“I have to find someone to pretend he’s my boyfriend by tomorrow,” the curvy maid whispered under her breath. She thought no one had heard her desperate confession. But from the other side of the room, her intimidating Mafia boss had caught every word—and the look in his eyes suggested he had no intention of letting another man take that role.
“I Need A Boyfriend By Tomorrow,” The Plus-Size Maid Whispered—Her Mafia Boss Heard Everything
“I need a boyfriend by tomorrow.”
The words were barely louder than a breath.
The plus-size maid stood alone in the enormous white kitchen, one hand clutching her phone against her ear, the other folded tightly across her stomach. Her dark brown hair was twisted into a messy bun, loose curls falling around her worried face. The black uniform and white lace-trimmed apron made her look almost invisible against the spotless marble and gleaming cabinets.
She had no idea someone was listening.
The man standing silently in the doorway had heard every word.
He was in his late thirties, tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair combed back and a neatly trimmed beard. Tattoos disappeared beneath the collar of his black shirt and climbed along his neck. His black suit made him look less like a businessman and more like the kind of man people instinctively moved away from.
He was the owner of the mansion.
And according to half the city, he was also the most dangerous man in it.
The maid swallowed hard.
“No, I’m serious,” she whispered into the phone. “If I show up alone, my family will know something is wrong.”
She paced beside the marble island.
“I just need someone to pretend for one night. A boyfriend. That’s all.”
The man in the doorway narrowed his eyes.
A boyfriend?
For the first time that evening, his expression changed.
Not much.
Just enough to reveal that he was listening.
The maid sighed.
“I know it sounds ridiculous. But my relatives already think I’m a failure. They invited me to that dinner because they want to introduce me to some man they chose.”
She closed her eyes.
“And if I refuse, they’ll keep asking questions about why I’m still alone.”
There was a long pause.
Then she whispered, “I can’t tell them the real reason.”
The mafia boss stepped farther into the kitchen.
She didn’t notice.
“I don’t want anyone knowing I lost my apartment,” she continued. “Or that I’m working two jobs. I just… I need one night where they think my life is normal.”
Her voice cracked.
The man finally spoke.
“You need a boyfriend?”
She froze.
The phone nearly slipped from her hand.
Slowly, she turned.
He was standing only a few feet away.
Her face went pale.
“How long have you been there?”
“Long enough.”
She stared at him.
He stared back.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then she quickly lowered the phone.
“Sir, I wasn’t—”
“You were.”
“I wasn’t talking about you.”
“I know.”
His answer was calm.
That somehow made him more intimidating.
She looked down at the floor.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For having a personal conversation in your kitchen.”
“This is a kitchen,” he said. “Not a prison.”
She looked up, surprised.
The corner of his mouth almost moved.
Almost.
Then his expression became serious again.
“Who is bothering you?”
“No one.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
She tightened her fingers around the phone.
“My family.”
“What did they do?”
“They didn’t do anything.”
“Then why do you sound frightened?”
She didn’t answer.
He walked toward the marble island and stopped on the opposite side.
“You said you need a boyfriend by tomorrow.”
She nodded reluctantly.
“Yes.”
“Why tomorrow?”
“My cousin is getting married this weekend. There’s a family dinner tomorrow night.”
“And?”
“And my relatives expect me to bring someone.”
He studied her.
“Why?”
“Because they enjoy reminding me that I’m thirty-eight and single.”
His jaw tightened.
“And you think bringing a stranger will solve that?”
“No.”
She gave a nervous laugh.
“I think bringing a fake boyfriend will make them stop asking questions for at least one evening.”
The room fell silent.
Then the most unexpected thing happened.
The mafia boss said, “I’ll do it.”
Her eyes widened.
“What?”
“I’ll be your boyfriend.”
She stared at him as though he had suddenly started speaking another language.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I don’t joke about things like this.”
“That is exactly why I’m confused.”
He leaned one hand against the marble countertop.
“You need someone convincing.”
“Yes.”
“Someone your family won’t question.”
“Yes.”
“Someone they won’t insult.”
She hesitated.
“Yes.”
“And someone who can make sure nobody causes you trouble.”
Her eyebrows drew together.
“You’re offering protection?”
“I’m offering to accompany you.”
“That sounds like protection.”
“It probably is.”
She almost laughed.
But the sound died when she saw his face.
He was completely serious.
“Why?” she asked.
He looked at her for several seconds.
“I heard you say you wanted one night where your life felt normal.”
Her expression softened.
“And you think you can give me that?”
“No.”
He paused.
“I think I can give you something better.”
She couldn’t understand why her heart had suddenly started beating faster.
“You barely know me.”
“I know enough.”
“What do you know?”
“I know you work harder than everyone in this house.”
She blinked.
“I know you stay late when nobody asks you to.”
Her lips parted.
“I know you secretly leave food in the refrigerator for the security guards when they work overnight.”
She looked embarrassed.
“I know you pretend not to notice when people underestimate you.”
She looked away.
“And,” he continued, “I know you’ve been worried for weeks.”
Her eyes suddenly filled with tears.
She quickly turned toward the sink.
“I don’t need pity.”
“I didn’t offer pity.”
“Then what are you offering?”
His voice became quieter.
“A choice.”
She turned back.
He reached into his pocket and placed his phone on the counter.
“Tomorrow night, you can walk into that dinner alone and let them decide what your life should look like.”
He paused.
“Or you can walk in with me.”
She stared at him.
“And what happens after dinner?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“If that’s what you want.”
The answer surprised her.
No pressure.
No demand.
Just a choice.
She slowly picked up her phone.
“People will talk.”
“They already talk.”
“My family will be terrified of you.”
“They should behave, then.”
Despite herself, she smiled.
It was small.
But he noticed.
“Fine,” she whispered.
His eyebrows lifted.
“Fine?”
“I’ll take the deal.”
He nodded once.
“Tomorrow at seven.”
She hesitated.
“There’s one problem.”
“What?”
“I don’t know how to pretend you’re my boyfriend.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
“You don’t have to pretend.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Why?”
He stepped closer.
“Because I don’t intend to treat this like a game.”
Her heart pounded.
For the first time, she realized something terrifying.
She had asked the universe for a fake boyfriend.
Instead, the most dangerous man she had ever met had just volunteered.
And judging by the look in his eyes, he had no intention of keeping the arrangement fake for very long.
