Page 41 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
“But I think you might need to remember who I am. When you’re speaking to me. Our relationship. I’m the boss.”
I put my hands behind my back so that she can’t see me clenching my fists. Squeezing them so hard my fingernails bite into my palms. Is there seriously any need for this?
“Have you spoken to a doctor?” I say. “Instead of wallowing in your room?”
That’s abigmistake. But the words are out before I can snatch them back.
“Wallowing,” Veronica repeats. “What an interesting way to phrase it.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Is there an alternative meaning to ‘wallow’ I’m not aware of?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Lane.”
When I call her by her surname–something I haven’t done since my job interview–her expression softens. “Forget it. Water under the bridge. Now, please, I need my rest.”
“Seriously, I’m sorry.”
“I said it’s fine, Siena.”
“Let me know if you need anything.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid… who talks to their boss like that?
For the rest of the day, things go surprisingly well. Everything goes according to plan, but I’m not able to relish the minor success, because I keep replaying the conversation with Veronica. Just because I’m doing well, doesn’t mean I can disrespect my employer.
I grab a quick dinner alone, then return to the room… Dario’s room,ourroom. He’s sitting on the couch, reading a paperback book, the sheet nowhere in sight.
“What are you reading?” I ask, wandering over to the couch.
“Blood Meridian,” he replies.
“Heavy. I’ve heard that book is pretty violent.”
“I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”
I’ll break every bone…
“Would you mind if I put the sheet up? I was thinking of getting an early night.”
“Sure. No problem.”
He stands, reaches out for me, and I take a step back. His wounded expression triggers something in me, but I can’t listen to it.
“Friends, remember?”
He smirks, his voice heavy with irony. “That’s right. Friends. Just a couple of good pals. My bad.”
“Where’s the sheet?”
“In the closet.”
I open the closet door, smiling when I see the box of chocolates. I take it out and turn to him. He’s got a boyish grin on his face.
I try to wipe my smile away, but it’s a losing battle.
“How did these get in there?”
