The next morning, Sam was at work and Ricky left with a work of his own, leaving just me and Smith alone.
"How long have you been working with Nik, Smith?" I asked him.
"Been six years now, ma'am." He answers without picking his head from the newspaper he was reading. I walk closer to the dining table where he was, and place a plate with scramble eggs in front of him.
"Breakfast," I tell him, "Toasts almost ready and juice is in the jar. And, call me Natasha."
"I told you we can manage food, ma'am. You need to rest, not serve us."
I take a seat opposite to him. "Just eat," I tell him, "And I told you, call me Natasha."
"Natasha," he finally looks at me, pauses, and then smiles. "Thank you."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"This business... the whole mafia thing. Is it a lot of
