The Mafia’s Price:Bound By Debt
We collided and staggered back in the direction we came from.
“What is wrong with you?” I asked annoyed, and the maid immediately aware of what she did, bowed deeply and apologized.
“I’m very sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to hit you intentionally —it was because I was hurrying out of the boss's room.”
“Hurrying out?” I questioned, rubbing my temple.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, with fear in her voice, as if she had just escaped a real life nightmare.
“Why?” I asked.
“The boss is in a very bad mood,” the maid replied, after taking deep breaths.
Bab Populer