Page 28 of The Mobster’s Maid

She gazes up.

“You’re safe with me. No one will hurt you again.”

Rosalie

The candle on Vincenzo’s nightstand smells of cinnamon and oranges.

I have been lying in his bed for the last half hour while his private doctor, a quiet man with silver at his temples, looked at my cheek, cleaned the small cut inside my lip, pressed careful fingers against the place the SUV door banged me today.

Vincenzo did not leave the room for a single second of the examination.

He stood with his back against the wall and his arms crossed, his eyes on the doctor’s hands. The doctor did not touch any part of me without saying first what he was about to do. I didn’t feel it was necessary to get a checkup but Vincenzo looked so worried, I gave in. Seeing him like that broke my heart a little yet it made me feel warm all over too. He only relaxed a little when the doctor said I was going to be fine.

As soon as the elderly man walked out, he lit the cinnamon-orange candle on the nightstand, pulled a chair up to the side of the bed, and sat down holding my hand.

There is a faint spray of something dark on the cuff of his shirt I know is blood and not his. I should be terrified. After the horror of today’s ordeal, I keep expecting to fall apart.

However, there’s an unexpected calmness inside of me. I think Vince is making me feel this way.

I have never, in my whole life, felt this safe.

He is watching me.

His green eyes are tired. There is tension at the corner of his mouth that has not gone away.

I lift the ice pack off my cheek. Set it on the pillow beside me.

“Is my cousin okay?”

He breathes in.

“Yes. She’s shaken, but she’s home.”

“You know Jesse?”

“He worked for me. Years ago.”