His Mafia Queen

A Bad Girl

RILEY

This is ridiculous.

I flop back on the bed, unsure of what to do with myself. After Gabriel left, I wandered outside to the terrace where we shared drinks last night. As he suggested, I checked out the private beach, which was lovely, but hot. So, I retreated inside, back to the bedroom.

While I was interviewing Gabriel in the gym, this all seemed like a great idea. Staying here, shadowing him, getting to know his life. Now that I'malone, I'mnot so sure.

I have a few hours before the stylist comes, and my stomach's already in knots over that. I neglected to ask him where we're going tonight, and what kind of outfit I should select. Will the stylist know? I rub the heels of my hands against my eyes.

Part of me wants to burrow into the comfy bed and take a nap, forget all about this awkwardness. But I can't squander this opportunity to explore—or snoop.

Gabriel didn't tell me where I couldn't go, I reason. So, unless a member of his household staff pops up, I'm going to go on a little fishing expedition.

I stealthily walk out and shut the door to my bedroom, making sure it's not locked behind me. My first stop is Gabriel's office, mostly because I know how to get there.

But it's locked. "Shit," I whisper aloud while kicking myself for not snooping earlier.

I try all the other doors at this end of the house. The only one that's open is the library, and I spend several minutes inspecting the titles. Gabriel has an impressive array of books, many of them first editions. Some are quite old, and I wonder if they were his grandfather's. The musty smell of the pages fills my nose as I run my fingers over the spines.

But I find nothing of significance that tells me more about who he is as a person.

The room is silent except for the sound of my breathing and the occasional creak of the floorboards—this is the only room that has a wood floor, not tile. It's a peaceful space, and I wonder if he spends a lot of time in here. It seems like it, because the chairs look worn and well lived in.

The shelves are lined with books of all different genres, and there are four comfortable-looking armchairs scattered around the room. It's clear that Gabriel is a man who enjoys reading, and that endears me to him even more.

I smile when I take down a hardcover of Mario Puzo's The Godfather. It's a signed first edition, probably worth thousands. How ironic that he'd have this particular book.

How meta, even.

I carefully slip the pristine, old book back onto the shelf and inspect a few more. Eventually, I give up rifling through the books and walk out. A meander down another hallway—how many does this place have, anyway?—and I run into Cassie, in the kitchen. It's a blindingly white room that looks like no one has ever cooked a single meal here. Maybe this is just for show?

She greets me with a giant smile. "Hello, dear. Do you need something?"

Of course, I don't want to tell her that I'm snooping around, so I nod. "I was hoping for something to drink, thanks."

She rattles off an impressive array of beverages, and I decide on an iced coffee.

"We happen to have a fresh batch. Mr. Greco loves cold brew coffee and we make it from scratch right here. One moment," she says.

Within a few minutes, I'm holding a chilled glass of coffee that rivals any café in town. "It's delicious. Thank you."

I lean against a counter. "So, how long have you worked for Mr. Greco?" I ask casually.