will.”
The door closes, and as Ethan continues playing on the bed with his teddy bear, I slump against the dresser, staring at my reflection in the mirror opposite.
“You know, if you really cared about this family and our image, you’d have taken Mother up on that surgery. Then, we wouldn’t be dealing with your problem right now.”
“Why are you so selfish, Rosa? It’s embarrassing having to explain to everyone why you look the way you do…”
A part of me whispers that she’s just doing what she thinks is best for me. That it’s justified because of how I look.