There would be many words to describe Roman Cecilio, but one would be: malicious. Don of the Italian Mafia with no remorse, but what happens when he meets a woman and her daughter?
Jasmine Torres shelters her daughter from any and all harm, hiding...
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Ansley is crying and I'm trying to get her dressed. Somebody pounded on my door, waking Ansley up with in an immediate bad mood.
My poor baby doesn't like loud noises when she first wakes up and she becomes a clingy mess from it.
"Stop it, Mami!" She screams as I try to put her shoes on.
"Ansley, quit this right now. I know you got scared but you have no reason to be crying." I tell her before finally getting her shoe on and picking her up.
"No, Mami!" She cries, kicking her legs.
"Enough. I'm trying to get us out of here. Do you hear me? We don't have time for toddler tantrums." I say sternly. "Do you want to go back to sleep?" I ask, after taking a deep breath.
She nods, sniffling.
I jerk the blanket off the bed before covering her body with it, already feeling her tuck her head into my neck and gripping onto my shirt and hair for comfort.
I walk towards the dining room once more.
This place has four levels and a basement. It has elevators almost every hall. The marble floors reflect everything that walks on it.
I don't see a lot of people on my level but I don't question it. I'm just trying to stay focused on getting what Roman needs me to do so I can get us out of here.
I enter the dining room once more, ignoring the stares and walk to the seat I sat in last night by Roman.
I sit, leaning back in the chair for Ansley to get more comfortable and to stay asleep. There's a plate in front of me but I can't eat like this.
"What's wrong?"
I sigh harshly at the sound of Roman's voice. Why does he have to be in everyone's business? Actually, why does he have to be in mine?
Majority of this table is grumpy and scowling at everything near them but he chooses the one person that doesn't want to talk to him. I wasn't even doing anything, I was just zoning out.
"What do you mean?" I keep my voice quiet for Ansley.
"There's a blanket covering your child and there's stress wrinkles on your forehead." He points out.
"Observant aren't we?" I ask with the tilt of my head.
He just continues to stare at me. I look away, peaking underneath the blanket. Ansley's face is squished against my skin as I wear a pair of leggings and a cut off shirt with a sports bra underneath.
The guy that banged on my door told me that after breakfast, we'd be training so I dressed in something so I hopefully don't get hot.
"I need a piece of paper and a pen for the list of things I need." I tell him, looking away from Ansley.
