Page 56 of Mafia And Maid

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Page 56 of Mafia And Maid

Video calls and phone calls only do so much, and I really needed to see him today. I wanted to hold him in my arms and remind myself that he’s safe. But all I can feel is a renewed surge of guilt as my vision blurs with tears.

Despite the money I’ve saved up—neatly stashed in an envelope under my mattress at the Marchiano estate—I’ve only squirreled half the amount I’ll need for a deposit, and it’s still not enough to get us out of the state and away from the horrors that haunt me around every corner.

Despair squeezes my chest at the thought, and I fight to keep the sob falling from my lips. I need to get myself together before I get to theestate. With one last parting glance over my shoulder, I fist my hand, forcing my eyes to drop back to the sidewalk.

Weaving in and out of the bodies that line the street, I walk to the bus stop. I stifle a yelp as a car backfires. As much as I want to enjoy the fresh air and freedom of being in the city, it’s too risky. The longer I’m outside the estate, the easier it is for someone to see me. The easier I am tofind. And if that happens, it’s over.

I need to get off the streets and back to the estate to some semblance of safety. At least the monsters that roam there don’t pretend to be anything less.

Getting to the bus stop, I jump onto the bus that is just about to depart, pulling the hood of my jacket over my head and face as the doors close behind me.

Restlessly, my knee bounces as I’m in my seat. As the movement of the bus lulls some of the tension from my body, my mind drifts back to the way Ethan’s face lit up when I met Kori and the two boys at the park. I sniff quickly, pushing back the tears that threaten to fall.

I reach the stop where I have to change buses. And after taking the second bus, I finally arrive at my stop.

It’s still a walk back to the estate, but I need the time to compose myself—and I also need the exercise. I wince at the thought, staring down at the curves of my body.

I shudder, knowing exactly where this line of thinking is leading. Nowhere good, but I can’t help my thoughts. Like a beast prowling inside my head, the words pounce upon me.

You should think about working out more.

Don’t you think that shows a little too much skin…you know, for someone with a body like yourself?

No one could love a fat pig like you...

The voices of my sister, my mother, and Grayden tumble around my mind—and they slash into me until I’m raw and bile burns the back of my throat.

I swallow it back and focus on making my way down the street and up the hill toward the Marchiano estate. I ignore the way my vision swims and the painful cramping of my stomach from lack of food and force my thoughts to something else. Anything else…

The image of Ethan at the park fills my mind. The way his clothing is worn thin but his cheeks are fuller. He’s a shell of the boy he should be. He’s reserved when he should be as boisterous as the other young children at the park.

He was permanently glued to my side, and yet I selfishly soaked it all up. Even now, the phantom warmth along my leg lingers. Blinking quickly, I try to keep the tears from my face.

“Everything okay, Rosa?” a guard asks as I pass through the gate.

I should know all their names by now, and I should make an effort to be friendly, yet I can’t even meet their eyes when they speak to me. I nod and scurry away toward the mansion, my purse clutched to my chest and my gaze downcast.

Even though I’m supposed to also have the evening off, I’m back in time to prepare dinner. I’ll squeeze in a quick stop at my room. The house is quiet when I enter, and I tiptoe my way toward my room. The less I’m seen like this, the better it is for me.

I try to distract myself with thoughts about my work. I like to think I’m doing a good job. The state of the house itself is pristine, including Camillo’s bedroom. I’ve yet to ruin a dinner or dessert since the day of Marco’s pep talk. I’ve nailed down Alessio’s closet system. Things have gotten better, if anything. I’ve made their lives easier—I hope.

My mind drifts to the dinner Camillo took me to. He said it was a thank you for my work, but after everything he said that night, I realize that it was actually meant as a date.

He called megorgeous, sexy, stunning. And he said he likes a woman with proper curves. And the way his thumb brushed my bottom lip…

Those definitely aren’t things that an employer would say.

As I pull out a fresh T-shirt to change into, my gaze catches the photo album with Ethan’s baby photos. Pulling it out, I sit on the edge of the bed and leaf through it. And the ache that is never far away rushes back into my heart.

Footsteps echo down the hall. My body automatically freezes in response, my breath lodging into my throat.

It takes me a moment to remind my body that Grayden isn’t here. It’s someone else. But my body refuses to relax even though I know I’m safe here—as safe as someone can be.

The heavy, deliberate cadence echoes off the walls. Each step is a solid thud, bearing the weight of the body, making the floorboards creak just enough under his imposing posture.Camillo.

It took me less than a week to distinguish between the footsteps of the brothers. A habit built over the years from the will and need to survive.

There’s a knock at my door. I shove the album under my pillow before slowly opening it.




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