Maid for the Mafia

**ROMANY**

A message on my phone broke me out of my trance. My head shot up as I turned away from the balcony windows, my eyes narrowing on the phone in my lap. Ruby-

Hope you had a good night, little cousin. I can't really talk right now, but I wanted to check in with you and make sure everything is going well.

Me-

I slept fine. Breakfast was good until Stella and DeMarco came along and it turned into a freak show.

Ruby-

Stella? You can handle her. Trust me when I say she's exactly what she looks like. But DeMarco. What did he do? Did he touch you? Because he knows that I'll kill him. Me-

Nope. No, no. DeMarco can handle her and I mean that quite literally. He definitely did not touch me and if he ever does I hope that it is not with his left hand. Ruby-

What? What the hell does that mean?

Me-

It's no wonder Stella stands the way she does. She takes five to the snatch every morning like it's a motherfucken supplement. And she does it so well that I wanna make her a little sign that reads 'Administer one whole fist daily - under the table - with a bowl of grapefruit and a full glass of juice.

Ruby-

No. No way. Noooo lololol

Me-

At the table, Ru. WHILE I ATE. What kind of backwater out in the bluegrass bullshit is that? It was the weirdest fucking thing I'd ever seen. I felt like I'd just been electrocuted. I couldn't even speak. Ruby-

Hahahhahaha

Me-

I don't think I can even look at them again. I mean WTF

Ruby-

Hahahahahahahahaha. No way. Hahahaha. I have to go, but if it happens again tomorrow, I want video.

Me-

If it happens again tomorrow, I'm flipping the damn table. Love you. Be safe.

Ruby- Always.

It was nearly five o'clock and I still hadn't heard from Alex since breakfast. On one hand, I was entirely grateful for that, but on the other hand, I still had a few questions I needed answers to. So, I was going to have to go downstairs and find him before the dinner meeting. I *did not* want to screw this up. I mean, the rules were pretty basic... at least I thought they were. Only answer to Alex, only listen to Alex, ignore everyone else in the room, except for - you guessed it - Alex. Never repeat what is heard in the meetings, never pray, never stroke the janitor on a Wednesday... I got all that, received it and accepted it. But... how was I to *serve* plates of food to people that I'm not *allowed* to *acknowledge*? I mean - I guess the answer is as simple as it seems. Just serve them. Do not engage with them. But me being me? I would rather be sure. So, with a final huff of frustration, I set out to find Alex's room.

The third floor consisted of three branching hallways. My room was at the very end of the longest one. Betting that the massive balcony that can be seen from the front of the house was connected to the master suite, I headed in that direction. After only a few feet, it veered diagonally to the left and stopped a huge set of double doors.

*Oh yeah. This has to be the one.*

Before I could even tap my knuckles on the gleaming white wood, the door opened. Alex stood there in a pair of dark dress slacks and an open white shirt. His eyes heated when they saw me, glowing just a little more green as he glared in annoyance. "Yes?"

I chewed on my lip, not wanting to explore the reason for his obviously hostile mood. "I just have a couple of questions," I began, twirling my hair nervously as I spoke. "You said I am to serve your guests, correct?" No response. Dead gaze.

I nodded. "So I'm guessing that means that I pass the food out to everyone, then simply get out."

His brow furrowed. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against the doorframe. "No. You get out only when I tell you too. When you are finished serving, you will stand to the right of my chair and see to my every whim. You will refill my drinks, you will light my cigars, you will wipe my fucking chin if I need you to. And the moment when *I* am finished eating, you will clear everybody's dishes, then leave quickly, only to return quickly, and once again stand at my side. You are *my* maid. Is that clear enough?"

I squinted, holding one finger up. "What if your guests need refills? Do I-"

He shot off the doorframe like he'd been burned and charged me until I hit the wall at my back. "You do not," he hissed, the vivid emeralds of his eyes catching on the silver streak in my hair. "You do only as I ask you to. If I want you to replenish their cups, I will ask it of you. If I wish them to die of thirst while they watch me drown myself in wine, you will let them die." He was panting now, his eyes searching my face with an almost worried expression. "Why did you leave breakfast so early?" he asked.

My stomach roiled, the weirdness of the morning coming back with a vengeance as I clamped my eyes shut to force the absolute awkwardness of the moment away. "I was done eating," I said shortly.

He chuckled. "Were you? Are you sure that was it? Could you have maybe been... jealous?"

Now I looked at him. My gaze as wide open and boring as Stella's legs. "Not in a million years," I said truthfully, before pushing off the wall to walk back toward my room. I could feel that he was still watching me, so I added, "More like disgusted or... repulsed. Good thing I have a strong stomach," I said, tossing him a wink over my shoulder. Then, as I turned the corner, "See you at dinner. Make sure to wash your hands."