Page 107 of My Mafia King

I shower, wash my hair, blow-dry my hair, curl my hair, and pull on a dress similar to the one I wore last night.

It takes me five minutes to put on my makeup. Lipstick, eyeliner, and mascara.

My cheeks are naturally flushed from the effort.

Moments later, I slide my heels on and walk out of the room. By the time I reach the living room, the place is empty.

Shit.

Have I messed it up already?

It would really help to have a phone and communicate with my boss.

I head to the door.

“Where are you going?” a voice thunders behind me.

I spin around, my hair moving down my back.

“Oh. You’re here,” I say, and then I stop, thunderstruck.

He wears a three-piece gray suit, a white shirt, and black tie and shoes. He has a metallic watch around his wrist and a silver or platinum ring on his right hand.

“What happened?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

“You seem spooked.”

“I’m not spooked.”

He pushes his gaze down, taking inventory of my dress and shoes. I remember how he moved his fingers over the same parts of my body he’s scanning now, and I tense up.

I don’t know if he can tell.

“Did you have breakfast?” he asks, pulling me out of my head.

“I don’t eat breakfast.”

“Perfect. That makes two of us. Let’s go. I need to take care of some business.”

My ears perk up, and I’m eager to ask a question.

Before I can open my mouth, he wags his finger at me.

“Remember what I said last night,” he says, and I clamp up before I talk again.

“I didn’t want to say anything.”

“Keep it that way.”

With that, I shut my mouth and follow him out of the room.

He wasn’t joking when he said I would become his shadow.

I am his secretary, event planner, office manager, delivery person, and communications specialist.

I’m far from being good at any of these and wing it most of the time, but I’m learning fast.

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