Page 42 of Mafia And Maid
Of course, that’s it. It has to be. One nice thing was said to me, and I got a fuzzy feeling inside my chest.
He’s just being polite. Thanking me and complimenting the cooking. He doesn’t mean it in the way I’m taking it.
What can I expect, though, when I learned to lick scraps of love off knives instead of being fed it on a silver spoon?
I shake my head. I need to get a grip and remember why I’m here.
Remember just how important this job is.
I can’t mess it up.
And ogling one of my employers or letting myself develop any sort of attachment to him is definitely a step in the wrong direction.
But each time he speaks, his gravelly rumble sends a shiver of something down my spine.
It’s messed up and wrong to want a man like him—to hope that he might see me in some way that isn’t fat, repulsive, and broken. The words of everyone in my life haunt me like ghosts, reinforcing what I already know. I am nothing. Not to Grayden. Not to my family. Not to these men. And especially not tohim.
Yet the little pitter-patter of my heart tries to stoke that crushed and crumbling spark inside me back to life.
And it whispers faintly,but what if...?
CHAPTER 10
CAMILLO
Rosa’s cooking has improved by leaps and bounds lately. I don’t know what’s changed, but she’s less nervous when she’s in the kitchen.
It’s still early as I sit at the island with my coffee while Alessio is flipping through the newspaper. Not much goes on at breakfast except for some business talk usually. But today is different because the tension in the air is thick. And it’s all about…
Cupcakes.
Yesterday, Rosa made chocolate brownies, all rich, soft, and gooey. The day before, it was a peach pie that nearly made me weep. But today is cupcake day. And cupcakes are my absolute favorite.
“Rosa, I think you should make banana chocolate chip cupcakes,” Alessio says, trying to sound casual, but I can hear the underlying edge in his voice. As his arms lean on top of the kitchen island, he stares at Rosa with that intense look he gets when he really wants something. And things with banana or chocolate chips are his favorites, but when they’re both together, he feels like he’s won the lottery.
Rosa, standing by the oven, nods politely. “Banana chocolate chip, okay.”
“Wait,” I grit out as I slam my coffee cup down, the liquid sloshing out onto the counter. “Rosa, if you’re making cupcakes, I think your peanut butter cupcakes with the special frosting are the way to go.” I can already taste the decadent frosting with the special drizzle of honey that Rosa adds at the end. “You know, a little something rich and satisfying, not just predictable banana chocolate chip.”
Alessio rolls his eyes. “Banana isn’t predictable, and chocolate chips are a classic and the foundation of all good desserts.”
“Foundation, maybe,” I shoot back, “but it’s boring. Peanut butter has depth, it’s—”
“Boring,” Alessio cuts in. “Everyone’s doing peanut butter cupcakes right now.”
Food is an important part of my life; when it’s something made by Rosa, however, I just turn into a crazy person. I don't know why but I want her to cook and bake only for me, and I don’t want to have to share her with anyone else. I want to be the one showering her with compliments, I want to be the one building up her confidence—and I want to be the one making her smile.
“I could make a small batch of both?” Rosa suggests carefully. “That way, you can both have your favorite.”
My head automatically shakes, my freshly washed locks swinging from side to side. “No, no, no. Nuh uh. That won’t work. If you're making banana chocolate chipfor him, that means less peanut butter cupcakesfor me.”
Rosa raises an eyebrow at us both.
“A small batch of both flavors sounds a good compromise,” Alessio says with a scowl.
“Although, if you don’t have enough chocolate chips, then you can make all of them in peanut butter flavor,” I add.
“And why exactly would she not have enough chocolate chips?” Alessio growls.