Betrayed Heiress, Mafia Queen

8

I turned to Helen, my voice shaking a bit. "Jason told me to come to his study right now," I said, half nervous.

Helen squinted her eyes slightly, "Don’t keep him waiting, we can continue when you come back."

She said as she nodded toward the door, "Don’t be too nervous, OK." I nodded firmly and took a deep breath, heading out.

I stepped out of the staff quarter. I walked back to Jason’s quarter through the quiet garden. I walked past the main building. The guards watched me, their eyes making me a little bit uneasy. I quickened my pace, my heart thumping harder with each step as I neared Jason's quarter.

I replayed Jason's tone in my head and thought about what I might’ve done. “He sounded a little angry on the phone,” I muttered to myself.

“What did I do?” I thought, racking my brain. The more I thought, the more my mind went blank.

I reached the front of the house, climbed the steps, took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy door. As I stepped inside, I saw Cecilia who was already waiting for me at the entrance. She came to me immediately, "This way, Mara," she said.

She led me to the study, knocked once and pushed the door open. “She’s here, sir,” Cecilia announced as she stepped outside to leave. I stepped inside, closing the door softly behind me.

Jason sat on a chair, his eyes fixed on me. He didn’t say a word, he just gestured for me to sit, pointing at some newspaper on the table. He picked one up and gave it to me to read.

I took the newspaper from Jason and scanned through the article. My heart sank as I read the words. "Mara Smith, 25 years old, drowned at sea, nobody found," I read them silently as I looked at my face staring back at me. My eyes met Jason’s, "My uncle did this," I said, my voice low and devastated.

“I know. But what baffles me is he didn’t even wait before declaring you dead. What a monster,” Jason said, his words hung in the air, his expression twisted in disgust.

“What do I do? Oh God, what do I do?” I gasped, barely able to breathe.

Jason’s intense gaze pinned me in place. "Lie low Mara. Your uncle’s deal with Jeff means the Volkov’s are likely to back him."

I leaned in, my voice barely audible, “The Volkovs? Like the other mafia family as powerful as yours?” I whispered, eyes locked on Jason, fear creeping in my voice.

"Yes, the same ones. I’ll protect you as long as you keep your true identity under wraps. Don’t tell anyone you’re Smith." His eyes drilled into mine.

"Got it. I won’t tell anyone," I whispered.

Jason’s expression softened slightly, and he gave a curt nod. "Good." He leaned back in his chair. "You’d better not. Your life depends on it."

I felt a shiver run down my spine. "I’ll head back to the staff quarter then," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Jason’s gaze lingered on mine for some seconds before he nodded again. "Yeah. Go."

I stood up and turned to leave. Jason’s voice stopped me at the door. "Mara," he called out. I turned back, eyebrow raised. "Yes," I responded.

"Keep your head down," he said, his expression unreadable. He paused. "And if Helen asks about what we discussed, tell her we talked about Jeff." I nodded, and slipped out into the corridor, the door clicking shut behind me.

I walked quietly back to the staff quarter, my mind replaying the conversation with Jason. Helen looked up as I entered, concern etched on her face. "Hey, everything okay?" she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly. I nodded. "Yeah, everything’s cool."

Helen nodded, a hint of a smile on her face. "Good. I’ve decided on your post, you’ll be working in Jason’s quarter starting tomorrow. Cecelia is there to brief you on everything you need to know, like protocols, access points, and the work. She’s going to show you the ropes, so pay attention. And also know that rules are stricter there, so keep your ears open and your mouth shut, okay?" She said and added a firm nod for emphasis. "Got it?"

I nodded immediately, "Got it." Helen nodded towards the kitchen, "Let’s continue with what we were doing before the boss called."

I headed straight to the kitchen, the aroma of simmering stew enveloped me as I resumed slicing the carrot. Helen followed, checking the pot. “Good, now add those to the pot and let’s get the peas shelled.”

I watched as she expertly stirred the stew, the wooden spoon moving in smooth circles. "You’re a natural in the kitchen," I said, trying to sound casual. She smiled up at me. "I've had a lot of practice," she said.

"Now, it’s your turn to shell those peas!"

I took the bowl of peas from Helen. I started shelling them, but my fingers fumbled, and the peas went flying in all directions. Helen chuckled softly and stepped in, gently guiding my hands.

"Do it like this," she said, demonstrating the technique. Her hands moved deftly, the peas popping out into the bowl. "Don't worry, Cecilia and Marta will probably teach you everything very well," she added.

A wistful look crossed my face as I shelled the peas, the familiar motion evoking fond memories. I recalled sitting in our old kitchen, watching my mother skillfully shell peas for dinner. She insisted on doing it herself, refusing to let any of the maids help, believing that this simple act brought a sense of warmth and closeness to our family gatherings.

"I miss her, I miss them," I whispered, my voice cracking as tears welled up in my eyes.

Helen noticed the far-off look probably and paused, her expression softening. "Hey, you okay?" she asked gently, her voice bringing me back to the present.

I snapped back to reality, feeling a little caught off guard. "Yeah, I’m fine," I said, forcing a small smile. I went back to shelling the peas. Helen’s eyes lingered on me for a moment before she nodded and went back to stirring the stew. The kitchen was quiet for a beat, except for the sound of sizzling meat.