Page 1 of Married to the Mafia

one

Fuck Mondays

Brandi waited until the last possible second to flip on her blinker, thankful that the odd time of day meant traffic in the area was light. Her gaze flicked again to the rearview mirror, then quickly out to the side mirrors as she turned the car into the parking lot she needed.

A breath of mixed frustration and relief rushed from her when the mid-sized SUV she was sure was following her zoomed past.

Asshole. She didn’t know who owned, or was known to drive, the SUV. She only knew that she’d seen it around nearly everywhere she went for over a week. She’d never seen anyone climb out or ducking in. It was just there, parked nearby or coasting slightly behind her in traffic. Everywhere. But whoever it was never got close enough for her to see inside, so she wasn’t even sure what her apparent stalker looked like.

Though she certainly had a theory as to how she’d ended up with one, and the thought was enough to piss her off all on its own.

Brandi pulled into the closest available parking space a little too abruptly and killed the engine. This was not the time to be thinking about things she couldn’t do anything about. Particularly not things that would only get her in trouble if her bad mood got called out. She tugged the keys from the ignition, dropped them in her purse, and took a deep breath. Forget the asshole, Brandi. You are a strong, capable woman. And you have work to do.

She pulled the tray of coffee she’d managed not to spill from the passenger seat, beeped her car locked, and fast-walked into the building. Winter had fully melted away and the summer heat was building with its usual too-fast pace. Barely eleven in the morning, barely the second week of June, and it was already too warm for sleeves.

Thank goodness she didn’t still need to wear long sleeves all the time.

“One of those for me, Brandi?” a colleague called as she walked into his line-of-sight. She wasn’t entirely sure it was the coffee he was eyeing, but she chose to pretend for both their sakes.

“You had your chance, Tony,” she replied without breaking stride. She was only one woman, she couldn’t bring back coffee for the whole damn office. The fact that she’d agreed to bring it for anyone was a kindness she only showed because it was expected of the entire staff. Today was just her day.

Behind her already, Tony made an exaggerated sound of disappointment.

She continued on her way, striding through the front space and into the elevator. She barely had time to reshoulder her laden-down purse before arriving on the third floor, where she stepped out again and made her way to the back offices. Most of the heads she passed spared her no glances, as the sparse top floor workers were generally more prone to tunnel vision.

Most of them also questioned Brandi’s placement among them. It wasn’t a secret, though it had been a good three weeks since any dissatisfaction had last been mentioned to her directly. She didn’t typically let it get to her, as her work spoke for itself.

Her new stalker was starting to rattle her, though. She could feel it.

“Ah, my Goddess of Caffeinated Salvation,” Norberto declared, drawing her attention. “Tell me they weren’t out of my caramel.”

Brandi lifted her lips in a smile, stopped, and pulled the front left cup from its spot. “One far too sweet, extra caramelly coffee concoction, per your specifications.” She handed it over with the label facing out so he could see that it was at least written up the way he’d wanted. If the barista had made it wrong, she couldn’t fix that.

Norberto, whom most of the staff called Berto, grinned and immediately popped the lid off in order to draw in a deep lungful. “Bless you, goddess.”

Brandi rolled her eyes. “You don’t even sound like you need the boost. I bet you could sell that for twice what it cost.”

“Never. I’m completely faking right now.” He winked at her, dropped the lid into the garbage pail beneath his desk, and promptly twisted back toward his elongated monitor. “Mm, so good,” he mumbled as he took his first sip.

Brandi shook her head and continued past his desk, over to the younger man who technically shared her office space. Granted, one could fit a living room in between their stations, so it wasn’t like they crowded each other. “Miguel,” she said as she neared. “I’ve got your mint mocha.” She pulled the next front drink free and held it out.

Twenty-one-year-old Miguel glanced up from his screen, gaze dropping straight to the cup. “Awesome. Fuck Mondays, I swear.” He took the cup and immediately tipped it back as if it were a shot.

Brandi couldn’t help the pinching of her brow. “You okay?”

“Oh yeah. Just putting out someone else’s fire.” He shrugged. “Nothin’ I haven’t gotten used to. Thanks for the coffee.”

Fair, I guess. She knew there was more going on at the office than she was officially privy to at any given time, and that meant it was better not to pry too deeply. So if Miguel wasn’t offering information—a rarity for him, the boy could run his mouth with the best of them—then she wasn’t going to push harder.

Instead, Brandi adjusted course and continued into the back office. The door was ajar, which meant no private meeting was in process, so she let herself in. “I brought coffee,” she said as soon as she was sure her boss wasn’t on the phone.

Michele De Salvo—who had fired two different people for using his formal name, as he preferred Mike or Mikey—pushed his office chair to the side enough that he could lean around his veritable wall of monitors to see her approach. His dark brows arched over his bright blue eyes. “You finish that checkup?”

Right, actual work. Brandi carefully pried his cup from the holder and set it on the coaster on his desk, then set about releasing her own drink. “Yes, sir. There was nothing actually wrong with the system. The manager at the establishment had tried clicking on something that wasn’t meant to be altered, and in his attempt to set it back, he made it worse.”

Mikey scoffed and sipped at his coffee. “I take it you got the system back in order?”

Brandi nodded. “Only took a couple minutes.” She allowed herself a moment to gently swirl her iced beverage. “The line at the café took longer.”

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