Page 22 of Mafia Rules

“I thought I had five minutes?” I stammer, wishing I could stop this from happening. There’s no way he won’t want to come in and see how I live. I mean, I would.

“I'm ready to leave, and you work for me, so you're done when I am.” He grabs my jacket and holds it up, waiting for me to slip into it.

“You don’t have to drive me all the way. Parking is ridiculous,” I say, putting my arms in the jacket's sleeves.

“You don’t have a valet?” he asks.

“With what you pay?” I laugh, but he doesn’t. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Are you saying I pay poorly, Ms. Stone?” He looks serious, then smiles. “I just want to see where you stay.”

“It’s not much to see,” I stammer, convinced I can get him to just drop me off.

“It’s where you sleep. I’m sure it’s great.” His hand falls to the small of my back, pushing me toward the door.

The car drive seems to take longer than usual, even though he drives like a race car driver. He adds my address to his GPS, saving it as a favorite. Our conversation is quiet, but the expression on his face shows he’s troubled.

We finally reach Macy’s building, and there’s a parking space practically at the front door. That never happens to me. He parks, gets out, and opens my door for me.

“My lady.” He holds out his elbow for me to take.

I slip my arm in his and pull myself next to his body, which he seems to like, as he leans down and kisses my lips.

We walk to the front door, and I unlock it. “No doorman here.” I hold the door open for him, and he follows me.

“It’s nice, Eve. Not everyone has a doorman.”

I had to come clean. As soon as we get to the apartment, it will be apparent that only one person lives there, and I crash on her couch. “Look, I haven’t talked about my living situation. I don’t actually live here.”

“I don’t understand.” His eyebrows scrunch up in that boyish way—gah, he’s so handsome.

“My friend Macy lives here, and I… well… I sleep on her couch.” I can’t look at him, embarrassed I’m not further along in my life at my age.

“You sleep on her couch?” he says, just as the elevator door opens. There’s a couple inside.

We enter, and I press my floor. We say nothing, and Ash has a look of concern on his face. Maybe he was rethinking all of this. The doors open to my floor, and we step out.

“You can have a place in my building. We have condos. I’ll make one available for you,” Ash says.

“No. I can’t do that.” I grab his hand and drag him along the hallway, not wanting the neighbors to hear our conversation; I wasn’t supposed to be living there. I quickly open the apartment door and drag him in. “Macy?” I call out.

“Alone?” he asks, his hands joined in front of him. His gaze wanders around the small apartment and the mess of blankets on the couch.

“Seems like it. Well, this is it.” I laugh uncomfortably, unsure of where this conversation could go.

“Why are you staying here? Where were you before?”

“With my ex. We split, and I had to move out. Well…” I stop, not wanting to get intothatconversation.

Ash walks further into the apartment and looks into the kitchen. “Where’s all your stuff?”

“Here.” I point to the few bags in the corner. “I didn’t take much.”

His eyes squint, and he’s silent, but I can tell he’s thinking of something, perhaps a better way to say his thoughts. “This is the ex that—”“Yup,” I interrupt him.

The door opens, and Macy flies in with bags in both arms. “Hey, you’re home. You will never believe what I got—” She stops mid-sentence and looks from Ash to me, then back to Ash. “Who’s this?” A look of concern crosses her face.

“Mr. McKenzie. This is Macy.” I nervously twirl my arms together, wanting to hide somewhere.

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