Page 411 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

There is an enormous soaking tub in one corner of the room, sleek mirrors hung over the ‘his and hers’ sinks, and rich, dark wood cabinets that pop against all of the white. A modern crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling with matching wall sconces on either side of the room.

It is the most gorgeous bathroom I’ve ever had the pleasure of showering in.

And speaking of the shower…it has jets…on every wall.

That’s a lot of shower power.

I turn on the spray and look around for toiletries in the drawers and closets. I find toothbrushes, toothpaste, disposable razors, deodorant, shower caps, and a whole assortment of other things that I can’t get to back in the bedroom because I don’t want to wake Aisling.

I quickly brush my teeth and pull on a shower cap before stepping under the hot spray. I stand there for a few minutes, just letting the water run over me. My eyes are squeezed shut and I don’t move a bit, letting the heat relax my tense muscles. My senses are enveloped in the steam which smells like lavender…how?

My God, this au pair life, for as long as it lasts, is going to be a hell of a lot more luxurious than my own personal reality.

I can definitely deal with dirty diapers and spit up and screaming babies for a week in these digs.

I finally drag myself out of the shower after indulging in a host of L’Occitane shower products to the point where I am hella pruney.

But I haven’t felt this relaxed and loose in a long time, even with the knowledge that I am pretty much on my own flying blind right now.

I guess it’s good when the noose loosens a little bit.

You can actually breathe easy since there isn’t a toxic haze hovering in the air around you.

I towel off with a thick, fluffy bath sheet and wrap it around me, cursing myself for not bringing in a change of clothes. Now I’m going to have to drag one of my bags out into the hallway because I’m certain the rustling sounds will wake Aisling. I slather myself with rich-scented moisturizer and pull a brush through my hair before grabbing one of Heaven’s perfume bottles and dousing myself with it.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, running a finger over the five-pointed star on my left breast. I wasn’t careful about hiding it at Tatiana and Dante’s mouth was definitely feasting on my boob. I can’t let him see it now. The secrecy combined with the symbol of my mafia life would not be a good thing for him to discover. I got lucky last night when my dress was hanging off my body and he didn’t spot it. I can’t take that chance again. I rummage in one of the drawers and pull out a small Band-Aid. The tattoo is small and perfectly concealed once I place the adhesive over it.

I let out a deep, shuddering breath.

It doesn’t seem possible that only twenty-four hours ago I was plunging a knife into the throat of Vigo Kosolov, and now I’m in charge of a tiny baby on the opposite side of the country.

But here I am.

Still starving, by the way.

I grab the baby monitor and shut off the bathroom light before I head back into my bedroom. I hold the towel tight around myself and pick up one of my bags, hoping it’s the one that has my pajamas in it.

I make it into the hallway and let out the breath I’d been holding. You can hear a pin drop, it’s so quiet. Instead of unzipping the bag right outside of my door, I carry it to the front of the apartment, as far away from her as possible and dig around my things. Dante must have turned off the lights because the only shred of light illuminating the place is courtesy of the Strip below.

My fingers close around a pair of flimsy pajamas and I grab them, dropping the towel and pulling them on quickly. I take a deep breath, the scent of food still lingering in the air.

I rub my belly. “Easy, girl,” I whisper. “Let’s see if we can find any leftovers for you.”

I place the monitor on the kitchen island and open the refrigerator door, peering inside when a heavy feeling comes over me. My pulse throbs inexplicably and a chill slithers down my spine.

Someone’s eyes are on me.

I slowly close the refrigerator and take a tentative step backward.

Have I been compromised?

What if my uncle really was taken? Tortured? Killed?

Would he have given me up?

Was this whole thing a setup?

My mind is going a mile a minute with all of the possible scenarios…

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