Maid for the Mafia by Jaylee

The Playroom

F*ROMANY**

Dinner is interesting. For the very first tsince arriving here, Simone has been invited to dine with us.

Apparently this is her last night here. Tomorrow she'll be heading to Mickey's with Bruno. That fact is more than a

little depressing, but in light of the fact that I intend to disappear tomorrow at midnight, maybe it's for the best. |

know that I asked a favor of her and she promisedshe'd do it, but | can't hold her to it anymore. | refuse to

stand in the way of anyone's happiness. Besides, if | *do* end up *missing* I'm sure she'll hear about it. Even

from two hours away.

She catches my eye and the two of us share a smile that is equal parts sadness and joy. She blowsa kiss and

| blow her one back, but I ignore Bruno altogether because his face still makeswant to scrunch up my nose.

*| know one thing, Pinch better treat her right.*

"Good to see you smiling again, doll," Mickey comments, his eyes glinting with relief.

Damien and Alex are both still in with the doctor, so I'm seated in Alex's chair, with Tiny to my left and Mickey to

my right. According to Mickey, Alex needed x-rays and Damien is sleeping off whatever he was given during

surgery. *And yes, the surgery was apparently performed somewhere in this house.*

Crazy fucking mobsters, | swear. It figures that Alex DeMarco would have an urgent care in his fucking basement.

*ust. Wow.*

* wonder if I'll still get to see the mysterious Playroom tonight.*

Just that thought is enough to pullback in time. To that day that | shared myself with both Tiny and Mickey.

*Fuck, that was hot.* Biting my lip, my eyes wander over the pair of them. Two men, usually so in-sync, that

suddenly seem much like strangers.

"Alright," | mumble, slicing into a healthy piece of deep fried duck breast. "What gives? The two of you are acting

like someone died."

Mickey pats the corner of his mouth with a napkin then sits back with a smile. "Somebody *did*," he chirps with

a grin and | notice Tiny stiff en just the tiniest bit at his words. "Two *somebodys* to be exact." *Really?*

"Shit, I'm sorry," | say, reaching for Mickey's leg under the table and giving it a squeeze.

Mickey's eyes immediately flare, his pupils stretching dark as he reaches down to secure my palm along the

muscles of his thigh. | intake a shuddering breath as his thumb strokes across the back of my hand. "Nothing to

be sorry about, doll. They were meant to die from the moment they met me." His eyes shoot across the table to

Tiny's, glaring daggers at him. "The problem is one of them *never* did."

Shockingly enough, Tiny doesn't back down. His normally obedient demeanor seems to have evolved in an

almost reckless defiance. He shrugs. "I'm not the one that killed him."

Mickey laughs and | feel his muscles flex in anger beneath my hand. Something tellsthe *only* reason Tiny is

still *breathing* is because Mickey knows it would upsetif he hurt him. In the back of the mind I'm pleased

by this and | wonder how far this new superpower of mine extends.

*Why not test it out?*

"You shouldn't disrespect him," | snap at Tiny. "He's your boss, isn't he?" | have to swallow back my laughter

when every pair of eyes at the table widens with shock then lasers my way.

What stunsthe most is the apologetic look Tiny sends Mickey's immediately after. "She's right. My bad Mick.

In my defense, my intention was never to disrespect you. My motivations were-"

"I know *exactly* what your motivations were. Do you think-"

"Hey!" | say sharply, my eyes slicing toward Mickey and cutting him in half with my gaze. | lean toward Mickey at

the st| reach under the table and stroke my opposite hand up Tiny's bulging adductor muscles just

below his hip. "There's no need to talk down to him like that," | scold, with a slow bat of my lashes.

Mickey smirks at me, leaning back as if to say, *Well played'.* Mickey's eyes twinkle, his hungry gaze falling all

around my face just as | feel Tiny's hand close around my own and give it a squeeze.

Mickey's chin tips up, his pupils stretching wide. "Yes Boss," Mickey teases, with a lick of his lips.

My core clenches and my body floods with the strangest sensation of primal power. Removing my hands from

both of their grips, | continue to eat my dinner. | can't let either of them turninto Alex, no matter how badly |

want to stroke my fingers deeper into their laps. | *won't* turn this into a threesat the dining table. | refuse.

So | study them both for a moment. "It won't do for the two of you to be angry with one another. If that's the way

it's going to be, I'd just as soon leave. | care about you both equally. There are no favorites."

*#Truth? Or a lie?* I'm not even really sure. All | know is if | had to choose between the four of them *today* |

wouldn't have a clue which one I'd pick.

Mickey is a force of nature and his obsession withis so much of a turn on, I don't think I could live the rest of

my days without it.

Alex speaks to everything dark and forbidden inside of me. Makingfeel things that | *never* knew | could

and want. Things that | *never* thought I'd enjoy.

Tiny is the opposite of that. Slightly shy and vulnerable, but strong and ruthless at the stime. Gorgeous, too.

Damien's is *determined* to have me. Determined to *love*in a way that | never expected to find *here* in

this... place.

There's so much I love about each of them, separately, why choose?

"There is *one* favorite," Mickey says pointedly, grantinga sidelong smile. "And she seems to have figured

out *exactly* who's in power here."

With a haughty little smile, I cut into my duck. "Tellabout the Playroom."

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