Page 7 of Pregnant By the Mafia Boss

I push the reception door open, and the cold stench of damp hits me.

There’s a guy behind the counter, munching something as gray as his skin. It’s some kind of meat, but beyond that, I can’t say. Roadkill raccoon?

“Hi,” I say, fixing a smile on my face. “We were looking for a room for the night.”

“We’re full,” he replies, taking a bite and chewing with his mouth open.

“But we need a room. I can pay.”

I reach for my purse and then realize I haven’t got my handbag. I left it back at the center.

Shit, that means I have no phone either.

“We?” The guy licks his lips, smearing grease around his mouth. “You seeing things, doll? There’s only one of you, and you’re deaf. We’re full. Get lost.”

The door opens behind me. Salvatore’s rumbling voice sends a shudder down my spine.

“Gregory,” he says as he reaches the counter. “You didn’t see us tonight.”

Gregory fumbles, dropping his snack with a wet plop. “Of course, Mr. Valentino. If I’d known it was you coming, I would have prepared a room.”

“We’ll take the one at the end.”

“There’s a guest in there already.”

Salvatore stares at Gregory, and the man seems to shrink beneath his gaze. No words are exchanged, but the meaning is clear.

“I’ll move him at once. Just give me two minutes.” Gregory leaps out from behind the counter, sprinting like the hounds of hell are after him.

Once he’s gone, Salvatore turns to face me.

“We’re sharing,” he says.

“Are we now?” I fold my arms. “What if I want a room of my own?”

“Too dangerous. My job is to keep you safe. Antonio’s orders. You’re lucky his wife is your best friend. You’re getting the full weight of the Valentino family behind you.”

“There was me thinking you were doing this out of the goodness of your heart.”

“Haven’t got one. Come on.”

He shoves the door open, walking out and through the parking lot to the steel staircase at the end.

Gregory is already there, remonstrating with a man in striped pajamas.

“But I paid for the room,” the man is saying, rubbing his bald head. “I don’t understand.”

Gregory picks up the man’s luggage. “Well, it’s…I mean to say…”

“Rats,” Salvatore says. He thrusts a wad of notes into the bald man’s hand. “Here. By way of compensation.”

“I never heard a thing in the room,” the man says. “Shouldn’t they make a noise?” He glances at Salvatore, shrinking back from him. “Are you the exterminator?”

“Yes,” Salvatore replies. “I’ve disposed of a lot of vermin in my time, so you could say I’m an expert.”

He catches my eye, and despite the absurdity of the situation, I have to suppress a giggle. “The biggest rats are the quietest, you know,” I add.

That’s enough for the bald man, and he takes his leave, Gregory scuttling behind him. I follow Salvatore up the stairs to the room.

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