Doted On By The Mafia Boss

When Little Bee heard that he wanted to talk to her she wanted to go hide somewhere; she had yet not recovered from the shock which was given to her last night and she was sure it won't be good if she talked to him now. How was she supposed to avoid him now, he was connected on the phone. The banging on the door intensified and she sunk deeper into her blanket.

She hid under the bed and closed her eyes; yes she can just pretend to sleep. The maid knocked on the door a few more times before getting restless and pushing the door open slowly to check on her. The girl seemed to be sound asleep, draped tenderly by the blanket she looked to be dead sleep. Now she had no idea what to do so she ran down and reported that Bee was fast asleep. Ryan felt as something was not right, he inquired, "Is she sick?"

The maid remembered how Bee was when she met her in the morning, her face was dull with her eye bags showing up. She looked worn out and visibly lacked energy; she forgot to check her temperature but all her expressions indicated that she was unwell. The maid vigorously nodded, “Yes Yes! I think Miss Bee is sick. Really unwell!”

Beep... Beep... Beep... And the phone was hung up without a warning. The maids were confused why he hung up but knew it for sure that it wasn’t a good news for them. Stella kept the phone back and looked at Lily who herself was sweating standing there, “Do you think we are in trouble?”

...                

Ryan shoved his phone in his pocket and darted his eyes at Jack who was looking at him already, “What happened, Ryan? Who was it?”

sick.” The man directly jumped to the main point. The assistant whose mind was occupied by thought of food too well up with worry, his expressions turned serious as he asked, “What? How?” The man couldn’t help but feel restless,

the girl was the only one occupied in his mind. He was away for few days and she ended up falling ill. The girl was really stupid, she didn’t knew how to take care

time he was waiting he smoked two whole sticks

...

she had no will to eat. She sat there trying her best to

sad?” She voiced out, “I am not afraid of him; I... I am not ashamed. Why should I be? I wasn’t in

around her forehead. She jumped off the bed and stumbled on the floor before stabilizing herself; she corrected the draped blanket and started walking, imagining herself on a stage addressing people holding banners of her name. She

to be a sword she swung it in the air playing to herself; with a tone as determined as a knight she said “When he comes I

her 'sword' still up in the air she threw a devil may care glance at the familiar figure which was standing at the door. She must say she felt