Page 62 of My Mafia King

I thought it would protect her because my father wouldn’t be able to make the connection between my absence and her.

The good it did.

I’ll need to come up with something different in the future.

But still, I don’t want to put her in harm’s way, no matter how much I want to communicate with her directly.

Downcast, I spin around, stride inside, and grab my bag.

I don’t have many spare clothes with me, but even so, I want to get out of my dress and put something on that is more comfortable.

With that thought in mind, I move quickly.

I order food, go to the bathroom, remove my dress and shoes, and shower.

The smell of shampoo fills the large bathroom while condensation drips down the glass booth.

I wash my hair and spend a few minutes blow drying it before digging into the drawers and pulling out a few little things for my face and my body.

Creams and lotions and makeup cleaning oil.

I’ve rarely used stuff like this at home.

When all is said and done, I smell like fresh raspberries, and my hair is warm, heavy, and shiny, sliding over my back.

My knees look bad, though.

No matter how gently I’ve cleaned them with only soap and water, the abrasions are still red and painful.

Someone knocks on the door, so I shrug a plush bathrobe on and dash to the exit.

It’s the woman tasked with checking my legs for cuts.

She quickly notices my knees as I sit on the edge of the bed. They seem redder now after taking the shower.

She asks no questions as she inspects them.

She makes sure I have removed all the dirt before applying a topical antibiotic ointment and covering them with wound dressings.

She gives me extra bandages and a topical ointment and walks out of the room a few moments later, right after the food arrives.

I’ve got everything I ordered.

Macaroni and cheese, a large burger, fries, and apple pie.

I indulge in the baked apples' sweet and sour flavor, staring out the window and completely forgetting about my legs.

It’s a nice place.

And just like that, Las Vegas is no longer the annoying cousin of LA, and it’s more like that good aunt who feeds you well when you stop by her place.

And also has a nice bed for you.

Speaking of a nice bed…

Chewing, I gaze over the king bed, plump pillows, carved headboard, and smooth sheets.

One day, I’ll have a bed just like that.

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