Page 6 of Maid For The Mafia Informant

“Not those!” he suddenly exclaims, leaping up from his chair and snatching a bundle of papers from me.

I look down at my feet, noticing my hands are wringing and trembling too.

“I guess all I can say is I’m putting together a case against some pretty nasty people, Sophie,” he says more gently, looking down at me apologetically.

“I’ll scoop up my papers if you want to start with the rest,” he adds, turning quickly and bending over.

But not before I get to see what he was covering with all those other upside down papers.

I shudder a breath in again, feeling my legs starting to go.

I’ve never kissed a boy, let alone seen a real life-

Needless to say, I think I know a hard cock when I see one. Even through his clothes; and from the small glance I get of it before it’s replaced with his fine ass bending over in front of me, Ben Slade is all man in the downstairs trouser department.

Good God, it’s huge.

My own fantasies suddenly seem inadequate when faced with the real thing, even from under his clothes.

I do my best to focus on starting to clean, noting again just how messy the place is and still not knowing how long I really have to do the job.

Taking a huge empty trash bag, and I quickly scoop up everything I know really is garbage and within half a minute the place looks better already.

I want to ask if they’ve been making Ben eat only take out too, knowing he must eat better than this in his real life, but I bite my tongue, making my way to his bedroom to find more trash.

The other rooms of the suite are a mess, but Ben’s kept his bedroom immaculate, only the double bed turned down on one side, looking like he’s hardly slept in it anyway.

Same for his bathroom, there’s no real mess there either, and I get the distinct impression he’s been working around the clock on his case for days.

The linen press is empty, and I check everywhere I can think of, but it’s useless.

No towels, or no sheets.

What kind of a place is this?

I suddenly feel for Ben, sensing his sophistication and his own habits. I wonder just how he’s holding himself together being cooped up like this.

I can still feel his eyes on me as we both move around the suite. It’s big enough for one person, but it’s certainly not huge. Not the type of place I imagine he’s used to either.

A couple of times I get a start, gasping when I look up and see those dark eyes studying me in a mirror as I move between rooms.

I’m getting nowhere with my cleaning fast, so I decide to start with the bathroom, and work my way back.

There is a mop and bucket in the closet, next to the vacuum cleaner and I set about adding some chemical to it, making sure I keep my head down before making my way back to the bathroom to fill it.

If there was tension when we first met, it’s almost to a fever pitch as I try to fill the bucket using the faucet in the bath.

I turn the faucet and nothing happens, making me wonder if there’s even hot running water in this place.

But before I have a chance, the whole wall next to me groans, shooting a sudden spray of water against the side of the bucket and all over me as I lean over the tub.

Closing my eyes and shrieking from the sudden blast, I somehow manage to shut it off.

But I can feel it all over.

I’m drenched.

As soon as I manage to get it shut off, I realize I’ve made more of a mess than the one I’m supposed to be cleaning.

Hearing Ben’s low growl behind me, I spin around, my eyes filled with water still, but I can see he’s more than happy with my cleaning attempts so far.

“Oh, you’ll do perfectly,” he says to himself, licking his lips as he studies my chest, making me gnaw my lip as I wonder how I can make this right.

Taking a step forward, I skid on the wet floor and land straight in his thick, powerful arms.Chapter FourBenI don’t mean to be hard on her.

I do mean it when I tell her I trust her, but can I really?

Can I trust anyone?

The De Falco family is ruthless, and having them send me a maid that makes me so fucking hard I can’t think straight is something that sounds right up their alley.

I trust her. She’s the one person I’ve ever met who I not only trust on sight, but I feel like I could actually tell her anything.

Everything.

But not yet.

I trust her, but maybe not the sources who brought her to me, not even Partridge. And especially not that district attorney, Daniella Fellini. I know she’s in on the whole thing, been trying to tell Partridge all week.

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