Page 31 of Mafia And Maid
I bite back a whimper and tell myself that it’s no different from patching myself up or helping Ethan when he’s scraped his knee. I’ve seen blood. And I’ve had it on my fingers… But this time, it's very different.
I take one inhale, then another, and set to work.
Once the bullets are out, Camillo hands me a needle. “You stitch Marco. I’ll do Alessio.”
Avoiding Marco’s dark gaze lasering into me, I work the needle through his skin, watching each insertion and extraction as if I were in someone else's body.
When I finish the last pull, Camillo is wrapping Alessio’s wounds and muttering to him about something I can’t quite catch over the frantic beat of my heart.
The buzzer for the garlic bread in the oven sounds. I yelp and jump nearly a mile high, almost knocking over the bowl filled with bloody bullets and a few stray lettuce leaves.
My fingers pinch at my thigh in an attempt to distract me from the agitated beating in my chest.
I need to move. To dosomething. But I’m rooted to the spot. A shaky breath leaves me.
I tell myself I can’t burn dinner. I take one step, then another, and feel how unsteady each movement is. My fingers are stained with red, and each finger has a tremor that won’t stop.
My hands leave small prints on the counter until I make it to the sink. And then reality crashes into me.
These men behind me are far worse than my father or Grayden. They’re the true terrors of the world. Every single one of them. Unphased by the blood that mars their pristine kitchen or the metallic smell of it in the air, they live within it, unbothered by the wounds that are now being wrapped up as if it’s simply another day of the week.
And it is.For them.
My father was right when he spoke about them. His words come flooding back to me. He said that they’re ruthless, brutal, bloodthirsty. Deadly in a way that sucks the air from the room and suffocates you. I’m nothing to these people. Expendable and replaceable. And that’s never been more apparent than right now. They have enemies, and those people are just as dangerous when they retaliate against them. This is nothing like Grayden or the world I ran from. I’ve jumped from the frying pan into the fire. I’m trying to make my life safe—but it can never be this while I’m around men who are criminals for a living.
This is an entirely different world.
And I can’t stay here for too long...
I willingly walked into the lair of a monster and thought if I worked hard enough, if I just did as I was told, I’d be okay. That I’d make it out of this. That I’d turn a blind eye and ignore whatever happened.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. I can hear Grayden’s taunting laughter in my head, echoing the thoughts that continue to beat into me like punches.
Washing my hands, I watch as the red circles the drain, my fingers turning pink from the heat of the water. Tonight, after my call with Ethan, I’ll have to figure out my next step.
Mutely, I turn toward the counter and begin to scrub the evidence away. It’s not my blood, but it might as well be.
The soft murmurs of the brothers talking hit my ears before Camillo hauls Alessio out of the room and upstairs to his room.
And I’m left all alone with Marco…
CHAPTER 8
CAMILLO
After getting Alessio into his bed, I quickly shower, and then head down for dinner. Not much puts me off my food, and a delicious smell is wafting from the kitchen.
Getting back downstairs, I see that dinner is chicken parmesan—one of my favorites.
Rosa is creeping around Marco as she dishes up dinner at the table.
“For God’s sake,” Marco growls, “stop tiptoeing around. Just put the food on the fucking table.”
“Marco,” I say in a warning tone.
We start to eat while Rosa washes the pans. I try not to wince, not wanting to draw Marco’s attention to how bad the food is. As if there’s any chance of him not noticing...
“This chicken is raw in the middle!” he yells, clearly forgetting everything I said to him last night about being nicer to her. “Are you trying to fucking kill us?”