Page 116 of My Mafia King

He shifts his eyes to me.

“Go with him.”

I want to ask him if he’ll come upstairs shortly.

If I’m supposed to wait for him or fear for my life.

Whatever the scenarios, they stay tucked in the folds of my brain while I mechanically rise out of my seat and, moments later, follow Vito out of the room.

* * *

CARMINA

Normally,I should be happy that I’ve left the casino and headed to my room, but that’s not the case.

We reach Damaso’s suite, and Vito doesn’t follow me inside.

It’s reassuring that the floor has so much security.

There are armed men and secured doors, and the area is inaccessible from the outside. And for added security, several other exits could be used in case of an emergency.

I enter the place and look around.

Normally, I’d also be ecstatic that it’s cold inside and smells like him––masculinity and freshness––and a good night's sleep is in the cards for me.

Normally, I wouldn’t spend a second thinking about what could happen downstairs.

I’d go to the bathroom, take off my clothes, spend some time in the tub, eat and drink something satisfying, and go to sleep.

But ‘normally’ had left my life a while ago.

Nothing is normal these days, the least of which is how I spend my nights. And as much as I would love to give in to the idea that I’m safe with a two-million-dollar necklace around my neck and a vast space at my disposition, I’m actually a nervous wreck.

I don’t even dare to unfasten the necklace.

The piece has played a role in sending a strong message that I’m important to Damaso Salla and no one is to mess with what’s important to the boss.

But that’s not what I’m concerned with right now.

My mind spins crazy thoughts about what might take place downstairs. About guns being drawn and people getting killed.

I saw how Salla looked at Boris.

He would’ve slashed his throat open if his disappearance didn’t create a headache for Damaso.

Maybe Boris is a necessary evil, a part of some crooked deal that may or may not make sense but comes with rules they both need to abide by.

Whatever the circumstances, Damaso had a good reason to send me upstairs.

A sigh falls from my lips as I stare into the space in front of me and contemplate my life.

The emptiness of the place gets to me as I struggle to unwind and not care about these men.

Especially Damaso.

But, I don’t go to sleep––I can’t––and wait for him regardless, wearing the dress and necklace he wanted me to wear, all anxious and frazzled.

Eventually, I stroll to my room and go through every step I need to go through to make myself feel a little better.

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