Page 73 of Mafia And Maid

Bringing Ethan into Camillo’s room, I help him with a quick rinse of his hands and face, and then settle with him into the bed. The sheets are clean because I changed them this morning.

As I lay there, stroking Ethan’s forehead as he falls asleep, I look around at the room that I’ve cleaned and tidied so many times. It’s spotless now—very different than how it was the first time I saw it. Camillo still struggles with tidiness, but a daily once-over by me has been keeping the room looking good.

As I stretch out in his huge bed, I feel guilty that Camillo will be in my cramped single bed tonight. He’s huge, and there’s no way he’s going to be comfortable.

I stay awake until I hear Ethan’s breathing even out. And only then can I relax and let myself fall asleep as well.

***

The next morning, I dress Ethan in one of the spare outfits the clinic had given us that Kori packed into the backpack. It’s shabby and a little small, but it’s clean and will do until I can sort something else out.

I open the bedroom door to take Ethan downstairs. But I’m startled to an abrupt halt.

Because our way is blocked.

By a huge, muscled body.

Camillo is on the floor outside the door.

He’s instantly alert, springing to his feet, his gaze darting into the room behind me. “What’s wrong?” he blurts out. “Is everything okay?”

“We’re fine. But did you sleep out here last night?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs at my surprised expression.

“But—”

“I had to make sure that you and Ethan stayed safe,” he says firmly.

I felt bad before when I thought he’d be spending the night in my cramped single bed, but now, I feel awful knowing that he spent the night sleeping on the floor. And I also feel something else—because he did this to keep Ethan and me safe.

“I feel bad that you slept on the floor,” I say softly.

“Make it up to me by making my favorite pancakes for breakfast,” he says in an easy tone, and I can’t stop myself from grinning.

The pancakes and bacon are ready by the time Camillo and his brothers come down to the kitchen and sit around the table.

Ethan only met the men briefly last night. And this morning, he clings to me, his tiny hands grasping the edge of my skirt, his brown eyes big and wide.

I bend down beside him, brushing a strand of his fair hair out of his face. I can feel his grip tighten, his small body pressing closer to mine “It’s okay, honey,” I say softly.

He nods, though I can see the fear lurking in his gaze. He’s only four, and everything about this arrangement is unusual, new, and overwhelming.

“Are you hungry, honey?” I ask, rubbing his back soothingly.

He shrugs, still holding onto me as if letting go might make everything around him disappear.

I pick him up, his little arms wrapping around my neck, and lower him onto the seat next to mine.

He keeps his eyes downcast, his tiny fingers fiddling with the hem of his T-shirt.

“This is Mr. Camillo, Mr. Marco, and Mr. Alessio,” I say as I point to each of the men in turn.

“Mr. Camel?” Ethan murmurs very quietly with a scrunch of his brow. “He’s a camel and has two humps?”

Camillo’s not known for being easygoing, and I’m pretty sure that if anyone else had just called him a camel, he’d be seeing nothing but a mist of red. But hearing the words from this tiny person in front of him just makes his lips tug up in the corners with a grin.

“Yeah, Camillo is a bit hard to say. But my nephews and nieces call me Uncle Millo, so you can call me that as well.”

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