Maid for the Mafia
I'll start a tab...

**ROMANY**

As I huddled there in the corner, Alex's words kept replaying in my head. Over and over as the man outside counted down.

*"...no matter what anyone says, *you DO NOT open this door..."*

"...twenty-one, twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen..."

Time was running out as I sat there, suddely wondering what the man meant when he said *"...we will blast it open..."* Were they going to *blow it up?* Or... shoot it out? *What the hell does blast it open mean?*

Despite all that, there was *one* thing he said that was crystal clear and not at all hard to understand. He *said* that I would be placed under arrest. *God Ruby, what have you gotten me into?*

I mean, he couldn't *really* do that, right? I've done nothing wrong by just refusing to open the door! I mean - what if I were asleep? And couldn't *heed* his warning? Would he still arrest me? Would I still go to jail? *If* I do go... will Alex get me out? Or will Alex be in jail too?

"...ten, nine, eight, seven.."

*I have to open it! Alex will just have to forgive me, or punish me, or whatever the fuck he wants to do to me. I cannot go to jail! I'm not a crimainal!*

I stood quickly and raced for the door, stopping to take a deep breath before I placed my fingers on the dead bolt.

*"...no matter what anyone says, *you DO NOT open this door..."*

*Fuck!* I was panting, nerly hyperventilating. Sweat was dripping off my brow and down the sides of my face. "...five, four, three..."

I had my hand on the bolt and was about to turn it. The man outside stopped counting, seeming to sense me unlocking it... and then... I just... didn't. I didn't want to. I was angry that I was even made to sweat in this office under the threat of explosives.

"Fuck you!" I hissed at the door, and then I leapt to the far left and scrambled toward the heavy desk to hide under it.

A frustrated growl sounded outside the door and then I heard, "...two, one..."

I closed my eyes. **ALEX**

Standing in the front hall, next to a joke of a detective, with an entire circus of clowns running around my house, was having a profound effect on my temper. I could have been balls deep in the sweetest part of heaven by now, but no. Instead I am forced to watch these animals as they stumble head over foot in search of something they are *never* going to find. It was becoming rather tiresome.

I rolled my eyes as Detective Morris eyed me in my present state. He was glaring, his beady little eyes shifting around anxiously as I read over the warrant in my hands. The act only confirmed for me that there was something on this flimsy piece of paper trash that I would find useful. Something in the wording, or directive... something he *did not* want me to catch onto.

"I know what you're really doing here," I commented as I read it. "I know who really sent you."

"Good luck proving it."

I laughed, "That's the difference between you and I, isn't it? *You* only act on proof, and I only act when you least expect it. You can tell Santos that I said that, if you like. In fact, please do."

"Do you mind telling me what the fuck took you so long to come out of that room?" Morris asked, eyeing my unkempt appearance with all the jealousy of a virgin schoolboy.

I smiled as I answered, "I absolutely *do* mind telling you. Because it's none of your goddamned business what I was doing."

He laughed nervously, leaning forward a bit as he whispered, "Not to worry. I'll find out soon enough."

"I doubt it," I replied. Then, "I was taking sexy pictures of myself for my Only Fans page."

He snorted, "Yeah right. I'll never understand what women see in the likes of you."

"Now that," I agreed, "Is probably the most intelligent thing you've ever said to me. Because what it is they see in me, they will *never* see in you. Because you just don't possess anything worth looking at." "I get my share of pussy," he countered with a scowl.

I grinned, looking away from my reading only long enough to stare down the five foot four male, before I said, "What a depressing little share that must be."

Damien and Mickey stood just beyond him against the wall, along with most of the servants, Stella, Enzo, and two of Mickey's guys. Damien and Mickey both eyed me with open trepidation when I first exited my office. Just the fury in their eyes alone put two extra inches on my dick. I wasn't going to *tell* them what I'd been doing, not the way they did with me. But God did I want to.

"Samuels," Morris called out suddenly.

I glanced around, eager to see what little game he was going for next. A taller, sturdier, slightly more attractive version of Morris came marching into the hall from the rooms on the west side. "Sir," Samuels answered, openly glaring at me.

"I want that door open. Make it happen for me," Morris growled, before sending a smirk my way and bounding toward my office door.

I sneered at them, following behind them carefully while still holding the warrant. I leaned against the wall, shaking my head at them as they pounded on the door and threatened Romany inside. When they started counting, I smiled to myself. She wasn't going to do it. I made myself very clear before I left the room. But in hindsight, I began to realize that I should have shown her the trapdoor and told her where it went. I just wasn't *really* sure if I could trust her with the knowledge yet. Damien knows about it. As does Mickey and even Ruby. But... other than myself, that would be all who knew.

Samuels was the one counting, he had his big gun drawn, ready to shoot out the hinges and the locks. Never mind that they were titanium steel, and the door had a fortified center made of the same stuff. But of course, *he* didn't know that and I *certainly* wasn't going to tell him. However, there was about a two inch perimeter around each side of fortified metal, that was simply wood and would be susceptible to his gunfire. *They still wouldn't* get in... but the bullets *might* get through. And if Romany was standing anywhere near where she was when I left her... she might get hurt.

The sudden anger that ricocheted through me at that thought was shocking. The image of her beautiful, perfect flesh, being torn through by hot lead, had me seeing fire.

"You better hope to bloody hell that you don't hurt her when you try that," I warned with a growl. "Because if you do - if her *ears* so much as *ring* - I will make certain that you get to know me on a much more personal level... Samuels. And I mean we *are* going to get *intimate*."

"I knew it," Morris chuckled next to me, throwing me a wink. "Not to worry, DeMarco. When we take the girl in, I'll give her my... extra... special... attention."

A small noise behind the door sounded. An almost scrape. As if Romany was standing there and she was going to unlock the door. My jaw tightened. *Damn it. Don't open it.*

Samuel paused in his counting, Morris began to preen like a fucking peacock, and I took one final gander at the warrant.

*There... right there...* I began to chuckle, my eyes flashing as Samuels stood back and his fellow swine took cover.

"Your time is up! We're coming in!" Samuels shouted, taking aim.

"STOP!" I declared, causing Samuels to stutter in his movements and glare my way.

"Do not listen to him Samuels! What the fuck are you doing? I WANT in that room!" Morris fumed.

"Samuels," I crooned happily, walking toward him while waving the warrant in my hand. "You damn well better listen to me, if you want to keep your job."

"What? What are you saying?" Samuels snapped, confused.

My eyes had to be glowing, at least I hoped they were. "This warrant specifically states that you and your flock have authorization to search *only* the living and common spaces of the attached dwelling. Dwelling, meaning the house, and *only* the house. Not the pool, nor the grounds, just the fucking house. Then of course, there is 'Attached', meaning the house only in its original structure*, as it was when I bought it, six fucking years ago. Prohibiting you from stepping even one foot on any portion of my property that I had added or built myself. Living and common *does not* include the garage, which by the way, is considered a *detached* portion of the dwelling, and God help me - you pigs should know this shit because it *is your fucking job to,* so for your sake I hope you haven't been in it." I smiled again, then went to stand in front of my office door, putting myself between the gun and the woman inside. "You may go now. Because the warrant also states that any damage that you unlawfully cause to said dwelling will result in reimbursement by the state. And I'll give you"-I paused to do a head count-"thirty guesses as to what that will mean for your jobs when I file my restitution claim."

When they simply stared at me, I rolled my eyes, reached over toward a display shelf and snatched one of my ornamental vases in my hands. "This is a five thousand dollar piece of shit vase that I bought in Italy about three years ago. I've always wanted it replaced," I informed them, lifting it for all to see before smashing in on the ground. "You pigs really should be more careful. Just look at that, would you? I'll start a tab."

"That fucking room is part of the dwelling," Morris argued, his eyes starting to bulge.

"Is it?" I said quietly. "I'd check if I were you. Because I seem to recall having it built specifically for reasons your little pig brain would never understand. I had it designed, fortified, structured, and strategically placed, right in this very spot. It took the good half of a year to complete. So, no sir, according to *that* warrant, the one in your hands, this space falls under the classification of a detached structure. *Not* part of the dwelling... at... all. So if you want in this room, you had better go get yourself another warrant."