Maid for the Mafia by Jaylee

disappear toward my room, fast as lightning.

*Yeah. You better run. Bastard.*

When he disappears into my suite, it takesall of two seconds to decide to eavesdrop on them. Tip-toeing

back down the hallway like an idiot doesn't seem to make much sense, but | do it anyway, dropping my armful of

clothes on the floor near the stairs so | can keep my hands free. By the t| make it to the door and

precariously place my hand on the knob my brain is in overdrive and all kinds of little scenarios are floating

around in my mind. *Maybe | shouldn't.*

* mean, who really cares what happens to that jerk anyway?*

*Not me, that's for sure!*

So why am | suddenly so bloodthirsty? Why does the thought of watching that big handsy fuck off bleed in the

rug makedelirious with satisfaction? I've never been a vengeful type of girl before. How did this happen?

*Could it have been Mickey?*

Could *he* be the one that turnedon to this perverse desire to see the assholes that took advantage of me

meet their end? | know he's the one that started the wheels spinning, but | can't really put it all on him. Each of

my sexy little playmates have all played a part. Tiny and Mickey practically held a pissing contest in the

restaurant to decide who got to deal with Romano and I'd be lying if | said | didn't find their covert rivalry

insanely hot. And when Damien toldhe *and* Alex took care of Enzo this morning, for the next ten minutes |

was contemplating sexual favors for each of them.

*0Oh my God! What have | become?*

With that last thought in mind | gently ease my hand off the door, grab my discarded wardrobe and roadrun my

ass all the way to Damien's suite. The moment | step inside, I'm once again charmed by the personal touches he

has everywhere. | *like* seeing all the different little traces of his life. He has medals for boxing, for

marksmanship... for *CHESS!!!* Trophies for Krav Maga, Ninjutsu, Vale Tudo - whatever the *fuck* that is - and

*swimming*. *Swimming?* Heh. Go figure.

The fact is, my Dreamboat is a badass and one day I'd like to get hard from watching him in action. And then? I'll

fuck him silly right there next to his kill.

Shaking the image of a sweaty, half naked Damien beating Antony's ass from my mind, | get comfy on the couch

and text Simone about dinner. Her response is immediate and just cheerful enough forto finally decide what

to wear. With a devilish glint in my eye, | set off down the hallway in search of Damien's bedroom. Knowing the

layout of his suite matches Alex's, | set off down a similar hallway expecting to find Damien's bedroom in a

somewhat identical location, but when | open the door I'm met with what looks like a private dojo. There are

Japanese scrolls lining the walls, shelves loaded with different boxing gloves, a couple of punching bags in one

corner, a glass display case filled with different combat weapons in another...

No wonder his body is so... honed. He's a regular fanatic.

Setting off in an alternative direction, | finally find his bedroom at the end of the long hall and step inside giddily.

The decor in his room is definitely boasting sJapanese influence. Not to mention that the space is twice the

size of Alex's. *How odd. | wonder why that is...*

Paper lanterns glow with a soft yellow light, hanging from the ceiling three to a corner and his king sized bed is

set up on a three and a half foot wooden dais. Steps lead up each side of it, leaving about a foot and a half of

space around the perimeter of the bed. It's a four poster, like Alex's, but with red gossamer curtains that hang all

around it. | find myself mesmerized for a moment as | picture Damien sleeping there every night. Reminding

myself that Simone will be arriving any second with our dinner, | tear my eyes away and head for his large walk-

in closet. It doesn't take long to find what I'm looking for and when I do, | get dressed and then admire myself in

his full length mirror.

My deeply tanned legs are scandalously exposed. Looking dark and tempting before they disappear beneath a

pair of his white jockey shorts that I'm able to cinch at the waist by using the elastic. After | done one of his

rattiest, but decidedly *softest*, crew neck shirts, I tie it at the waist so it doesn't billow aroundlike a cape

and | bounce back down the hallway just in tto hear a soft knock at the door. Thinking it's Simone, | simply

flip the deadbolt and swing it wide open. | forget at that moment that | can't use my voice when the person at

the door is nobody I've ever seen in my life and my initial reaction is to say, "Who the fuck are you?"

Sadly, the sweet looking female in the hall *does not* understand my chopped up version of the phrase. To be

fair, it sounded more like *'Huthafu-ker* than *Who the fuck are you'* and | can't really fault her for looking a

little lost. *Fuck. All | can do is stare at her. That's it. That's all.*

Unfortunately, she seems to like that game, so that is literally all we do for the next three minutes and neither of

us seems inclined to smile.

*Is the bitch lost?*

When | hear the sound of the dreaded dinner cart struggling up the carpeted hallway, I finally let myself relax.

*Thank God! Simone!* | already gave Simone a rundown on what happened with Antony when | texted about

dinner. She can provide the voice and | can supply the **fuck offs'.*

As the dinner cart drags to a stop in front of the open doorway betweenand the girl - whoever she is -

Simone flinches, apparently noticing her for the first time.

"Hello Miss," Simone greets her, throwinga slightly inquisitive look. Eyeing the fancy little black dress the

*stranger* is wearing, Simone clears her throat and says, "This floor is usually off limits to guests. It is for

employee housing only and *you* don't appear to be one of the maids. So... is there something | can help you

with?"

The stranger shifts her cocoa colored eyes back and forth fromto Simone almost furiously. "Um, yes. My

nis Dana Rojas. | wasn't supposed to arrive until tomorrow, but | was so excited, | decided not to wait. |

hoped to surprise him when | got here but..."

Eyebrows raised questioningly, Simone's smile falters. "Him?"

Dana snorts with laughter (a most inharmonious sound might | add) and then palms her forehead (a little too

gently for my liking) and says, "Oh, sorry! Duh. Him... um... Damien." Her eyes flicker in my direction and | hope

to God that | look as angry as | feel. "I *thought* this was *his* suite, but I've only been here once so | probably

got the rooms mixed up." Dana tosses her flat brown hair over one shoulder haughtily. "Do you know where | can

find him? Like | said, | want it to be a surprise."

*0Oh yeah? Well congrats, bitch.*

*Consider this mission complete.*

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