Page 29 of Mafia King: Matteo
I fire her a quick text to keep her updated and tell her my guard’s name is Dima. I know him. He’s in the family, so to speak. Izzy wishes me luck and types Stay safe.
A woman enters the waiting room I’ve been relegated to. She introduces herself as Doris. She’s here to collect me and leads me to an interview room. Then, I sit in a blue plastic chair like the ones found in a school. She asks me about my degree and experience as she types, and she’s all business. When she asks about job references, I’m ready with a reply.
“I haven’t been working because my future was up in the air until recently,” I state. My hands are folded on my lap, and my ankles are crossed and tucked under the chair.
She pushes the large-rimmed glasses up her nose. She’s wearing a matching plaid wool suit, and her silver hair is coiffed perfectly atop her head. She’s so striking that I look at her longer than what would be considered polite.
“Your records appear to be in order. Do you have ID with you?”
“Yes, why? Is something wrong?”
“No, in fact, we’re short on staffing, and we need you to start tomorrow,” she says, typing into her computer.
I’m speechless.
“Is that too soon?” she asks when I don’t respond.
“Oh. No, that’s fine,” I reply.
“Your driver’s license, please.”
“Oh, right.” I pull my purse to my lap and, with apprehension, dig into my wallet before I hand it to her.
“You will have full medical and dental insurance after thirty days. You have two weeks of vacation after a year. I can give you the salary as posted.”
“That’s fine.” The money is extra income for me, as Dad gives me an allowance.
I spend time answering questions, signing forms, and am given an address for the Palazzo Romano Hotel. It’s downtown. I don’t remember it, but considering the fact that I secured a job, it is reassuring. The address makes it real. I push the paperwork she gave me into my purse. It’s information on the company’s website and a list of benefits. Everything is so impersonal today. I’m impressed the interview wasn’t a Zoom call.
When Doris finishes the process, she stands, putting her hand out.
I mimic her as it must be my cue to leave. I take her outstretched hand in mine as we shake like a business deal has been concluded. She gives me a quick smile.
I guess, in a way, it is a business arrangement. She congratulates me and walks me to the front door.
By the time I reach the street, I recognize the SUV that stopped in front of me as one in my dad’s fleet. Dima has the window down so I can see him. He’s here to collect me. I am stunned to see him, but that’s on me. I forgot my life changed last night when I asked Kirill for help.
Dima is doing his job. I forgot he was tailing me this morning. I’m perplexed by the interview as I found it too perfect. There was no drug test, and I expected it to take months to be vetted. It’s as if Doris was expecting me.
Dima makes casual conversation and asks where I need to go. I tell him home. He complains about the traffic the entire drive. I swear the man uses his horn more than the gas pedal. Finally, he rolls up to my building’s parking garage.
“I’ll be down here checking things out. Just text me if you’re going anywhere. I’ll drive you.”
“Thank you, Dima,” I say as he pulls up to the secure door to the building.
There is no cell phone reception in the elevator. Before walking to my condo, I check the hallway to see if anyone is in it. I’m suddenly overwhelmed by recent events. I have a job. I have responsibilities. My days are no longer my own.
I drop my purse on the counter and look up the hotel on my phone. Indigo Holdings owns the hotel. The address is in the city. It’s a nondescript name. There are no details available regarding the ownership of this company. It has to be legit if they are renting out floors inside buildings. A design company hired me to work on the hotel project. With my luck, the place is owned by some asshole with lots of money.
I have no clue if the hotel is privately owned, so I decide it doesn’t matter.
I am employed. I might be the first mob daughter ever to work a day in her life.
I text Izzy. She must be busy as she doesn’t respond.
I’m relieved Dima is downstairs. I don’t want Mr. Grey to know where I live. A shiver runs up my spine.
What if he already knows?
