Maid for the Mafia by Jaylee

Bella Bambola

F*ROMANY**

| could still feel that asshole, Romano, watchingwhen the waiter cto take our orders. Glancing around, |

realized that Simone and Pinch were nowhere to be found and Tiny was MIA as well. ¥*Where the hell did they go?

* With a shrug, | went ahead and ordered the Cioppino and a fattening bow! of tuxedo mousse for dessert, then

watched as Mickey whispered into the waiter's ear for five whole minutes.

When he was finally done talking and the waiter disappeared, | asked, "Where are Simone and Pinch?" | cursed,

"Damn it! | meant, Bruno. Where did they go?"

"I had the manager escort them to a special, much more private, table," Mickey explained. "They looked like they

needed one."

Nodding, | faced his way, scouring the restaurant for Tiny in my peripheral. Even though Mickey pretends to be

unconcerned, | have noticed him becoming increasingly jealous. Just the way he looked ata few minutes

ago, *before* he learned that Paul Romano was only a few tables away, was alarming. There was anger *blazing*

in his eyes and his face puckered with discontent when he glared at me. When he shifted his attention from me

to Tiny, | honestly thought he might explode. But Tiny was quick in diverting him, knowing exactly what to say to

deflect Mickey's anger.

"You said... Pinch. Don't act like you didn't," Mickey accused and my eyebrows shot up like spines on a porcupine.

I leaned forward eagerly, resting my chin on my hands as | waited for whatever nonsense he would spit next. "He

must be new, no? Who the fuck is he? This *Pinch*?" He rolled his eyes, lifting his chin toward the bar in the

center of the dining room. "Wait, don't tell me! It must be one of the hot waiters, or the bartender."

| sat back slowly, a ball of anger twisting in my gut as he shook his head incredulously. "No," | snapped, wringing

the cloth napkin between my hands instead reaching across the table to twist his neck. *Boy oh boy, he is losing

it. Fucking paranoid.* "That's my nfor Bruno when he's not around. Pinch."

Mickey stiffened, a tumbler of whiskey frozen about an inch away from his lips. Eyes darting back and forth, he

looks atoddly. "What? Why?" Then he continued to drink.

| shrugged, taking a sip of my water. "He remindsof a miniature bulldog. His face... it's all jammed in the

middle... all soured up. Pinched."

A shower of whiskey sprays across the table with my remark and Mickey is choking to death in the seat next to

me.

"Oh my God!" | squealed, scooting closer to him and pounding on his back to help him regain control.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," he insisted, clearing his throat and taking a deep drink from his water glass before turning

back to me. A gleeful, barely contained chuckle sputtered from his lips as he smiled at- like *proper* smiled -

for the *first* tin days. "Pinch, huh?" he repeated, testing to the nas he glanced toward the darker,

more romantic, section with a jovial smirk turning his lips.

"Finally," | whispered, granting him a smirk of my own. "You gavea *real* smile."

His eyebrows drew together as he considered me. Then, with a sly grin stretching across his face, he snickered

again, burying his face in his hands as his body shook with mirth. "I've got to buy a miniature bulldog now," he

informed me. "And | have to nit Pinch."

| chortled, laughter bubbling from my lips as | realized what an awesidea that was. "Promise me," | giggled.

"Promise that you'll do that!"

"I will," he assured me. His vibrant green gaze warmed as sof his recent tension disappeared. The lines of

worry vanished from his face. "Do you know how long this restaurant has been open?" he askedsuddenly.

| shook my head, tossing him a sarcastic smile. "Oh yeah, sure. Of course. | chere all the time," | joked.

He grinned, reaching out to trace the tiny netted holes over my bosom and making my body hum with energy.

"Three and a half years," he stated. "And do you know what, *Bella Bambola* means?"

| shook my head, shivering with pleasure as his fingers circled over one nipple and then down over my ribs.

"It means," he sighed, his eyes shuttering as his palm flattened over my thigh, stroking toward my sex on the

outside of the dress, "Beautiful Doll."

*#Doll? Is that why he picked this place for dinner? Because of the name.* "It's pretty," | hissed with a shudder,

parting my legs just barely for Mickey as he pressed his fingers over my coin covered slit and began to circle and

plunge rhythmically. "It most definitely is," he agreed. "From what | understand, the owner named it after a

woman he spied on the street one day. And although he had never met. She was so beautiful, and so doll-like...

so *innocent*, that he was afraid he'd break her if he tried to get close. So, instead, "he whispered, scooting

closer to me. "He began to obsess over her."

Heat barreled over me, my hips jerking as his touch becmore and more focused. | didn't even give a damn

that we were in the middle of a dining room. My eyes closed and | began to wiggle in my seat, my orgasm

hovering overlike a feather tracing over skin. If he didn't give it tosoon | was probably going to cause a

scene.

"But everyone knew," he whispered, punching two fingers through the netted holes and beneath my bikini

bottoms underneath. | moaned, desperately, my hips bucking upward. "Everybody knew how insane she was

making him. How *dangerous* his fascination for her was becoming." | whimpered, as my pussy began to clench

and juice, and my hip began to gyrate in small, wild circles. "So he stopped talking about her to them. And

pretended not to stalk her late at night. Soon, they began to believe he was over it." Mickey suddenly ripped his

fingers out of my dress and away from me. "Fuck. Dill," he whispered.

| whined, opening my eyes in frustration. "Why did you stop! Why?"

He smirked, leaning in close. "I don't have tto explain why yet, but Paul's heading this way."

"What?" | growled, ready to stab him in his fat pot belly.

"No, doll. Listen tocarefully. I'm going to need you to pretend you're happy to see him, okay?"

"Are you blown?" | snapped. "Or high?"

"Just trustbaby doll, please, please, just do it for me. Here he comes!"

| released a shallow breath and Mickey smiled and nodded to someone standing behind my chair. My body

wound up as tight as a bow string and | worked to relax my features. At first, | didn't think | could do it, but then

Tiny dropped into the seat on my left and his shoes slipped under my feet like a footrest.

"Romano," Mickey greeted him and | swear his smile looked so genuine, my head began to spin.

"Scavo! It's always a pleasure dropping into my favorite restaurant," Romano's scratchy, raspy, overweight voice

sounded behind my head. " Great food, all the best girls," he commented and suddenly his pudgy hands were on

me, massaging my shoulders. | grit my teeth and glared daggers at Mickey, who didn't break character for even

a moment. "How are *you* doing tonight, gorgeous?" he asked, sliding his hands over my shoulders to stroke all

the way down over my nipples. | was just about to lose it, when his ugly pockmarked face leaned in next to my

ear and he kissed my face. "I'm ready for *you* baby. I'm heading upstairs now," he cooed.

My eyes went straight for Alex, ice and despair filling my heart as it broke. *This is why he's been so upset. He's

not jealous.*

*He's guilty. Because he's been planning to selltoo.*

# ust like Alex.*

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