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Paddy glances across the car at her with a soft smile. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing these Irish mobsters looking so tender, but it’s funny. Less funny is how those two got together.
Lauren’s brother got whacked by the Italian Mafia, and she ran to Paddy Flynn for protection. Paddy is an enforcer in the Irish Mafia, so the Italians couldn’t get to Lauren. Instead, they smashed up her apartment back in Dot. The one right next door to mine.
I bite back a sigh. I miss my apartment. It was a nice little two bedder, and I kept it tidy. But I mistakenly thought the sun rose and set out of Hamish MacLauchlan’s ass and let him on my lease.
Not a month later, the prick was tossing me out onmyass, and I’ve been couch surfing ever since. Low keeps trying to get me to move in with her and Paddy, but they onlyjustgot married.
Being around their sappiness twenty-four-seven would have me slashing at my wrists. I mean, I’m happy for the girl, but no, thank you.
She’s come through for me now. I needed a job and a place to live. My boss was best friends with Hamish, so I got my pink slip the day after Hamish dumped me. Good times.
But Low found me thisamazinggig. Live in housekeeper. West Roxbury. Apparently, I even get to run around in a nice little sedan, all part of the employment package. The only catch is that he’s in the Irish Mafia, and I need to keep my trap shut. Can do. I grew up in Dot. Keeping my mouth shut is second nature to me.
The three of us slide out of the SUV, and Paddy moves to the trunk to unload my bags. I look up at the house again. It is a gorgeous Victorian, landscaped to sit high off the street, three stories in dark siding with deep-red trim.
I sigh over the huge bay windows off the side of the first two stories. I’m moving into a fairytale. There’s even a cute little single-story cottage out the back, separate from the house, next to the drive, made to match the main house.
Paddy’s voice cuts across me as I smile at it, wondering if it is a man-cave or something. He might be syrupy sweet with Low, but his voice is dark and hard with me.
“That’s off-limits,” he says stiffly. “You don’t go in there. Ever.”
I nod jerkily to him, casting an uneasy glance over at Low, who shrugs at me.
“Mafia business,” she mouths. I swallow roughly. Good to know. I will be pretending there is nothing but empty space out here.
When Hamish kicked me out, he graciously gave me enough time to shove most of my belongings into three mid-sized suitcases and an overnight bag, which Paddy is unloading now.
He slings the overnight bag over his shoulder, and we each grab a suitcase as he lets us into the house, handing me the set of keys.
“I’ll give you a quick tour,” he tells me gruffly. “Then we’ll leave to let you get settled in. Connor will be home later. He’s off running errands.”
Low shudders a little on the word “errands.” I guess it means more Mafia business. I suppose it’s best if I don’t think about it.
Leaving the suitcases in the front entranceway, at the base of the twisting staircase, next to a white stone fireplace, Paddy leads us through a sitting room, flowing into a dining room, and through an archway into the kitchen.
You can see Paddy’s SUV from the kitchen windows, parked next to a neat little blue sedan –which I think might be my new car –and over to the “it’s not really there” cottage.
The house is exactly the opposite of what I imagined when Low told me one of her Irish mobsters needed a live-in housekeeper.
It’s all gorgeous hardwood parquet floors, and block painted walls with white trim. The place isspotless, and the furniture style matches the Victorian exterior and feel of the house.
I think most of the furniture is antique. There are even internal French folding glass doors between some of the rooms. And chandeliers. Cute, old-school chandeliers without being over the top.
Freakingfairytale. Beauty and the Beast on a smaller scale. I feel like this walk-through should be accompanied by piping orchestra music. Oh my God, there’s a cute little wooden upright piano!
The kitchen has Laura Ashley sprigged wallpaper. The whole space is turn of the century with little alcoves. I’m never leaving. I will be the best housekeeper in Massachusetts, so my mobster can’t bear to let me go. Then I can stay and bake in this kitchenforever.
The laundry has a stained glass window looking out over the spacious backyard. Astained glass window. It might only be a half-hour drive, but I am officially a world away from Dot.
The main staircase leads up to the second story, with three bedrooms, a bathroom, and a cozy sitting room with more comfortable-looking sofas than the fancy antiques in the parlor downstairs.
“This is your floor.” Paddy quickly brings my suitcases up and places them in one of the bedrooms, with a four-poster double bed and gorgeous dark hardwood matching bureau and closet set.
“This way.” He leads me back down the main staircase and up the second staircase hidden behind it, which leads directly to the third story.
This looks like it was once an attic space but is now a fully functional third floor.
“This is Connor’s space.”
