Page 74 of Mafia And Maid

“Oh no,” I say quickly. “He’ll get used to Mr. Camillo with practice—”

“I insist,” Camillo says firmly. Then he jerks his thumb at his brothers. “And you can call them Uncle Marco and Uncle Alessio.” Then, he thinks of something else. “And Rosa, please cut the ‘Mr.’ and sir thing with us all; we’re just Camillo, Marco, and Alessio from now on.”

My eyebrows shoot up, but his brothers simply nod in agreement.

“Do you like pancakes?” Camillo continues.

But Ethan doesn’t say anything and instead huddles into my side.

I give an apologetic look to Camillo.

Camillo’s brow furrows as he outright ignores the food on his plate—a complete first for him. I can tell he’s trying to think of a way to break the ice with Ethan.

“Here comes Mr. F,” he announces, giving his best attempt at a friendly smile. But for some reason, it comes out more like a grimace—and makes him look a little scary. And Ethan must think the same because he buries his face into the sleeve of my shirt.

But Camillo’s not one to give up easily. “He’s a Chow Chow dog,” he says, gesturing to the huge dog who’s approaching. “And he might look like a grizzly bear, but he doesn’t eat people—the only thing he eats is everyone else’s food which, by the way, he’s always stealing.”

Ethan’s gaze widens in panic, and he clutches at my arm.

“It’s okay, honey,” I reassure him. “The dog is friendly and won’t hurt you.”

But Ethan won’t be comforted, and he spends the whole meal clinging to me and refusing to eat.

“Camillo,” Marco barks, startling not only me but also Ethan. “Let’s go. We’ve got stuff to handle at the casino.”

“Now?” Camillo says.

A silent exchange between them happens, and Camillo’s posture changes instantly. He nods at his brother before turning back to me. “We’ll be back before dinner, Rosa. Our men have got the whole estate guarded and monitored. No one can get in or out without us knowing. You’re safe here. But if you need me—for whatever reason—just call my cell.”

I nod at him, grateful for everything he’s doing.

“See you later, Ethan,” he says more gently.

And I can’t help noticing the hurt that flickers over Camillo’s face when he doesn’t get a response from Ethan. I try to explain. “It will just take Ethan a little time to get used to being here.”

After breakfast, I bring Ethan through the house with me as I clean. As I tackle the kitchen first, he sits at the counter, legs swinging. “Here, honey. Momma has to do some cleaning and housework, so I need you to be on your best behavior for me, okay?” I hand him some paper and a pen for him to draw with.

Ethan spares me a small tentative smile. And throughout the day, I don’t dare move away from his line of sight, instead taking him with me from room to room as I work.

In the late afternoon, I’m back in the kitchen and preparing dinner. My knot of anxiety and worry loosens, and something inside me melts, seeing Ethan here with me.

I heard the men return a couple of hours ago. They must be working in the office or be down in the gym because they haven’t come into the kitchen. No doubt they’ll wander in once they start feeling hungry.

I find myself sitting at the counter beside him as I chop vegetables, just soaking up that he’s here with me again. My lips press to his forehead before I turn back to my job. I refuse to let the Marchianos think that my son is a distraction. If they did, they might send us packing.

Ethan’s tiny hands keep touching my arm, as if he’s making sure that I’m still there next to him. My heart aches when I think of how much he must have missed me when I had to leave him with Kori.

A while later, my thoughts are interrupted. “Rosa?” Just the sound of my name from Camillo’s lips makes my heart gallop in my chest. It’s like it’s something decadent and forbidden. I shouldn’t like it as much as I do. But for someone so intimidating, he’s onlyever shown me kindness and gentleness. “Smells great,” he says as he and Marco enter the kitchen. “Can you take a second? I need you upstairs.”

“Yes, of course.” Wiping my hands on my apron, I look at Ethan, but seeing him there, I’m unable to move my body away from him.

“He’ll be fine. I’ll stay in here with him to make sure,” Marco says.

As comforting as Marco’s offer should be, I still find myself hesitating. He wouldn’t hurt my son. I know that deep down. But after everything that’s happened, I worry each time I let Ethan out of my sight, fear sinking its icy claws into me.

Ethan’s body goes rigid, and I swallow hard. The wide, fearful expression on his face keeps me rooted in place.

“It’ll only take a few minutes,” Camillo assures me. “Ethan can come too, actually.”

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