Page 11 of The Mafia Princess

“Oh, I think it’s fine. Will they be bringing in another bed?” she asked.

“No, Lass. I told them it wasn’t needed.”

She gritted her teeth. “So, I’m to sleep on the floor like a dog.”

One of his brows rose, she assumed, because of her tone.

“No. You’ll either sleep on the sofa or on the bed.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“On the bed,” he said.

“But … you can’t … we can’t sleep together.”

“Why not?”

He tilted his head to the side. A move she would have found extremely attractive if not for the fact that she was trying not to freak out.

“It’s just not right.”

“In Malta? Are the rules strict there?” he asked.

She almost choked. For most of the population, it was fine, but for her, she was guarded against any man getting close to her. “My household is very conservative.”

“But you’re not home right now. You’re in America. You can have any freedom you like, Lass.”

She paused. Why had her father let her come without guards? Wasn’t he afraid that some man would take advantage of her? She considered the disguise she had, but it was illogical to think she’d be able to use it for long without something happening.

“I understand that, sir. It’s just how I was raised.”

“You’ll have to loosen up a bit because you live here with me now.”

She felt her spine stiffen, and pain immediately flowered in the ribs from the kick. She automatically pressed her hand against it but dropped it immediately when his gaze zoned in on it.

“For one thing, we don’t live together. You make it sound like … well, you know. I am here to serve you.”

“Yes, you are. I was told you would take care ofallmy needs.”

It took her a moment to understand what he meant, and she could feel her face heat in a fiery blush.

“That’s … you can’t think that I … I’m not a prostitute, sir.” If she didn’t know better, she would have guessed he was teasing her because he was fighting not to laugh. She wanted to yell at him so much it took all her strength to hold back.

She was startled when there was a knock at the door. He turned and opened it, and a maid pushed a cart through.

“Here are some before-dinner snacks. Dinner will be served in two hours. Is there anything else you would like?”

“No, thank you. That’s plenty,” he said.

Aryanna felt saliva pool in her mouth at the sight of fresh fruit and small plates of crackers, cheese, and thinly sliced meat.

She looked up when she realized he was standing and staring at her. God, she wouldn’t be able to watch him eat again without crying.

“I think I’ll go take a shower,” she said and turned to go.

“No. You’ll sit at the table and eat while I apologize.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Apologize? For what?”

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