Page 152 of Mafia And Maid

His sigh fills the vast area, and I take my leave without another word. My body thrums with adrenaline and emotions I don’t know what to do with. My already battered fist connects with the sheet metal on the outside of the warehouse as a curse flies from my lips.

My phone pings.

Quickly, I scan the text. My body wilts against the wall, and the anger bubbling through my veins cools with a single picture. Ethan. He’s wearing the extra black T-shirt we packed earlier in case he got his clothes dirty, staring back at me with Rosa’s shy smile behind him. The caption makes my heart stop:Dressing like Uncle Millo.

A slow smile creeps across my face as I save it to my phone. The goodnight text lights up my screen, and my chest turns into a vise.

I want to believe that it’s only for a few days. But some part of me knows that’s wishful thinking. And that voice grows louder and louder until all I can think is that she’s slipped right through my fingers. I don’t belong in her world. I don’t deserve someone like her—and it’s clear I’m not the only one who thinks so. I saw the looks everyone was giving me. I saw the talons of her sister’s hand digging into Rosa’s shoulder and the disapproval etched into her sour expression.

Would she disapprove even more if she knew what really was going on between me and her Rosa? Would she turn her nose up if she knew what Grayden had done—and would do again—to her sister?

My hands tighten on the steering wheel further as I zigzag recklessly through traffic to the estate. I haven’t been back since Rosa and I left this morning. I ignore the soft conversation coming from the kitchen.

“Camillo?”

I pause on the first step of the staircase at Marco’s voice. “I’m tired.”

“Look—”

And I know from his tone that an interrogation is coming my way. I love my brothers dearly. I appreciate them having my back, but right now, sticking their noses where they don’t belong is the last thing I want to deal with.

I don’t give him a chance to say what he wants to, jogging up the stairs and into my room. The door slamming behind me echoes in the stillness. The flowery scent that clings to her fills my lungs when I take a deep inhale. It stings and soothes all at once.

The man who stares back at me from the mirror is a familiar stranger I haven’t seen in months. My hair falls in loose waves from the knot at the crown of my head. A fresh bruise decorates my jaw, and there’s blood all along my collar and neck. Eyes wild and hands clenched, the man before me is every bit of the monster I wish I wasn’t.

“Fuck!” My voice comes out as a roar.

My knuckles slam into the mirror. And I spin on my heel, disregarding the pieces that clink to the ground.

The knock at my door isn’t surprising. But I don’t answer. Ripping the shirt from my body, I crumple it up into the corner and head to the bathroom.

Another louder pound on the door keeps me from starting the shower I so desperatelywant.

“What?” I growl, yanking it open.

Cate and Juliana stand before my door. Cate’s hand is raised to pound on the wood again. They blink, and my tongue runs along my teeth. I’m going to get a fucking earful for waking the kids, but I can’t bring myself to care. “Is Rosa okay?” Juliana asks.

“Fine.”

“Are she and Ethan hungry? We saved food,” Cate adds.

“No. They’re not here.”

Both women stare at me, and I swallow. I don’t like that look. “What?” I ask slowly, very aware that my knuckles are dripping onto the dark wood floor and the mirror behind me is in a cracked mess. What’s seven years of bad luck when I’m already living a nightmare?

“Nothing. We’ll let you clean up,” Juliana says, steering Cate away with her. Their hushed whispers don’t carry as they make their way back down the hall.

My door clicks shut, and I sink to the ground. I drag a hand down my tired face, feeling all the pent-up emotions slink out of me, leaving me utterly deflated.

My phone pings again. But something tells me it’s not Rosa. And yet the hope that flares within me is the only thing that gets my ass off the floor to check. But the hope that’s flickered to life withers into ash in seconds. It’s a simple confirmation that the job is done and Alessio is on his way back home. Tossing my phone to the bed, I move into the bathroom. Each movement is tight and controlled.

By the time I’ve showered, exhaustion pulls at my body, and I flop onto my bed to sink into the bliss of oblivion.

***

“You’ll tell them if they need anything to call?” Juliana says.

“Yes.”

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