Page 3 of Mafia And Maid

“He’s fucking stubborn,” Marco grinds out. “But I’ll convince him.”

“And if you can’t?”

Marco’s head snaps around to glare at me. I casually raise my hands in surrender. He’s a scary man, confident in what he does as capo and protective when it comes to our family, but even I know not to push him like this.

“How long exactly do we have to stay?” I sigh.

“As long as it takes for Davis to realize that this is his best opportunity,” Marco says in a terse tone. “We were cut short before the wedding.”

“Just great,” I mutter, earning me another dark look from my brother.

“We’re here,” Alessio announces as he parks up.

I can do this for another few hours.But even as I tell myself this, my skin prickles, and I itch to feel the wrap along my knuckles. To feel thecanvas bend beneath my fists. I can control that, and I need that control right now.

“Just play nice, Millo,” Marco orders.

I growl a response as we step into the greeting line.

The newlyweds stand at the head, shaking hands, talking, and laughing. Or rather, he does. Because with each step forward, I can’t help but notice the lack of a female voice. And when it finally hits my ears, it’s soft and gentle—almost melodic.

I peer around Marco’s broad shoulders, getting my first real glimpse of the bride without her veil. And she’s just as stunning as I thought she’d be.

The intricate updo allows for a few of her blond waves to fall around her temples, bringing my focus to her full, apple cheeks and gorgeous eyes which are light brown like milk chocolate. Framed by thick lashes and subtle makeup, her gaze sparkles with life and happiness, as does everything else about her.

Alessio shoves me forward, and I snap back to reality.

We move another few inches closer. Closer still. Finally, we reach their side. “Congrats,” I rumble, extending my hand toward the groom first.

His lip curls before he limply shakes my hand, letting go as soon as he can. “Thank you,” he responds.

But I ignore his refined voice and turn my attention to the bride, my hand reaching toward her.

Her soft, pink-painted lips part just slightly as her fingers stretch out to me. But then her eyes widen as she sees my bruised and scarred knuckles, and her hand quickly retracts as her gaze darts downward.

I shouldn’t be surprised after her husband barely tolerated my handshake. I shove my hand back into my pocket as my tongue runs over my teeth in irritation. “Congrats,” I mumble in a flat voice.

Another guest’s cut-glass voice sounds behind me, and I look over my shoulder to see her shaking his hand as a soft thank you escapes her lips.

I see red.Why did he get to touch her? And why the fuck was he worthy of a response from her when I wasn’t? But I already know the answer…

I push through the crowd of guests, ignoring the protests, toward the outdoor area. The Davis family has spared no expense, and just like the church, the reception is gaudy and an eyesore of too many pink flowers. A string quartet plays some boring melody that is more likely to put me to sleep than make me want to celebrate.

I make a beeline for the bar. My hand curves around the beer bottle that the bartender passes to me, and the scars across my knuckles catch my eye.

Of course, she wouldn’t sully herself with someone like me.

I take a swig, watching my brothers corner Conor Davis. It’s the reminder I need as I lean against the bar.

This world on display today, the one of love and happily ever after, isn’t where I belong—because a monster like me always belongs in the shadows…

CHAPTER 1

ROSA

FIVE YEARS LATER

Chopping the vegetables, I watch Ethan from the corner of my eye where he silently colors. And my heart aches.

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