SHE IS THE MAFIA (BOOK#2)

Chapter 18

The sound of something shattering wakes me up from my deep sleep.
I sit up in bed and look around the darkroom, realizing I must have slept the day away after coming back home.

I can hear voices conversing downstairs and I blindly make my way out of my room to see what all the ruckus is about. Before I take a step down, I see light coming from a room in the east wing.

Elias must have already settled in by the looks of it.
I make my way down the steps.

"Is everything okay?" I call out, marching towards the kitchen, "I heard a loud... crash,"

Pieces of a white plate are scattered all over the ground. Annette is doing her best to sweep up all the pieces, while Elias places the remaining plates into the cabinet.

"Miss Moore, sorry to wake you," Annette says, "I was putting the plates away and I dropped on accident,"

Elias continues to do his job without turning to look at me.
I pull my cardigan closer to my body, "It's okay, I am glad you're not hurt,"

"No, Ma'am. Mr. Romano offered to help since I couldn't reach the higher shelf," she states, looking at him, "Thank you again,"

"It's no problem," he replies, stacking the last plate, "Just let me know when dinner is ready. I am going to go get cleaned up," he gives her a pearly smile and walks around me to head to his room. My eyes follow his every step.

Did he just ignore me?
In my own house?

"Is something wrong, Miss Moore?" I hear Annette ask.

I put a smile on my face and turn back to her, "Not at all. Just be careful next time," She nods and continues to sweep the ground. "Actually, let me do that," I walk over and take the broom, "You already have to dinner to make. This was it can get ready faster,"

"Oh, no. You can't... I mean it's my job. I created this mess you don't-"

"I insist. Don't say no to me, Annette," I tell her. She stands there in awe, but quickly nods and heads to the kitchen.

I missed doing things on my own sometimes. I know that I will be living a life of ordering people to do certain jobs for me. If I really wanted to, I won't have to lift a finger. But that's not what I want. The life I lived for the past six years alone, managing to take care of myself, taught me that I cannot rely on others to always do what I want them to.

Simple tasks like making my bed, cleaning my room, or doing any house chores are done for me. So this is a moment of normality.

I sweep the shattered pieces into the dustpan.
There is a large piece right under the island. I bend down and pick it up, throwing it into the pile. I examine the floor once more to make sure I got it all.

Something catches my eye.
A drop of red... paint?

I feel a sting on my hand.
There is a cut on the side of my index finger. Blood slowly drips off from my fingertip.

"Great," I say under my breath. I rip off a paper towel and press it against the small cut. I wipe the small drops of blood off the ground and put everything into the trash can.

I turn around only to jump at the sight of Elias leaning against the doorway. "Jesus, do you not have footsteps?"

"You just can't hear," he remarks. His face drops a little when his eyes move from my face to my hand. He walks over for closer observation, trapping me between the counter and him, "What the hell happened?"

"Nothing. I stupidly picked up a broken piece of the plate," I shrug it off.

His brows furrow, "Yes, stupidly," He reaches over my head, pushes closer against me. My hands grab the edge of the counter as I try to keep space between us. When he finally back off, I see he took out the first aid kit from the cabinet behind me.