The Mafia King’s Doll

Franco

I’m not going to lie, I’ve never done anything remotely close to this.

Sitting on the floor with my PA is the last thing I expected to do tonight. But it’s weirdly satisfying.

Whenever I speak to Miss Blakely, I keep my tone soft and don’t treat her like I would at the office, because I don’t want her to run for the hills.

Passing a burger and fries to her, our fingers touch, but she quickly pulls back. Her features tighten, and while she’s busy drowning her fries in ketchup, I watch as she sucks in a deep breath of air.

Haven’t we touched before?

I search my memory, and realizing she’s always kept a couple of inches between us makes me wonder what happened to her.

I can take a few guesses, but they all make me angry just thinking about them.

She might’ve annoyed me the first two weeks she worked with me, but since she got her act together, it’s been, dare I say, pleasant.

Wanting to separate the time we spend together here at Paradiso from when we’re at work, I ask, “Can I call you Samantha?”

Squashing her burger, she smiles at me. “Sure. I’d like that.”

What is she doing?

When she sees me staring at her, she explains, “It’s too big to fit into my mouth, so I have to flatten it.”

Why do I find that cute?

The door opens, and Brian comes in with the bottle of water. He sets it down next to me before leaving the room again.

Grabbing the bottle, I place it between Samantha and me and continue to watch her eat her food.

Knowing we might spend a lot of time together in the future and not wanting to do something that will upset her, I say, “We should talk about the rules while you eat.”

“What rules?”

“Yours. What do you expect from our meetings?”

She swallows the bite she just took, then answers, “I want to get comfortable spending time with you. If that goes well, then I’d like to try holding hands.” Her shoulders slump and she sets the deformed burger down in the box. “I know it sounds weird.”

My tone is still soft and gentle as I say, “Not at all. I assume something happened to you, and this is you trying to heal from it.”

She nods as she reaches for the bottle of water, and only after she’s taken a sip, she admits, “I tried going for therapy but it didn’t work for me.”

Anger begins to simmer in my chest as I get confirmation that someone hurt her so fucking badly she can’t even be alone with a man.

It must’ve been difficult for her to come into my office.

She picks at the bun, breaking little pieces off, then gives me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I figure if I can sleep next to a man, I might be able to date again. That’s what I’m hoping to get out of these meetings.”

“Just don’t push yourself too hard.”

She nods as she looks down at the food on her lap. “I won’t.” Lifting her head again, her eyes lock with mine. “Thank you for doing this.”

“You’re welcome.”

She gestures at me, then asks, “What’s with the scary ski masks? I understand it’s to protect your identity, but couldn’t the club have chosen something else?”

“You think they’re scary?” A chuckle rumbles from my chest.

I don’t want to know how she’ll react if she were to find out I’m one of the heads of the Cosa Nostra. The woman will probably die of shock.

She scrunches her nose, which I find cute. “It’s a skull. It doesn’t inspire warm and fuzzy feelings.”

“It fits the taboo nature of the club,” I explain.

She picks up a fry and nibbles on it. When she’s done, she wipes her fingers on a napkin and asks, “If we’re going to spend time together, what do I call you?” A frown forms on her forehead. “Right now, I’ve got mystery man and masked man. Both sound silly. Any suggestions?”

Fuck. She has a point.

My mind races as I think for a moment, and coming up with nothing, I say, “You can call me whatever you want.”

“Hmm.” For the first time since I laid eyes on Samantha, a mischievous gleam sparkles in her eyes. “How about Bob?”

Before I can stop myself, I mutter, “Fuck no.”

Samantha tilts her head, and her eyes narrow on me. “There’s something familiar about you. It feels like we’ve met before.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Forcing a chuckle over my lips, I say, “I doubt that very much. I’d remember meeting someone as beautiful as you.” An idea pops into my head. “How about Beast? You know, like Beauty and the Beast?”

Samantha lets out a loud bark of laughter, and I’m a little stunned as I watch her cry with laughter and tears stream down her face.

When she manages to catch her breath, she gasps, “That’s so corny. Oh my God.” She continues to laugh her ass off, and it brings a smile to my face.

I watch her wipe a tear from her cheek, and her voice is thick with laughter as she says, “I might as well call you Skull.”

“Okay,” I agree, which has more laughter bubbling over her lips.

“I’m just going to stick with my mystery man. It doesn’t make me cringe.”

Her mystery man. Why do I like that so much?

Samantha checks the time on her wristwatch, then her eyes widen, and she gets up. “I didn’t realize it was so late!”

I check the time and see it’s already past ten, meaning we’ve been in this room for over two and a half hours.

Climbing to my feet, I gather our empty box and wrapper and shove them into the paper bag.

“I’m so sorry,” Samantha says as she hoists the strap of her handbag over her shoulder.

“Don’t apologize. I enjoyed myself,” I say to reassure her.Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

“Oh, good.” A smile of relief spreads over her face as she walks to the door. Then she pauses and asks, “How do I book you for the next appointment?”

“I’ll assign myself to all your appointments, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Great!” She looks a little awkward as she adds, “Thanks for tonight. I really appreciate it.”

“Wait, I’ll walk you to your car,” I say before she can open the door. “Oh, don’t worry. I took the subway.”

My right eyebrow lifts, and I shake my head. “I’m not letting you take the subway so late at night. I’ll have one of the staff members drive you home.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“It’s the least we can do after the mishap earlier.”

Looking relieved, she asks, “Can a woman take me home?”

“Of course.” Leaving the room with her, I say, “Take a seat up front, and I’ll send someone to you.”

Samantha turns to face me, and she looks hesitant. I’m about to assure her she’ll be safe when she holds her hand out to me. “It was nice meeting you.”

I glance down at her hand and ask, “Are you sure?”

She nods and widens the smile on her face. “I’m sure.”

Reaching for her hand, my fingers wrap around her slender ones and I give her a gentle squeeze before pulling away.

“Have a good night, Samantha.” “You too, Mystery Man.”

The corner of my mouth lifts as I watch her walk down the hallway, then I turn around and head to the security room so I can assign a driver to take her home.