Page 68 of My Mafia King

“All right,” he says, appearing to be set on walking out when I speak again.

“Are you working?” I ask.

He swings his gaze to me.

“Are you working now?” I ask, suspecting that he is.

He could also be on his way to a different hotel room where he might fuck someone.

I don’t know what makes me think I’m an expert in reading Damaso Salla’s expressions.

I guess trying to avoid dangerous situations with my father has sharpened my perception.

It's a survival mechanism, I suspect. Trying to stay alive and telling the bad guys from the good guys.

I’m not an expert, but I rely on my budding intuition.

He doesn’t answer.

Or maybe he’s looking for an answer.

“Would you mind staying with me a little longer?” I ask in a wavering voice. “I have a hard time falling asleep.”

And that’s the truth.

These past twenty-four hours have been a rollercoaster. A race for survival. I’ve been up, and I’ve been down.

I thought I could fall asleep and rest, but now I’m back to being on high alert. And I’m more alert than I’ve ever been.

And truth be told, I want to sleep, not toss and turn the entire night. Him staying with me a little longer might ease my anxiety. That’s all I need. A tiny break.

Someone with me in the room.

Someone who doesn’t ignore me or assault me.

Who would’ve thought he might be that person?

“Just sit with me for a few more moments,” I say, pushing to my feet and rolling the covers to the side so I can tuck myself in.

I get in bed without waiting for his answer or removing my bathrobe.

My head hits the pillow while he looks at the chairs in the room.

Eventually, he removes his jacket, drapes it over the back of a chair, and lies beside me in bed.

Unlike me, he lies on top of the covers.

His shoulders meet the headboard while a pillow offers his back some support.

He sits upright and undoes another button at the top of his neckline before propping his head against the headboard and closing his eyes as if wanting to unwind.

I stare at him for a few moments, still mesmerized by how handsome he is and what an unlike friendship we have struck.

If we can call it that.

It’s more like an alliance.

Not even that.

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