Page 55 of Mafia And Maid

My heart’s hammering in my chest, my cock pressing uncomfortably against my zipper.

Fuck.

“Good night, Rosa.” I breathe out, walking back toward the garage doors.

I hear the soft click of the door behind me as she hurries into the mansion, and I swallow thickly.

***

Even though it’s late, I fit in an extra workout in our gym, and then head to the kitchen, passing Marco as he arrives home and makes for the office. Rummaging through the refrigerator, I find some lime and coriander chicken drumsticks left over from the lunch Rosa cooked for me yesterday when I unexpectedly dropped back home for lunch.Delicious.

Getting the dish out and setting it on the island, I realize I’ve left my phone in the gym. I sigh as I turn to get it, needing to make a quick call to the casino before I have my snack.

I’m back in a couple of minutes. And looking forward to my first bite of that juicy dish, I hurry into the kitchen.

And I stop dead in my tracks.

Because I can see the chicken.

And I can also see Marco’s stupid dog.

With a smug grin all over his dumb face.

As he eats my chicken and licks his greedy, slobbery lips.

“What the fuck! Why the hell are you eatingmy food?”

But he just ignores me, his paws all over the drumsticks while his snout digs around in the dish for his next bite.

“Marco, get in here before I commit murder!” I holler at the top of my voice as I clench and unclench my fists.

“What now?” he says as he stomps into the kitchen.

“That,” I snarl, jerking my chin toward the animal. “Your dog is completely out of control.”

“Technically, Mr. F is Juliana’s dog,” he drawls, referring to his wife. When they got married, Juliana unexpectedly brought with her Mr. Fluffy—which has to be the dumbest name for a dog I’ve ever heard. Most of us call him ‘Mr. F’ as a compromise. I mean, can you imagine a made man shouting out ‘Mr. Fluffy’ every time he takes his dog out to the park and needs to call him over? I’d die of embarrassment. Nah, actually, I’d shoot myself before I let myself be humiliated like that by an animal.

“I don’t care who he technically belongs to,” I grit out. “She’s your wife, and she left him in your care. Why the hell couldn’t she just take him to Italy with her? We’re not her fucking dogsitters.”

“You hardly lift a finger to help look after the animal,” Marco points out dryly.

I just glare at him and his dog. The animal seems to have a bottomless pit for a stomach and a fondness for stealing food.

I cross my arms over my chest. “Look,fur facehere is eating all my food,” I snap. “Rosa cooked thatespecially for me. Feed your own damn dog, and leave my food the fuck alone.”I’m not fucking sharing Rosa’s goodies with anyone fucking else.

Marco just stares at me without a single word of remorse or fucking sympathy before striding off and leaving me to clean up after his dog—all on an empty stomach.

First, Alessio tries to get Rosa to make his favorite cupcakes, then Mr. F getting all the bacon and all Rosa’s attention, and now this thing with the chicken. The dog, Marco, and Alessio all just need to leave Rosa the hell alone. Because Rosa is all mine—and only mine...

CHAPTER 13

ROSA

It’s my half day off, and my hand presses to my chest as I lean against Kori’s door after closing it behind me.

The sounds of the bustling Chicago neighborhood are a distant echo, and my lip wobbles as I will my feet to move down the porch steps—and away from Ethan again.

I didn’t think leaving him would be so damn hard this time, but each step feels like someone carving my heart out.