Maid for the Mafia
Policy

**ROMANY**

"Wake up, baby... somebody needs your attention."

I'm ripped from the confines of an exceptionally pleasing dream by a voice that not only stirs my core and heats its center, but stokes its fire as well. Even though my clit is now thrumming with anticipation and hungering with the promise of a morning orgasm, I refuse to get up. I like my sleep and for some reason my bed is so much comfier this morning.

"Nuh-uh," I croak with a juvenile shake of my head. My body is *way* too satisfied, and relaxed, so it refuses to come to life just yet. I just won't do it.

"Come on, do you have any idea what it's like to wake up with you pressed up against me? Your sweet ass in my hands and your nipples stabbing into my chest? It's torture. Now you wake up or you're going to regret it." *Damien. That's who that is. A shame that I wasn't sure who he was until just now.*

"No," I whisper, snuggling deeper into the heat of Damien's embrace. "And if you move me at all, I will hate you for the rest of my life."

"Ahhh," Damien coos, with a chuckle before he pulls me further into his embrace. "It's almost time for breakfast and I know how much you love to eat. If you don't get up soon the only thing you'll get before lunchtime is what's waiting between my legs."

*Shit. He's right. I hate to miss breakfast.*

"What time is it?" I mumble, dragging my knee up over his muscular thigh until I reach the base of his erection. His body tightens in response, every muscle contracting seductively. Smiling wickedly with my eyes still closed, I straighten my leg and stretch it across him with a moan, murmuring in my half sleep daze, pretending I'm falling back to sleep and not at all turned on. The thick steel of his shaft is hot beneath the weight of my leg, so I stroke a bit higher until it begins to pulsate and twitch.

Damien hisses, bucking upward as his hands curl into my flesh, his grip tightening over the back of my ass and the side of my hip. "Oh baby," he rasps. "It's eight in the morning and if you don't fucking ride me right now I'm going to have to pay a visit to the secretary."

My eyes pop open.

*What the fuck did this idiot say?*

Damien's room remains dark thanks to the large blackout shades hanging over his windows, but the screensaver backdrop on his flatscreen t.v. emits just enough light to illuminate the space around us. The digital clock displays that it's five after eight in the morning. That only gives me about fifteen minutes to teach him a lesson, but it will have to do.

Keeping my eyes focused on the opposite wall and off of Damien's beautiful body, I stretch as if I'm getting ready to give him exactly what he asked for. I push my ass out and against his hand, my breasts harder into his chest, rotate my neck a bit, and when I hear him groan as his dick swells impossibly thick against my leg - I pop up and turn it. My right knee goes into his balls, pressing into his groin as I give it all my weight and when he jerks upright, his face a mask of pain, I punch him in the face.

"Fuck!" he yells when my knuckles crack along his jaw, but that's all he has the air to say because in the next instant I launch off of the bed and using his erection as a handrail. His breath wheezes out of him as he keels over. Rolling himself into a ball on the corner of his mattress, he faces me. Eyes bulging, he still manages to check me out while I pace angrily on his side of the bed. The boxer briefs that I'm still wearing make my ass look insanely hot and I use that to my advantage by turning my back on him to spit fire throughout the room.

"You just ruined what could have been a very nice morning for you Dreamboat!" *Yay! My voice is back! I get to scream if I want to.*

"I'm sorry baby," he chokes out, moaning in pain when I turn around and slap him in the dick.

"Not yet you're not. How *dare* you say something like that to me and *threaten me* with that skinny bitch that you *say* means nothing. Just the fact that you *used* her as part of your morning speech tells me that she's more than you say she is!"

"No! She's not!" Damien growls, wincing when he reaches for me and I sidestep his hands. "Romany! Come on...please! I'm sorry babygirl!"

"No," I snap. "No, you're not sorry. But you *are* going to be."

Glaring at him as I saunter toward the closet, I collect my outfits I brought in with me last night and head for the bedroom door.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Damien snaps, leaping from the bed naked and heading my way. "You're not leaving."

"Stop!" I shout. "If you touch me right now, it will be the *last* time."

He freezes midstep, his glorious body on full display and his intricate tattoos shifting while his muscles flex in anger. Shaking his head at me, his jaw tight with fury, he hisses, "Please babygirl. Don't do it. I said something stupid, I know I did. I'm sorry."

*Don't look below his eyes! Don't look below his eyes! Be strong! Do not look below his eyes!*

*Do not look at all!*

My eyes slam shut as the memory of his stupid little threat rings in my ears. "It was the wrong damn thing to say," I snap, then I spin around to give him my back before I race for the front door of his suite. I snarl, "You should have just let me sleep." He says nothing as I exit his room and stomp toward the front door, collecting my phone from the living room in the process. Something shatters against the wall behind me and I *almost* stop just to see what he broke, but that's what he wants me to do, so I don't. Instead, I ignore it and bounce out into the hallway, slamming his door as hard as I possibly can. Hopefully hard enough to knock a few of his trophies off the shelves.

*Am I overreacting? Probably.*

*Am I jealous of that skinny little skank? No.*

*But of all the things to threaten me with, whether he was just playing or not, he definitely picked the wrong one.*

*I'm allowed to say no to him, right? Right.*

*I'm allowed to be mad, right? Right.*

*Fucking perfect. Now what? I need a shower.*

The service elevator lights up at the end of the hallway, signaling that it's about to open. For a moment, I hesitate, freezing at the crossroads with my eyes on the stairway and my ear to the hall. Although I know that I'm not supposed to use the elevator without Alex or Damien to escort me - I dive for it the moment the doors open. The damn thing is empty, which is mildly concerning, being as how elevators generally need an operator, but I shake off that little piece of wisdom and concentrate on hitting the third floor button as many times as humanly possible until the doors close.

The soft bell chimes and they finally close. Sagging against the wall with a sigh of relief, I try to let the anger roll off of me before I step out onto the third floor. All is quiet in the hall and a quick glance at my phone tells me I only have twenty minutes until breakfast.

I scamper down the corridor, bypassing my room and heading straight for the set of double doors that I *know* I shouldn't be stepping through. But something has my feet heading that way. The insanely glutinous maneater inside of me is pissed that Alex even *hired* a new secretary, let alone *that particular* one.

*What the hell are you doing, Ro?*

*He's probably still sleeping off his boos.*

*Or he's fucking his new secretary. Dana.*

*God help me... if he is fucking that anorexic groupie it will be the very last straw.*

Taking a deep breath as I approach Alex's suite, I raise my fist and prepare to knock, but before I can the door swings open and I have to stop myself from swooning at the sight before me.

Alex stands just behind the door, freshly showered and wearing nothing but a towel around his deliciously sculpted waist. The grooves of his biceps and forearms appear strained, the muscles working overtime and his perfectly shaven jaw flexing at the sight of me. When he notices who's clothes I'm wearing, his deep green eyes blaze with anger and disappointment. But he keeps his mouth shut, simply shaking his head in disapproval.

With a proud raise of my chin, I glare back at him, satisfied when he stops scowling at me to stare at my lips. Pushing forward before I decide to change my mind, I force myself to step over the threshold and into his rooms, my heart racing the entire way.

But then I hear him shut and lock the door behind me, and I freeze.

The dark, boyish timbre of his voice resonates inside of me when he speaks. "It is against policy for you to sleep in another employee's suite. If you must choose somewhere else to rest while Antony's blood still stains your floor, then I will choose for you."

"Oh?" I reply breathlessly, sensing that he is still at my back, but that he is closing in swiftly. "And where do you choose?"

He's standing right behind me when he answers. I can smell his conditioner and the mint of his breath. "You will stay here. With me."