“I Need a Boyfriend by Tomorrow,” the Plus-Size Maid Whispered—And Her Mafia Boss Heard Everything

The Naperville Country Club was a sprawling, overly manicured palace of glass, fake marble, and polished brass. As Roman pulled the matte-black SUV up to the valet stand, two young attendants in crisp white vests practically tripped over themselves trying to open the doors.

Sadi stepped out onto the cobblestone drive, her legs feeling like lead.

Before she could take a single step, Roman was at her side. He didn't just offer his arm this time; he wrapped one large, heavy arm securely around her waist, pulling her flush against his side. His massive hand rested firmly on the curve of her hip, claiming her completely in front of the valet staff.

"Deep breath, Sadi," Roman murmured near her ear, his warm breath fanning the stray hairs at her neck. "You are with me tonight. Act like it."

They walked through the grand double doors of the banquet hall. The room was bathed in soft, ambient light from brass chandeliers, overflowing with white roses, crystal champagne flutes, and the loud, shrill chatter of sixty well-dressed guests.

Almost instantly, the chatter began to die down.

It started near the entrance and spread across the room like a quiet wave. People turned, champagne glasses hovering midway to their lips, eyes widening as they took in the striking pair. Sadi Miller—the quiet, overweight older daughter who washed dishes for a living—had just walked into the room attached to a man who looked like an intimidating Mediterranean prince.

"Sadi?"

A sharp, shrill voice cut through the room.

Sadi suppressed a groan as her mother, Eleanor Miller, glided across the carpet. Eleanor was fifty-five, dressed in an aggressively tight silver mother-of-the-bride dress, her blonde hair sprayed into a rigid helmet. Right behind her was Chloe, the bride, looking pristine, tiny, and visibly annoyed that the attention had momentarily shifted away from her.

Eleanor’s eyes darted frantically from Sadi’s green dress to Roman’s massive frame, her jaw practically unhinging. "Sadi! You... you actually came. And you..." Eleanor trailed off, completely speechless as she looked up at Roman’s imposing height and custom suit.

"Mother, Chloe," Sadi forced a polite smile, leaning into Roman’s side for physical support. "This is Roman."

Roman didn't offer a polite, subservient smile. He stood like an absolute monarch accepting an audience with peasants. He extended his right hand, grasping Eleanor’s fingers with just enough pressure to make her wince slightly. "Roman Rossi. A pleasure, Mrs. Miller."

Eleanor’s eyes practically popped out of her skull. "Rossi? As in... Rossi Logistics and Real Estate?"

"Among other ventures," Roman said smoothly, his hand sliding right back to Sadi’s waist, pulling her closer so her soft hip pressed directly against his hard thigh. "Sadi has told me so much about you. Though she neglected to mention how... particular you are about seating arrangements."

Eleanor flustered, her pale cheeks turning a mottled red. "Oh! The seating! Yes, well, there was a clerical mix-up with the event planner—"

"We're at table 4," Roman stated smoothly, cutting her off with absolute authority. It wasn't a request; it was a decree. "I had my assistant call the manager of this establishment an hour ago to rectify the error. He was more than accommodating."

Chloe narrowed her eyes, stepping forward. "Table 4 is for immediate family and the groom's inner circle, Mr. Rossi."

Roman slowly shifted his pale gray eyes down to the bride. The sheer, chilling coldness in his gaze made Chloe instantly step back half an inch. "I am Sadi's partner. That makes me immediate family. Unless there is an issue?"

"No! No issue at all!" Eleanor squeaked nervously, shooting a warning glare at her younger daughter. "Table 4 is wonderful! Right this way!"

As Eleanor scurried off to harass the catering staff, Roman guided Sadi toward the large round table near the center of the dance floor.

Sadi felt as if she were walking through a dream. But as they approached table 4, her heart seized in her chest.

Sitting at the far side of the white tablecloth was Derek.

He looked almost exactly the same as the day he had walked out of her apartment: neat hair, a slightly boxy gray suit, and a soft, soft jawline. Sitting beside him was his fiancée, Amber—a toothpick of a woman wearing a beige silk dress, picking at a single stick of celery.

Derek looked up from his wine glass. When his eyes landed on Sadi, his expression was smug, prepared to offer the familiar, condescending nod he saved for her. But as his eyes moved to the massive man standing behind her—the tailor-made suit, the deadly aura, the possessive hand gripping Sadi’s green dress—Derek literally froze, his glass hovering inches from his open mouth.

"Derek," Sadi said, her voice remarkably clear and steady. "It’s been a while."

Derek swallowed hard, his face flushing crimson as he scrambled to stand up. "Sadi. Hey. Yeah... a long time." He held out a limp hand toward Roman. "I’m Derek. Sadi’s... old friend."

Roman didn't take the offered hand. He stood tall, looking down his sharp nose at Derek as if he were a minor stain on the carpet. "Roman Rossi."

"So, Roman," Derek said, his voice cracking slightly as he cleared his throat, trying desperately to reclaim his masculine composure. "How do you two know each other? Sadi usually... well, she doesn't usually go for guys who dress like they're in a movie."

Before Sadi could formulate a lie, Roman leaned down slightly, resting his chin near Sadi’s temple, his broad hand sliding down her back to rest firmly on the small of her waist.

"Sadi manages my private residence in Lincoln Park," Roman said, his deep, gravelly voice echoing across the table so clearly that three neighboring tables fell completely silent to listen. "She is the only person in this city with the intelligence and competence to keep my life running smoothly. Naturally, I realized very quickly that letting her out of my sight for a single day was an unacceptable risk."

Sadi’s breath hitched in her throat. Her cheeks burned with a deep, furious blush, but inside her chest, something powerful and triumphant burst wide open.

Derek stared at them, his mouth opening and closing like a landed fish. Beside him, Amber dropped her celery stick back onto her plate with a small, pathetic click.

Roman pulled out a gilded chair for Sadi, waiting until she sat down before leaning over her shoulder to whisper in her ear, his lips brushing the shell of her earlobe.