Maid for the Mafia
Around a Dark Corner

**ROMANY**

It's strange, really. That moment when you start to realize who you *might be* as opposed to who you *thought* you were. I'll tell you one thing, anyone who says that they know *exactly* who they are is either ridiculously ignorant, or they are lying. Because in a world full of different experiences and diverse pleasures, how can you truly know what you do or don't enjoy unless you attempt to find out? *How* do you know you would jump inside of a burning building to save a dog or a small child? How do you *know* you would turn in a bag full of cash if you found it in the street? You don't know! You can't know! Unless you're given the opportunity to make such a choice, then you will *never* know.

So, it seems, who we are as a person stems from a collection of choices that we've made throughout our lives.

Take *me* for instance. I was a virgin all the way up to my first year of college. *Not* because I was saving myself for marriage, but more or less because I never got asked out once. Not ever. Girls in my high school were getting pressured into sex left and right, *everywhere* I looked, but not me, I wasn't. Ruby used to say it was because the boys were all too scared of me. She reasoned that it was due to the fact that I was too beautiful and no one was brave enough to approach me. I never believed her, but I was grateful for the lie.

Then came college and Professor Jensen and that one ill-fated encounter with him in the hall that changed everything for me. A normal girl, one who'd been on dates before, or had at least a little experience with men, probably would have seen the red flags coming from a mile away. A worldy female wouldn't have fallen so easily for his trap. Now that I'm thinking about it, maybe it was my relationship with Matthew that conditioned me into accepting abusive behavior as an occurance, instead of the crime that it was. It took me well over a year to figure out how to obtain *my* pleasure when Matthew was fucking me. Usually, there was a high amount of concentration involved. Matthew simply *had* to be someone else or I *could not get off.* Matthew was handsome, everyone in school knew that, but he was an extremely selfish lover/abuser/whatever he was. Sometimes I'm afraid that I'll end up looking for the same thing in someone else. Because, despite that I loathe Alex, I can't deny that I still want to fuck him.

And what Alex let those men do to me that night was unacceptable.

*Well Alex is not here, dummy. So stop thinking about him!*

We rode toward the city and into the heart of Eastside proper, Simone and I were huddled together in the backseat, Mickey was in the front next to Pinch, and Tiny filled up the single seat right in front of me. The elegant houses we passed on our way out of the Borderlands had me holding my breath. They were all *so different* yet *so beautiful*, that they must have been designed and built separately from each other.

*I wonder if the Borderlands is made up entirely of rich people. It must be, if all of the homes are this completely unique.*

I huffed a breath and turned my face front just in time to catch Tiny staring at me in the reflection of the blacked out window. After flashing him my brightest smile, I turned away. Ever since I put on this dress he has been watching me, and I'm not used to such attention coming from him. It wasn't unwelcomed, on the contrary, he was *definitely* making me sweat, but he's closer to my age than Mickey or Alex is and that fact makes me a little nervous. For one thing, he's got the kind of baby face that would have put him on the map in college. If he'd been one of me instead of one of them - a criminal or a gangster - then I probably would have had a die hard crush on him from the very beginning. Seeing him in that outfit tonight, formal, yet careless in the way he flaunts his ink, made me want to disappear with him around a dark corner and see how dangerous his dick can be.

Of course, this is not the first time Tiny has had my attention. That day that Enzo almost shot me and Tiny sprang into action plays on repeat in my head almost every single night. The way that he moved... so effortless and with such strength and power, Enzo *never* saw it coming. At that moment, I wanted him so badly that I could've filled a tub with molten honey, but I didn't know him that well. I didn't know if he had a girlfriend or a *boyfriend*, or even if he found me attractive. But I knew he was Mickey's guy so, like a sex deprived slut, I propositioned Mickey, hoping to find out. I didn't think Tiny had agreed to it, because it hadn't happened.

*Until tonight. Tonight it will happen.*

With a bite of my lip and a blush burning my cheek, I turned back toward the front again. There he was, still watching me in the reflection of the window. I couldn't read his eyes, but his mouth turned up in a barely perceptible smile, and he bit his bottom lip as he adjusted the front of his slacks. Then he seemed to shake himself, releasing a slow breath and closing his eyes briefly, before opening them again to stare at my cleavage in the window. *Had he just been fantasizing about me? Is that why he looks so ruffled?* God, I hoped that he was. My breath shuddered as our eyes stayed locked on one another, and I couldn't have looked away if I wanted to. As the corded muscles in his neck shifted my eyes caught on them, and I wanted more than anything to reach forward and trail my nails over their lines. But I knew better. Even though Mickey agreed to this thing with the three of us, any individual attention I give Tiny might cause him to change his mind. Besides, I'm not brave enough to try it, anyway.

"Do you think Bruno has a girlfriend?" Simone whispered, keeping her voice so I literally had to piece her question together.

*Bruno? Seriously? Does she like Pinch? Bleh, blah, ew, gross.* But... people are strange sometimes. She's short, he's short - I mean, I'm short too, but she's *short* short.

I tear my eyes away from Tiny's to stare at her in disbelief. It is my *personal* opinion that he looks like a miniature bulldog and Simone, like a sweet Spanish beauty, but who am I to judge? Looks aren't everything. Right? Right. "For some reason I doubt it," I said with a straight face. "In fact I'd bet money that he's probably single."

She squealed. *Squealed?!?!? Barf!* Okay... I mean... maybe she sees something in him that I simply do not see. Or, maybe she has x-ray vision and he's hung like a moose, who knows. If she's happy, I'm happy.

Patting her knee reassuringly, I noticed that we pulled up a gorgeous stone driveway and stopped behind a small line of fancy cars. Four valets converge on the Tahoe, each of them opening one door and helping us out. "Good evening, Mister Scavo, your table is waiting," one of them says.

The five of us pass through a golden entrance with the words **Bella Bambola'* across the top of it. As Simone and I try our best to act like we're not in complete awe of the place, I almost miss the way everyone is staring at us, only noticing when I spy a face among the tables that I never thought I'd ever have to see again.

The man's eyes are on me, I can see him in the corner of my vision. His gaze crawls over my body slowly, making me feel like there are insects climbing up my back. Suddenly he curses, and then points me out to a few of the men at his table. *Shit, shit, shit.* My chest began to tighten and I tried to shake off the feeling of his stare.

"What's the matter?" Tiny whispered, his hand going straight to my back protectively. His warm calloused fingers stroked up and down my spine comfortingly. "Tell me what's wrong? Who did you see?" My head jerks up, as he stops me in the middle of the dining room to lift my chin in his hand when I don't answer. "Tell me."

"That man... he..." I trailed off, swallowing the lump in my throat to glance to my right and stare at the fat devil from *that* night with utter hatred.

Tiny followed my eye line, stiffening when his gaze landed on the one person he recognized. His entire body tensed with anger. "Fuck," he cursed. "Paul fucking Romano."