Maid for the Mafia
Banshee

**ROMANY**

Antony Angeletto.

I'd *almost* forgotten about him. Almost.

He's dressed immaculately of course. In an Italian three piece suit of shale gray. His short brown ponytail pulled back as severely as ever and he's freshly shaven. He looks nice enough, but I seem to remember him sticking his penis where it wasn't welcome the last time he was around. And... I don't like his creepy little smile. Or the way he's eyeing me up in my robe. With that thought in mind, I take a huge step back from the closet. Disturbingly enough, that puts me closer to the bed and judging by the little twinkle that sparks in his dark pitiless eyes, that fact has not escaped him.

My phone is on the *other* nightstand. Unless I can convince myself to walk around him, I'm going to have to leap across the bed to grab it.

"What the hell are you doing in here? Why are you in my room?" I snap angrily.

He chuckles darkly, walking a few more paces in my direction. His *aura* forces me to retreat, I simply do not want his energy to touch mine. So I continue backing up until the backs of my thighs hit the mattress. Which coincidentally, still looks like an altar for sin.

"My, my, my," he tsks, his gaze traveling delightedly over my curves. "Not quite the pliant little mouse you were a couple of weeks ago, now are you?"

"I've never been a pliant *anything.* I was high as fuck. Doped to the gills and not by choice. Thanks to *she, who shall not be named*, I was half out of my mind." Stella, that cunt. "You should leave. Alex will short circuit if he finds out you are in here. Go now, and I won't tell him."

Antony laughs, taking the remaining five feet between us in two tiny little steps. Now he's only about half a foot away from me and close enough to choke me with his aftershave.

"Alex is the one who invited me here. He and I have business to discuss," he says quietly as his irises disappear and he reaches out a hand to trace over my neck. "I'm thinking of making him a very generous offer. So no, I will not leave until our business has concluded."

His fingers feel disgusting on my freshly washed skin and for whatever reason he hasn't removed them yet. "That might be, but I can guarantee you that he did not intend for you to step into *my space.* Get. Out." Something tells me that if I decide to make a mad dash for my phone, he's going to tackle me. We're too close to the bed and I can see significant activity just below his belt buckle. This bastard is getting hard and his *fingers* are still on my neck. *Okay Ro. You are going to jump for your phone in a minute and when you do, you are going to scream like a fucking banshee at the very same time. Regardless of whether or not he decides to grab you.* Better safe than sorry.

Almost like he's reading my mind, Antony's grip tightens just under my chin and at the same time he reaches forward with his other hand to grasp the lapels of my robe. *Fuck. Now he has me anchored.*

My throat pulses in alarm at this new development and I smack his hand away. Thankfully, it falls to his side. However, he still has my robe in a death grip.

I try a different tactic. "Can you back up please, you are in my motherfucken bubble and I need to get to my phone so that I can inform Alex that you are lost."

Antony licks his lips, ignoring me as he tugs on my robe and I'm forced to either lean into him, or risk having the damn thing fall open. Of course, I end up flush with his chest and reach up to clasp *both* of my hands over the front of my robe beneath his. Once I'm confident it won't be tugged open I start to reel back, only for him to shake his head and clamp his free arm around my waist. "I don't think so," he whispers, leaning in to trace his long greedy nose over the side of my face. "Looks like *you've been busy. Someone has definitely been sipping your nectar." As his arm lowers from my waist to my ass, I shove him as hard I can in the chest, which as you might have guessed, only serves to piss him off. "That's fine, gorgeous. I like a little fight in my whores."

*Whores? Oh fuck no.*

*CRACK.*

My hand stings and buzzes with pain when I slap him and although his head reels to the side, he doesn't let me go. Instead, his eyes flash with anger and he smiles brightly. "Believe it or not that just made my dick harder." *That is it. Get ready to banshee.*

I draw in a sharp, sudden breath and prepare to yell, but before I can, Antony's hand closes around my throat and absolutely nothing gets out. *Or IN, for that matter. At least I just drew in a complete breath.* Then again, my lungs are full to bursting and the sensation is mildly painful when I can't release the pressure.

"There's still twenty minutes left before dinner. Just enough time for me to teach you a lesson you cunt." He smirks, releasing my ass to try and rip open my robe, but I refuse to let it go, despite that I'm struggling for air.

Giving me an evil smile, he does the unexpected and instead of going for the top of my robe, he reaches for the opening beneath my belt, slipping his hand into the bottom. *Damn.* I close my eyes and release my hold on the robe to claw at his first on my throat. I'm going to need air, very, very soon and his grip isn't easing at all.

"Aww gorgeous, the sooner you stop struggling, the sooner I let you breathe. I'd rather choke you with my cock than my hands," he chortles. Then he's bending me backward as he undoes his belt and I find myself somewhat suspended over my bed.

Again I try to scream, but all that I manage is an unattractive gurgle and just when I'm about to give in, something happens.

Antony seems to tense, his body straightening out and pulling me upright. When I open my eyes I can see why and every inch of me wants to weep tears of joy. Damien stands directly behind him, the bastard. So close, he might even be able to hear his thoughts.

Damien doesn't look at me, nor does he speak. He's too busy copping a feel I suppose. At least, that's what it looks like to me, but when Damien tosses a couple of guns onto the bed behind me, I realize he was disarming him, not fondling him. So when Damien's hand stretches over the front of Antony's pants and he fists the fabric just behind Antony' zipper, I'm more than a little confused. That is, until I hear Antony's grunt of pain.

"It's time for her to breathe now, so get your goddamn hands off my lady," Damien says coldly with his mouth on Antony's ear.