Page 20 of Mafia Captor

I’m so tired from the whirlwind adventure, I’m going to fall asleep right here. I set an alarm on my phone, not wanting to be late for work. Getting up, getting dressed, grabbing my morning coffee, and heading into Tess’s predictable office tomorrow morning is exactly what I need.

The sun wakes me Monday morning, filtering through the blinds. My eyes blink open as I stretch, smiling about how rested I feel, how good the warm sun feels on my—wait. The sun? I always, always wake up before sunrise on a workday. What’s going on? I grab my phone to check the time.

It’s dead. It must have died in the night. My alarm didn’t go off.

“Oh my gosh. What time is it?” I run to the kitchen to check the clock on the oven.

I have fifteen minutes to be dressed and to the Village.

I’m never going to make it. I’m going to be late. I’ve never, ever been late for a day of work in my life. It’s only my second week of work. Will this affect Tess’s impression of me?

My stomach flips and flops as I rush over to plug my phone into the charger. It comes to life, dinging with messages that I don’t have time to read. I see the alert at the top of my screen, letting me know my driver is waiting for me at the curb.

Thank God I showered last night. The clean bra and panties I slept in will have to do. I rush through the apartment, pulling an easy to put on red cotton dress over my head. My hair dried overnight in the towel. It’s a tangled mess. There’s no time to straighten it. I go with a high, slightly un-messy bun. A pair of dangly earrings and slip-on red sandals and I’m ready to go. I toss my glam bag in my purse as I run out the door. I’ll do my makeup in the car. One of the many perks of having your own driver. I go to lock my door. “Shoot! Forgot Mr. Robert’s protein bar.” I rush back into the house, grab one of the bars from the cupboard—chocolate chip, he’s not tried that one yet—and finally, I’m closing the door and locking it.

Mr. Robert waits for me by the door of the car, offering me a smile just as he does every morning. Apparently, he was supposed to retire this year, but refused. When Tess brought it up, he told her, “I’m working till I can’t work no more.”

I greet him with a kiss on the cheek. “Good morning Mr. Robert!”

“Miss Ashely.” He checks his watch. “You’re late today. You’re never late.”

“Missed my alarm.” I dive into my purse, pulling out the bar. “Chocolate chip. Twenty grams of your daily protein.” It’s also packed with vitamins. If I can’t get him to eat a salad, this is the best I can do.

“Aww, you spoil me, lady. I’ll be sure to have it with my coffee on my break.”

I settle into the plush back seat of the car. My first day of work he noticed me applying lip gloss on our drive. The next morning I found he’d attached a mirror to the back of the passenger seat headrest for me to do my makeup. I pull out my quilted cloth bag and get to work. Can’t do anything about the hair so I go heavy on the eyeshadow, mascara, and lipstick.

Red dress, red sandals, cherry red lips. I’m feeling as confident as I can considering I’m walking into work late for the first time ever. Today only starts my second week of working for Tess. I hope she understands.

We pull up to the brown and black gates that hide the Village from the rest of the city. I feel proud to be invited as a guest into this pristine world, hidden behind the stately brownstone buildings that line the street. The grassy common area greets us. Couples sit at café tables sipping their morning coffees. Neat rows of well-maintained townhomes house the families that have the privilege of living here.

We pass by the homes, their doors painted and porches decorated to reflect the personalities of the owners. There’s a little schoolhouse, modeled after something you’d see onLittle House on the Prairie. I feel a tingle of excitement as we pass the three-story brick building that houses the family’s rooftop bar—their favored space for outdoor events and my next big project. Tess and I are planning a total overhaul of the place and I can’t wait to get to work.

The tall steel and glass building comes into view. I thank Mr. Robert as I step out into the warm morning sun. Even though I’m late, I can’t pass up the opportunity to pause, staring up at the beautiful architecture. The shining silver words on the sign bring pride to my heart. Bachman Enterprises. Very few non-family members ever make it into the Village, much less the family’s headquarters.

I thank the doorman as I step into the breezeway. The scent of perfectly roasted coffee beans hits me as I pass the coffee bar. Every single morning I order a cappuccino from Sophie, the friendly young woman with the purple glasses who works behind the counter. It’s one of the many little highlights of my day. The sound of the whirring machine tries to lure me in but I just don’t have time.

I hold back a sigh as I pass the counter, caffeine-free.

A voice calls out to stop me. “Miss Ashely? Miss Ashely?”

“Yes?” I turn to find Sophie, wiping her hands on the front of her green apron.

“Hold on.” She goes to the order pickup end of the counter, lifting a white paper cup. “Your coffee.”

“Oh! You made me one?”

“Medium vanilla cappuccino, sprinkle of cinnamon.” She gives a shrug. “You ordered one the same time every day last week. I figured you were just running a little late today and I may as well have it ready for you.”

“Thank you!” I take the cup from her hand. She’s written my name on the sleeve in black marker.Ashe. Makes me think ofhim. “Really, thank you so much.”

I can’t stop smiling as I walk away. From the memory of him or her kind gesture? I’m not sure. Maybe both. I take a long sip, reveling in the warm vanilla and cinnamon.

I can’t wait to get to Tess’s office. Today, we’re discussing eco-friendly flooring that can hold up to the elements for the bar. I found a porcelain clay that might work. I’m excited to show her.

I take the stairs even though I’m rushing. I’m wearing flats and can use the exercise. A well-dressed man passes me with a nod, heading downstairs. His cologne pricks at my nose—woodsy and similar to the one Boston was wearing. Thoughts of that evening hit me, hard, right between the tops of my thighs.

I erase his memory from my mind. Goodbye, Boston. You were my first, and only, one-night stand.

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