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

recessed in a smartly-lit alcove.
    “Where’s the bedroom?” I ask, and Maggie guides me to a little room off to the right. It’s a bit tight, with two twin beds pushed against opposing walls, but it’s very cute. Just like the rest of the flat, the walls are a milky white and the floors a deep, natural hardwood. We both have white bedspreads with blue quilts folded on them — and here I realize that I’m rooming with a girl who actually makes her own bed every morning instead of leaving it a mass of tangled sheets like I do.
    The bathroom is connected to our room through a door with a crystal-blue novelty doorknob. It’s fairly standard, with a pedestal sink and a shower stall. The floors are bright white marble, however, and so highly polished that I can nearly see my reflection.
    “This is amazing,” I gasp, turning back to Maggie. She toys with the end of her flouncy ponytail, looking nervous once again.
    “I —I’ve never had a roommate before. In fact, I’ve never really had a lot of friends,” she admits, her eyes riveted to the floor bashfully. “Oh, that makes me sound pathetic, doesn’t it?”
    “No, no,” I assure her. She’s blushing furiously, her cheeks patchy with rosy splotches.
    “It’s not that I don’t like other people or anything. I’ve just always been so busy with gymnastics, of course, and then there’s the homeschooling thing…”
    Ah, there it is. That explains everything.
    “I understand,” I tell her, walking over to pat her on the arm. “I’ve only had a few close friends, my whole life, and they were gymnasts, too. It’s hard to get out and meet people when you’re so focused on the future.”
    “Exactly,” she says, looking a little relieved. She seems to soften instantly, her stiff edges melting away.
    “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never had a roommate either. I’ve only ever lived at home with my parents. This is totally new for me,” I go on, walking over to my bed and sitting down. Maggie follows suit, perching on the edge of her bed.
    “Me, too. I have to confess that my parents are a little, um, overbearing,” she describes, twirling the tip of her ponytail. “I love them and I know they have my best interests at heart, but they’ve never really let me do my own thing. This is the first time they haven’t been right behind me telling me what to do every minute of the day.”
    “How does it feel? Having all this sudden freedom?” I ask, pulling my legs up to sit cross-legged on the bed.
    Maggie chews her lips thoughtfully for a moment, then replies, “It’s a little scary. I mean, I’ve been to Paris before, but never on my own. My parents only just left yesterday to go back to Chicago. I thought they’d never leave…” she trails off.
    I laugh, “Yeah, mine aren’t that bad, but it’s still kind of liberating to be able to do whatever I want, whenever I want. Or at least I assume it will be.”
    “I’ve only had less than twenty-four hours of freedom but I haven’t done much with it yet,” Maggie sighs. “I spent the whole morning being too afraid to leave the apartment alone until I finally worked up the courage to go to campus and meet up with you.”
    Suddenly, my cell phone chirps, alerting me to a new email. It’s a message from Pavlenko, informing me that my training will start first thing tomorrow. My heart sinks momentarily. I was hoping to get a little more time to settle in and see the city before jumping right back into the wham-bam schedule of training, studying, and more training. I have no illusions about what this career will mean for me: constant exertion, single-minded focus, and no time or energy for much else. And I’ve accepted that, since I have to.
    But damn, I was hoping to at least see the Eiffel Tower first.
    “What’s that?” Maggie asks.
    I sigh and slump back onto my bed. “Looks like my training picks up tomorrow.”
    “Oh, yeah, they don’t give you a lot of time.”
    “Yea... Are