Maid to the mafia: totally alluring

CHAPTER 1

ONE NIGHT OF PLEASURE.....OR NOT

I looked at his bed in awe. I couldn’t help myself but rub my cheek onto that soft pillow again. It had his scent. He’d slept here last night. Alone, or with another woman? One of his mistresses, maybe?

How many did he have? One, two? For a rich and powerful mafia man like him, two was never enough. His ego was too large, his status too high to quench his thirst.

Somehow, a little pain etched my heart at the image of him tumbling with two women in bed. I wasn’t sure why I should feel this way. I was nothing to him. I was not one of his women. I was only here because I had to be, not because I wanted to. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and stared at my own reflection.

Plain Jane. That was what I was. Boring brown hair. Boring green eyes. That was what Pa had always said, the plain daughter. I touched my cheeks and counted the freckles there. I sighed. There were too many to count. It looked awful, like I’d spent too much time in the sun.

The door behind me squeaked open. I froze upon seeing the image of him in the mirror, too, his eyes boring straight into me. He was freshly out of the shower, his body drenched in water droplets. He only had a small towel around his waist. His black hair was all wet, like the night sky outside. Giovanni was beautiful, a colossal being, like Adonis, the statue. He was simply captivating, and totally alluring.

Did he know he’d stolen my heart, just like he’d stolen millions of other girls’ heart on that show? My maiden heart was his and his alone. But could I be his? Could I be his Jennifer, the one he was looking for? I stole a glance over my shoulder at his half naked body. And gulped much needed air to quench my thirsty lungs. My stupid heart had to impulsively do that silly dance again when I caught his stare. His eyes bored into mine, hot black lava gushing out of those irises. I swallowed, turning back to the task at hand, reminding myself that this was the only task I should be doing tonight. Which was to hang his shirt, wash his sheets, clean his bedroom, and make his coffee.

In essence, I was his maid, his twenty-four-hour live-in maid, which he could call up anytime for his pleasure. Pleasure for his taste buds that was, and nothing more. Oh, but I wanted to do so much more. I wanted to run my fingers along his broad chest, to feel his heart drumming against my fingertips.

I wanted to kiss those lips that were always set in a grim line, or kiss away that frown that was on his forehead whenever he thought too much. My hand itched at the delicious prospect.

“Jay, dry my hair,” he demanded, walking toward me and perching himself on the edge of the bed. Upon hearing his demand, I stumbled toward him with a big, fluffy towel in hand, acting like I was his obedient lover. He flopped his head forward, his hair in a thousand and one directions. I wrung his wet hair dry, slowly massaging his skull with my fingers, slowly relieving him of today’s stress. I knew he liked that. I’d done this to him so many times before.

But tonight, something seemed different. I was conscious of the proximity between us, his fingers lingering at the curvature of my hips, his chest pressed against my breasts. My whole body tingled as I looked into his deep, alluring midnight eyes.

“Jay,” he caressed my name. His voice was like a drug, luring me into him. I gulped, feeling my body tingling hot.
“Kiss me.” He pulled me closer, his lips coming nearer to mine. I could feel myself sinking under his spell. Suddenly, he tossed me onto his bed, and now he was on top of me, his fingers tracing my lips. I could feel all of him pressing into me. His hard chest, his strong muscular legs, and his erection.

“Jay,” he rumbled again. “Kiss me.”
“Gio.” My voice ripped through me, an odd crescendo in my chest. My palm went to trace his cleanly shaven jaw.