Psycho

The house we pulled up to—well, I would even call it a house, it was a mansion—was a large white building, appeared to be over three or four stories, and had black trim and decor.

The driver—who stayed silent for the entire ride—pulled me right up to the staircase that led to the doorway. He exited the vehicle and opened my door for me.

"Miss, would you like me to take your bag?"

"If you think you could carry it." I chuckled darkly.

He seemed confused at my statement but once he grabbed the bag the widening of his eyes showed me he understood. He struggled to take it from my hands, much less carry it up the stairs, so I stopped him.

"Sir, it's okay. I don't mind taking my own bag." I said as I grabbed the bag from him.

I walked up the stairs as he stayed back. I heard him mutter as I walked away.

"Women with their clothes." He huffed.

Sure, clothes, let's go with that. I smirked.

I appeared in front of the large black doors and slowly raised my hand to the door...before banging my knuckles on it extremely loudly. I did this until it opened and revealed a very concerned Moretti.

"Jesus, woman, what do you have against my door?" He asked, his voice slightly raised as he gestured to the dents my knuckles made.

I brushed past him and into the foyer.

"I don't think I'm very fond of being called 'woman.' Anyways, haven't I already told you what to call me, man?" I said as I turned around to meet his piercing glare.

"I am not calling you Daddy." He growled.

"Oh how lovely that sounds coming from your mouth." I smiled. He seemed to grow annoyed. "I've been in here for twenty seconds and you've already been a bad host. Can't you just do what I ask?" His silence gave me my answer.

"I'm joking, get your panties out of a wad." I chucked at him.

"Listen, don't forget who you are talking to, little lady." He warned, stepping closer.

"Don't forget who you are talking to. And the fact that you invited me here." I poked my finger into his chest.

He sighed, most likely remembering what I did to one of his men earlier. "My apologies, um...Psycho."

"All is well. Now, where will I be sleeping?"

He led me up some stairs to the second floor, which looked to only have two rooms despite its immaculate size.

He gestured to the door on the left side of the hallway. "Your room."

Instantly my curiosity got the better of me. "What's that room?" I said as I pointed to the room on the right side of the hall.

"That's my bedroom." He simply answered.

"Wow, that's pretty forward of you to put my room by yours like that, buddy." I teased as I elbowed him in the ribs. He didn't seem to find it comical but I didn't care.

"I'm hardly in my bedroom. Typically, I'm found in my office anyways." He grumbled.

I went to go inside my room and he followed me. "The bathroom is in there." He said as he pointed to a room attached to mine.

I nodded and pulled my bag onto my bed before unzipping it, revealing all it contents.

"Jesus." I heard him suck in a breath behind me.

"What?" I asked innocently.

His eyes were wide as he gestured to my bag.

"Oh! Ha, yes I love to be prepared." I said as I looked down at my bag, smiling proudly.

"That's more weapons that most of my men have combined." He said, dumbfounded.

"Aw, thank you." I gushed as I put my hand over my heart.

He quickly left, still in shock. I began to settle in.

Knife under pillow. Check.

Gun in nightstand. Check.

Machete under mattress. Check.

Rifle under bed. Check.

Knife under sink. Check.

Once I finished with the basics, I zipped up the rest of the weapons into my bag. I laid on the mattress—which was far larger than mine at my apartment, might I add—and pulled the blankets over me.

I felt my lids begin to sink closed and immediately hopped up. Who knows if I'm safe here? You can't just fall asleep and be vulnerable in a mafia leader's house. I scolded myself.

But I'm so tired.

With a long sigh, I gave up, locked the door, and pulled the soft, obviously expensive, white covers over my shoulders and let my eyes close.

——————

I was in a deep, dreamless sleep when I felt a slight breeze. I was still asleep enough to not be able to open my eyes but I could feel something.

Just every couple seconds, a slight breath of air blew on me. It wasn't close, but I could still tell something was there.

Finally, I woke enough to realize. Somebody is breathing on me.

I pretended to stir into my sleep, slipping my hand under my pillow. Once I had the handle of the knife in my hand, I immediately shut up and thrusted the knife into the general area where the person must have been.

Once I opened my eyes, I saw a Moretti sitting on the side of my bed, my blade just a hair from his cheekbone.

He's gonna be pissed. I thought to myself.

Except, he didn't look angry, he looked almost intrigued. The corner of his lips topped up but immediately fell back into their typical straight line, showing no emotion.

But his eyes, they looked at me, drinking in everything. He was trying to figure me out, I could tell.

Good luck with that.

"I thought I locked that door." I tipped my chin up, awaiting an answer as I slowly laid the knife down.

"It's my house, I have keys to all the doors." He said cooly before he went back to trying to decipher me.

"I don't like that." I said bluntly.

He finally broke out of his little daydream and met my glare. "I had to see the Psycho in her most vulnerable state."

"And I definitely don't like that." I said bluntly, my tone a little darker this time.

"Well, come to find out, she's just as deadly in her sleep as she is awake."

"You bet your ass she is."

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UNEDITED (obviously)