Maid To The Three Mafia Kings のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 31 - チャプター 40

Dread, an unwelcome but familiar guest, curled in Millie’s stomach as she approached Mr. Jameson’s office again. This time, unlike her first visit, she already had a good idea why she’d been summoned.It had to be about this morning’s… questionable outfit.A flash of Evan’s teasing grin and mock-innocent eyes rose in her mind, sending a different kind of flutter through her chest. Butterflies—far too many for comfort—took flight inside her.Well, if Mr. Jameson wanted to scold her, or worse, fire her outright, she had a perfect scapegoat: Evan Moretti. The smug little prince could answer for this one.She inhaled deeply, summoning her courage, and knocked.After an agonizing pause, Mr. Jameson’s clipped voice called out, “Enter.”Millie pushed open the door, steeling herself.As expected, Mr. Jameson sat behind his mahogany desk, every inch the figure of disapproval. His eyes swept over her in one long, assessing look, lingering on the gingham dress and its daring neckline. He let out

Millie felt a nervous flutter low in her stomach as she stopped outside Evan’s door, her hand hovering just above the ornately carved wood. It would be her first time stepping into his private space, and the thought left her both curious and unsettled. A little part of her hated how much she cared what his room might look like.She exhaled, steeling herself, and knocked lightly.“Come in!” His voice carried easily through the door, smooth as ever.With another breath, she pushed it open and stepped inside.The room was nothing like she expected.Sunlight streamed through a tall, arched window, spilling warmth across the space. The walls were painted a soft, neutral beige, clean and understated, and the furniture was a mix of polished elegance and rugged comfort, just like the man himself, she thought begrudgingly.In the center of the room sat a plush king-sized bed, covered in a forest green comforter and a chunky wool throw. A cozy loveseat faced the window, its cushions inviting. A

Millie eased the door to Aidan’s room shut behind her, careful not to let the latch click. The house was steeped in a deceptive calm, wrapped in a hush so deep it made her nerves prickle. The lights were dimmed to a sleepy amber glow, throwing long, lazy shadows down the hall that moved when she did. Every creak of the floorboards under her feet sounded louder than it should, and she forced herself to slow down, to keep quiet.Through the tall windows lining the hallway, she caught sight of the estate outside—and of the men. Armed guards in dark uniforms prowled the grounds in pairs, rifles slung but ready, their flashlights sweeping over hedges and paths with mechanical precision. Every so often, one would stop, scan the treeline, and murmur something into a radio clipped to his shoulder. Even in the muted garden lights—little spotlights at the bases of trees, classic lamp posts lining the walkways—there was no mistaking the tension threaded through the night. This wasn’t just watchf

The first rays of dawn peeked through the sliver of a window, painting faint stripes across Millie’s face. Despite only getting three measly hours of sleep, she was wide awake. The events of the previous night replayed in her mind like a whirlwind montage—the intimate moment with Aidan in his room, followed by the stolen moment with Evan that sent a blush creeping up her cheeks, leaving a confusing trail of emotions in its wake.Burying her face in the pillow, she muffled a scream. This whole situation was turning into a full-blown rom-com cliché, and she wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry.“What in the world is going on with you?” Andrea chirped, emerging from the bathroom.Millie shot upright, the memory of the locked door jolting her. “Why’d you lock me out last night?” she blurted out before Andrea could pry any further.Andrea’s smile wavered for a second before reappearing, wider than ever. “Oh, did I?” she feigned surprise, batting her eyelashes innocently. “Oh my gosh, Ame

Breakfast at the mansion that morning was a mini spectacle no one could have predicted. The entire staff watched, stunned, as Evan Moretti—yes, a freaking Moretti—helped the maids serve his brothers. Then, whispers about Aidan’s drunken outbursts and his altercation with Ethan rippled through the kitchen.As Millie and Clara moved through their tasks in silence, Andrea buzzed with theories. Her voice filled the kitchen, dissecting the events and weaving elaborate narratives about Evan’s motives and Aidan’s outburst. A shared glance passed between Millie and Clara, both amused and exasperated.Just then, Sheila entered the kitchen, her presence momentarily silencing the flurry of whispers. Andrea, seizing the opportunity, piped up, “So Sheila, what do you think is going on? I mean, Aidan drinking early in the morning...clearly something’s up. Is it about Marionne? It must be...”Millie perked up, hoping for any crumb of information about the mysterious Marionne.But Sheila shut down th