Stolen from the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Read Online Free PDF

like she’s still uncertain of me. I hope it’s not something I’ve done wrong.
    “Have you been by the flat yet?” she asks, then takes notice of my luggage and blushes. “Oh, I guess probably not since you’re still pulling a suitcase around. Duh.”
    I relaxed a little, realizing that her aloofness probably has less to do with judging me and more to do with her own insecurity. She seems sweet, but I can already pick up on the fact that she’s a little too hard on herself. A lot of gymnasts are. We’re forced to compete within such strict guidelines that some of us develop complexes about it. Just like my short stature marks me as an outsider, I can imagine that Maggie’s height and awkwardness set her apart, too.
    “Yeah, I just kind of spent the morning, uh, looking around.”
    “Well, I can take you to the apartment, if you like,” Maggie offers, brightening up. “My parents sent me here a week early to get accustomed to the city, and I’ve visited Paris a bunch of times before, so I know my way around pretty well!” She immediately blushed, probably feeling like she’s rambled too much. But I like people who talk a lot. My parents were always chattering back and forth while I just listened contentedly. It was comforting to me.
    “That would be awesome,” I assure her. “I’m totally new here.”
    “Okay,” she says, biting her lip. She still looks nervous, but there’s a sparkle in her eye. Maggie leads me across the large campus and out to the street. Instead of hailing a cab — which is how I always assumed everyone in big cities got around — she just started walking, with me trailing slightly behind.
    “Is the apartment close to here?” I pipe up, my shorter legs struggling to keep up with this Amazonian new acquaintance.
    “Oh, yes! It’s within walking distance of the university. The training studio isn’t far from here, either,” she explains. We walk for a while longer down the wide, busy streets, and then we turn a corner and Maggie points upward at a gorgeous old building with black, wrought-iron balconies jutting out from its stony face. “Home sweet home!” she exclaims, beaming.
    “Wow,” I breathe, tilting my head back to gaze up at the many stories. I had no idea we would be staying in such a gorgeous place. This looks like a movie set, like a postcard. I’m expecting a Juliet to appear on a balcony and call out for her Romeo at any moment.
    “I’m sure you’re tired of lugging that thing around,” Maggie comments, gesturing toward my suitcase. “Wanna go inside? I’ll show you our flat!”
    She leads me through a giant set of carved wooden doors and we climb several flights of shining marble stairs, my suitcase clunking along behind us. I’m nearly out of breath by the time we reach the sixth floor.
    “Yeah, the walk-up is a bit of a hike. But just wait until you see the inside!” Maggie remarks. We walk down a long hallway to room 608, where she takes out a key and opens the door to a spacious, airy apartment. My jaw drops instantly.
    Everything is decorated in stark, clean whites and pale powder blues, with quaint little fixtures and floral designs on the molding. The ceilings are surprisingly high, and as I walk into the main living area, I am stunned nearly to tears by the sight of a massive, wall-to-wall set of windows. I rush over and look down to see that our apartment overlooks the street below, as well as a blooming green park across from us. Thin, gauzy white curtains are draped at either side of the wall of windows, pulled back to let in the lovely sunshine. I spin around and gawk at Maggie, who is also beaming excitedly.
    “Isn’t it wonderful?” she says, clasping her hands in front of her.
    I nod vigorously, still at a loss for words. There’s a soft white sofa and two straight-backed blue armchairs with carved wooden legs. I can see the tiny kitchen area back toward the entrance, a line of gleaming white counters and minimalist appliances