A MERRY MAFIA CHRISTMAS (GxG)

IX

My Christmas List: December 4th
Please let me un-hear what Armani just told me.

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I sat on the cold counter for at least twenty minutes before picking up the fork and finishing the now-cold Ravioli. Even if it was one of the best dishes I had, my swirling stomach wasn't particularly in the mood for it—which seemed realistic, given what I had just found out.

Everything was piecing together in my brain. Why everyone was so afraid of Armani. Where the money came from. Why everyone wore all black—and butlers, maids, and chefs provided for them.

And this deal signing occurring on Christmas eve... I can only assume it's such a big deal if it's scheduled to happen with another mafia.

Did Diana know about this? Was she aware of Armani's real business?

I shook my head. I doubt that. I doubt she'd work with someone who was involved in such a thing. Then again, I'm sure Diana purposefully didn't ask questions knowing that the large sum of money was odd, but still wanting to level up her company.

I let out a deep sigh, massaging my temples briefly, before hopping off the counter. This definitely complicates things... well it doesn't technically have to complicate anything. But I do know I should probably keep whatever kind of inappropriate feelings I feel toward Armani locked away in a well-protected safe.

I definitely can't get involved with not only a client but a mafia boss as well.

When I made it up to my room, Arthur was waiting at my door. My brows furrowed as I made my way over to him—did Armani send him?

"Hello Ms. Cadieux," he greeted with a polite smile. "The boss sent me to inform you of a room change."

I tilted my head. "Room change?"

Arthur nodded, looking down at the marble floors. "I uh... you're now on the eighth floor Ms. Cadieux."

I shook my head, knowing that floor was only reserved for Armani. I don't want to share a floor with her, not after what I just learned. Why would she do this? Why would she have me moved up there?

"No-no, tell her I want to stay on my level," I said, shaking my head even more.

Arthur pursed his lips. "I'm afraid it's nonnegotiable miss."

I sighed. "Did she tell you to mention that?" I asked, knowing it seemed like something she'd add in there. I think this is my last straw. From Armani's back-and-forth behavior that mostly remained cold, the stress the two major projects have put on me, and finding out that whatever I'm wrapped up in is a mafia—has definitely pushed me to just say fuck this. It's not even worth it anymore, and I doubt Diana would fire me. My pay is already more than enough anyways.

As I followed Arthur into the elevator, he pulled out a key card sending the elevator up to the eighth floor.

Knowing my decision I felt bothered. I was irritated that I was giving up. I almost wanted to pout like a child who got their toy snatched from them. Clearly, I had issues with not getting my way, but when you have a sister who taunts you—you feel like you have something to prove to yourself.

I felt mad—a fit of genuine anger pumping through my hot wound-up body.

When we made it to the eighth level, I followed Arthur down the long hall that had two black doors on one wall, and only one on the adjacent wall.

Arthur motioned me further down the hall where an open archway was, which I later saw lead to an open living space. A modern kitchen with sparkingly appliances, a living room with a grey couch and white accessories, and a dining room with a black table and matching leather chairs—the monochromatic theme was admirable. I looked over noticing the black double doors past the kitchen. That must be Armani's room.