Sheri WhiteFeather - Mob Mistress

“Maids aren’t allowed to consort with guests,” Lucifer said, lifting his pointy nose at her.

Her pulse wouldn’t quit pounding. “I know.”

“Mr. Elk specifically asked for you.”

Damn, she thought. Damn. “I didn’t provoke that.” Nor had she known that Justin’s last name was Elk.

The chef measured her. “I certainly hope not. Now get going. He’s in the Garden Tower.”

Maya didn’t respond. The suite where Justin had been held hostage, the room she’d secretly visited, was aptly named, towering over the garden with a prestigious view.

She took the service elevator to the third floor and traveled down what suddenly seemed like an endless hallway.

She knocked on Justin’s door, and he gave her permission to enter.

Maya wheeled the cart into the sitting room, and the puppy ran toward her. Justin stood beside the sofa. Tall and dark with rangy muscles, he shifted his stance. His hair rebelled against the way he wore it, falling onto his forehead even though he’d combed it straight back. A glimmer of silver winked in his left ear. She hadn’t noticed the tiny hoop before, but it fit his Cherokee side, the quarter-blood roots he’d told her about.

Taking a deep breath, she warned herself to relax. When she looked up and met his gaze, she saw the scrutiny in his eyes.

He suspected her.

“Where would you like to eat?” she asked.

He kept watching her, trying to figure her out. “At the table is fine.”

She moved toward the cozy dining area. Sniffing the air, the puppy followed.

“You can put his bowl on the floor,” Justin said.

She nodded and gave the dog his food. He ate it noisily, wolfing it down with chowhound vigor.

As she arranged Justin’s silverware, her heart struck her chest. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her, not even to blink.

She struggled to keep her distance, to not give herself away. Or to admit that she was attracted to him. That sitting beside him on his bed and brushing her hand along his cheek had made her warm.

Erotically warm.

“Do you know why I’m here?” he asked, attempting to call her bluff.

She didn’t respond.

“Because I’m a Halloway,” he told her. “A long-lost relative.”

Maya dropped his salad fork, and it chimed against the table. She recovered it quickly, but the damage was already done. Justin gauged her reaction, watching her with keener interest.

She’d sneaked into his room because she needed an ally. Because she was hoping that a man who’d been kidnapped would jump at the chance to fight back. But if she’d known who he was, she would’ve never approached him.

“According to Brian, my mother was his sister.” He pushed his hair back, battling the rain-straight rebellion. “Her name was Beverly. She’s dead now.”

Maya tried to focus on her job, to pour his wine, but her hand wouldn’t quit shaking. She’d seen Beverly’s portrait in the den, hanging on the wall like a shrine.

No wonder Justin was important to the Halloways. No wonder they hadn’t intended to hurt him.

How stupid could she be, seeking him out? But worse yet was admitting that someone in her family had gone missing. What if he told the Halloways? What if they found a way to connect her to her dad?

Justin pulled up a chair and sat at the table, forcing his proximity, making Maya lose her train of thought. Her mind was twirling like a press-and-spin top. She struggled to serve his meal.

“They said that Reed Blackwood is my father. But I always thought he was my uncle.”

She tried not to flinch. He was bringing up Reed’s name to get her reaction. She’d already told him that she’d read about his uncle…his dad. Heaven help her.

“I’m returning to Texas in the morning,” Justin said. “That’s where I’m from. I wasn’t sure if you were aware of that.”

“Then I hope you have a good trip,” she finally responded, trying to sound like a proper maid, as if she didn’t know anything about him.

“I’m coming back. I made a special promise to someone.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. He was staring straight at her, holding her captive. Kidnapping her the way the mob had kidnapped him.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” he asked.

She glanced away. “I’m not supposed to get too friendly with guests.”

“There’s no one here but us.”

“You requested me by name. You shouldn’t have done that.” Beyond nervous, she placed his dessert on the table. “You’ll get me fired.”

“No, I won’t. I’m a Halloway, remember?” He made a grand gesture. “One of the lords of the manor.”

“I’m not supposed to get overly familiar with family members, either.”

“I’m not telling you anything that you won’t find out about later.” He reached for his wine. “Brian wants to make a formal announcement. To introduce me to the rest of the Halloways. To host a few parties in my honor.” He paused, tasted the chardonnay. “Not that there won’t be a few skeletons left over in my closet.”

Like the dead baby? He hadn’t mentioned that. But it must have something to with his paternity.

“If there isn’t anything else I can get you, then I should go. The chef—”

“Warned you not to get too familiar with me?” He kept watching her.

“Yes.” She couldn’t think clearly, not with him looking at her like that.

“I’m not trying to get you into trouble, Maya.”

No, she thought. He was waiting for her to come clean, to tell him who she was. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it, and he didn’t ask her directly, just in case she was the wrong girl.

“Will you look after Lester while I’m gone?” he asked instead.

She frowned. “Lester?”

He pointed to the dog, and the puppy danced in a circle. “He was a gift from the Halloways. He looks a lot like my childhood pet. It was tough to resist him.”

She glanced at the mixed-breed. He was so ugly he was cute. “I shouldn’t—”

“Get overly familiar with my dog? What’s the harm in that?”

She wanted to trust Justin. She wanted to believe that he was as honest as he seemed. “No harm,” she said, taking a small chance.

He smiled, revealing a set of boyishly lethal dimples, making her wonder what she’d gotten herself into. He actually turned her knees weak. How sexy could he be?

“I’ll tell Brian I’m leaving Lester in your care.” The dimples faded. He was no longer smiling. “It’s going to be tough seeing my parents. I’ll be glad to get it over with.”

She tried to seem unaffected, but she couldn’t help thinking about her own parents and the secret they’d kept.

“Are you okay?” he asked, as a shiver sliced her spine.

She looked up at the man who’d promised to help her. A man whose new family she believed was responsible for whatever had happened to her dad. “I’m fine.” She glanced at the food he’d yet to eat. “Just put the dishes outside of your door when you’re done.”

He reached out to brush her arm. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes.” His concern, his deliberate touch, made her weak-kneed all over again.

A moment later, she left his room, anxious for him to return to the mansion.

And wishing to God she wasn’t.

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