Page 35 of Mafia And Maid
“Oh, honey…” Helen says softly. “Is this why you didn’t want your hair too short?”
Rosa nods slowly, her eyes shining.
And I look down to see what Helen is staring at.
It’s at the base of Rosa’s scalp—it’s a large bald patch.
“Have you suffered some hair loss?” Derek asks after a quick glance. He’s concentrating on my hair and isn’t really paying attention to Rosa and Helen, and he hasn’t noticed Rosa’s expression.
When Rosa doesn’t say anything, Helen reaches forward and grasps her hand tightly. “I’ve seen patches due to hair loss,” she says quietly, “but I’ve also seen patches like this—I can tell that someone ripped your hair out… I’m so sorry, honey.”
Derek’s eyes instantly gleam with sympathy, and he pats her arm. “Don’t worry, sweetie,” he says in a kind tone, “no one can even see it, and it looks like it’s already growing back. You’ll be back to your old self in no time.”
While they comfort her, I give her a small smile, hoping that this won’t make her feel too awkward in front of me. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I murmur in a low voice, and she shoots me a grateful smile.
The rest of the appointment passes with some casual conversation, and when we’re back in the SUV and driving home, I look across at Rosa. But the only thing I can see is red.
And I know that when I find out who the fuck did this to her, he’s going to be really fucking sorry...
***
As I dig into my stack of pancakes, I hear the heavy footsteps of my brothers echoing down the hallway. The scent of sweat and the faint metallic tinge of blood hits me even before they step into the room, telling me that they’ve just done their morning boxing training in our gym.
I barely spare them a glance as they stride to the kitchen counter, both bare-chested, wearing only their gym shorts.
Rosa looks up as they sit down, and her eyes widen as she takes in the sight of them. Her face pales as she stares at the blood on them, and I can see the fear in her eyes, the kind that’s raw and instinctual.She’s scared.
My eyes watch the way she’s shrinking into herself and trying to make herself inconspicuous.
I glance back over at my brothers. Their muscles are gleaming perspiration, and the tattoos stretching across their broad chests each tell a story of the countless fights they’ve been through, the battles they’ve won, and the enemies they’ve made along the way. Them turning up to breakfast like this is nothing new to me, but it’scrystal clear that it’s making Rosa uncomfortable—more than that, it’s outright terrifying her.
“Rosa,” Marco barks.
“Y-yes, sir?”
“Maple syrup,” he demands.
She grabs the bottle from the shelf, almost tripping over her feet as she rushes to bring it over to Marco. As she sets it down with a shaking hand, she knocks over the glass of juice he’s just poured.
“Oh God, I’m s-sorry,” she stutters.
Marco just looks at her with his trademark glare, doing nothing to help matters.
“Don’t worry about it, Rosa,” I say quietly.
Her gaze darts downward, and she dashes back to deal with the dirty dishes in the sink.
Marco pokes at his pancakes, scowling as he notices all the burned bits, but thankfully, he keeps his mouth shut for once.
We talk about casino business as we eat, but I find it hard to ignore the tension in her shoulders.
She mumbles something about seeing to the laundry and hurries off.
Marco frowns at her departing back. “I wanted her to make some more coffee,” he complains.
I set my cup down with more force than necessary, the sharp sound making my brothers pause. “Make your own fucking coffee,” I growl.
“What the hell’s gotten into you this morning, Millo?”