Maid for the Mafia
I Know What I Want

**ROMANY**

"I should have been here," Damien said. "Instead of out fucking around with that..."

*Fucking around with that... what? Is he talking about a woman?* My body tensed on its own accord, like a reflex. As if it was angry *for* me. "Wait. What? Where were you? Were you... with... someone?"

The image of Damien's glorious body bent over some *other* woman while she ran her hands all over his thorns and vines, burned in my chest like fire, nearly bringing tears to my eyes. Did he enjoy her? Did he call out her name? Did he have his hands all over her ass the way he's had his hands on mine? *Stop it, Ro! He just caught you in a reverse piggyback with Mickey. You have no right to be upset!* But, whether I had a right to be or not didn't factor in. It couldn't change the way I felt. I was hurt whether I was entitled to be or not.

*I wonder if he would have even told me about her if he hadn't just walked in on Mickey and me.* I saw the way he was staring at me when he said it. *He* wanted to get a rise out of me. To punish me for Mickey and Alex. He's been so hurtful lately and unnecessarily mean! But this morning when I woke up with my head on his chest and his arm around my shoulders, I thought he was over all that. Apparently he's over quite a few things. I'm probably one of them. *So much for 'connections'.*

"It doesn't matter," he said, his navy blue eyes studying me carefully. "*She* doesn't matter."

*Oh really? Well, she obviously mattered last night!*

*Shake it off, Ro. Fuck him.*

"Oh," I replied, suddenly ready to get back to my suite. "I guess I don't either."

I walked as quickly as I could past him so that he wouldn't see how upset I was. I could feel his eyes on me as I stepped into the long hall and I hoped he was happy with himself. *Fuck off Dreamboat!* Two more steps to the right are all I was able to take before Damien popped out in front of me and threw me over his shoulder, locking one arm around the back of my legs.

"What the hell are you doing?" I shouted, struggling to push myself upright as he began walking toward the service elevators.

His answer was to reach up and smack my ass that was right next to his face. He smacked me so hard I let out a yelp of pain and thought about smacking his ass as well. I was just about to when I felt that same hand of his caressing the spot he just finished abusing.

My head was upside down and my face was against the back of his shirt. I placed my hands on his back to try to push myself up and gain some leverage, but the feel of him under my palms held me hostage. His bicep flexed against my legs with every step and I found myself loving the way it felt. I didn't want to stop touching him and I didn't want *him* to stop touching me.*God his muscles feel nice when they're moving. It's like I can feel every one of them individually. Coiling and flexing and needing to be licked.* My panties were going to be soaked by the time he put me down.

He stepped into the elevator and I watched as he hit the number two. *The second floor? Is he taking me to his room?*

"Where are we going, Damien?" I asked.

This time instead of spanking me, he reached over and slipped his hand between the backs of my thighs, drawing a finger back and forth over my sex. His touch was featherlight, just enough to have me wiggling. Chills sprouted up and down my body and I had to swallow back a moan. The elevator doors opened and he proceeded down the hall, passing a couple of laughing maids along the way. *Now I'm starting to feel a little dumb.* Damien's door was apparently the last one at the end of the largest hallway. *Well of course. It's probably the biggest room on this floor, too.*

Once we were inside, he locked the door then turned around to set me gently on the couch. My head went swimming for a second as all the blood went rushing back down, but after a second or two I was fine.

"Do you want something to drink?" Damien asked me, his eyes still just as vague as they were in the dining room.

"Soda please," I said, glancing around to see that *his* suite was set up like a tiny apartment. It reminded me of Alex's on the third floor, except where Alex had his bar, Damien had a small kitchenette. "Did you decorate in here?" I asked as he returned with a diet soda and a tumbler full of ice.

"Yes," he said, taking a seat next to me on the black leather couch.

I nodded, taking a deep drink of my soda. I hadn't had any in a while and I was suddenly dying for it. The walls of this room were a deep, dark, army green and the decor was completely different than the rest of the mansion. No abstract art at all. There were medals, and framed certificates on one wall, a giant television mounted on another, the third had two open archways that led to hallways, like Alex's suite had, and the fourth held a huge painting of a giant barren tree. The tree was done in black and white, with just a touch of orange shaded into parts of the tree. It was honestly quite pretty.

"Romany," Damien said quietly, taking my glass from me and placing it on the coffee table with his own.

"Yes?" I looked at him, trying to read the dullness in his eyes.

"I..." he started, before releasing a frustrated sigh and starting over. "I want you, Romany."

I chuckled, thinking of the girl he admitted to fucking last night and sook my head. "Oh, do you? You have a funny way of showing it," I said, my anger rising.

"What can I say? You make me into a jealous and possessive asshole. I can't just shrug it off when I hear about you with other men," he admitted. "I *know* what *I* want. it's you who doesn't." *Wrong. I know what I want too. I just want too much.*