Page 14 of Married to the Mafia Monster

“Ask me something else.”

I study him, the dangerous edge to his demeanor only making him more attractive. “Who are you really?” I ask. “You’re clearly hiding things. Is Alex even your real name?”

“It is.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

He shrugs. “I don’t want to lie to you. Up to you if you believe that or not.”

“And you’re spying on me because?”

“You don’t want to know,” he says, his tone dark and serious. “Once you open that box, it can’t be closed. Better not open it unless you have to, trust me. Next question.”

The intensity in his eyes makes me shiver with desire. “Why did you spend so much money to get the room you did?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. “What’s so important about that room?”

He leans in, his eyes locking onto mine. “Because it’s directly above yours.”

My breath catches. “And why does that matter?”

“Because I wanted to get a camera into your room,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, seductive tone. “Fed it through the vents.”

“You are spying on me. Fuck, what the hell?”

“I needed to keep an eye on you. Wanted to get close to you too. That’s a bad idea, though. I see that now.”

I’m taken aback, but curiosity and desire surge through me. “Why?”

He explains, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. “I’m thinking of doing something that I shouldn’t.”

“What?”

“I was thinking of entering into a relationship with you.”

“With me? You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“I know your name is Bella Bennett. You’re twenty-one. Up to two weeks ago you were living with your father at 402, Newman Heights, Brooklyn. You left that property and spent some time on the streets before rocking up here a week ago. You have no friends apart from Lily Jefferson, fellow chambermaid. You aren’t on social media. You don’t have a car. Your dream is to run your own hotel one day. Shall I go on?”

“How do you know all that?”

“My job.”

I’m about to respond when my work phone buzzes. I glance at the screen, reading the message quickly. “I need to go back to the hotel.”

“Why?”

“Got to cover a shift at the bar.” I get to my feet. “You’ll have to finish that vat of champagne on your own, Stalky McGee.”

He meets my gaze. “Look, I’m only around for a couple of weeks. After that, it won’t matter whether or not I’ve found what I’m looking for. I’m going to roll the dice here. I want you to submit to me while I’m here. Come talk to me if you want to do it.”

“Submit to you how?”

“Obeying my commands in the bedroom. You’ve got my number, call me if you want to prove you’re no coward.”

The hotel bar is buzzing with activity, the clinking of glasses and the low hum of conversations filling the air. My mind is still spinning from the conversation with Alex. I try to push thoughts of him aside, focusing on the task at hand—cleaning up glasses and serving drinks.

It isn’t long before I feel his presence. I glance up and see him sitting in a dark corner of the bar, watching me intently. I notice he’s brought the bottle of champagne with him. Is that a test? Am I supposed to tell him he can’t bring it into the hotel bar?

He’s just sitting there, not saying anything, his gaze unwavering. I try to ignore him, but it’s impossible. Every time I catch his eye, my heart skips a beat.

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