Chapter 1

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

PART 1

I never expected my own family to be the reason I felt ashamed of existing.

But when my mother told me I would be sitting at table 12 near the kitchen at my sister’s wedding dinner, I realized something painful.

She wasn’t worried about me feeling uncomfortable.

She was worried about other people seeing me.

And the worst part?

She wasn’t the first person who had made me feel like I was something that needed to be hidden.

My name is Sadi Miller.

I was 28 years old, working fourteen-hour days in a mansion where nobody knew my favorite color, my dreams, or even the fact that I had once wanted to be an artist.

They only knew one thing.

I was the maid.

The woman who cleaned after powerful people.

The woman who disappeared into the background.

The woman nobody noticed.

Except that night, at exactly 2:00 in the morning, I broke.

The Rossi estate was silent.

Too silent.

The kind of silence that made a person feel like they were the only human left in the world.

The kitchen was enormous, all white marble, polished steel, and expensive appliances that probably cost more than my entire apartment.

But at that moment, it felt like the loneliest place on earth.

I stood beside the sink, scrubbing a heavy cast-iron pan until my hands burned.

My feet were swollen.

My shoulders ached.

My fingers were red from hot water and cleaning chemicals.

I had spent the entire day serving people who never looked me in the eyes.

That was my life.

Invisible.

Useful.

Forgotten.

Then my phone buzzed.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

I already knew who it was before I looked.

My mother.

I wiped my hands on my apron and opened the messages.

The first one immediately made my stomach tighten.

“Are you still bringing a plus one tomorrow? I need to tell the caterer. It’s $150 a plate, Sadi.”

Then another.

“Chloe is already stressed. Please don’t make a scene by showing up alone.”

And then the one that hurt the most.

“Derek and his fiancée will be at table 4. I put you at table 12 near the kitchen so you don’t feel awkward.”

Near the kitchen.

Those three words stayed in my mind.

Because I knew what they really meant.

Stay away from the pictures.

Stay away from the important people.

Stay where nobody has to explain who you are.

I stared at the screen until my vision blurred.

Derek.

My ex-boyfriend.

The man who had once promised me forever.

The same man who had looked at me two years earlier and said something I never forgot.

“I need someone who takes care of themselves.”

Three months later, he was engaged to a woman who looked exactly like everything society told me I wasn’t.

Slim.

Perfect.

Effortlessly beautiful.

And tomorrow, I would have to sit in the same room as him.

Alone.

I placed my phone face down on the marble counter.

I tried to tell myself I didn’t care.

I was 28.

I paid my own bills.

I worked hard.

I survived.

But somehow, one message from my mother could make me feel like that insecure teenage girl who always wondered why she was never enough.

I looked at my reflection in the dark window above the sink.

The woman staring back at me looked exhausted.

My hair was messy.

My uniform was plain.

My eyes looked older than they should.

For years, I had tried to make myself smaller.

Take up less space.

Speak quieter.

Apologize more.

Because the world seemed to reward women who were easy to ignore.

And tomorrow, I was walking into a room full of people who had already decided I didn’t belong.

I turned on the faucet.

The water ran over my hands.

Warm.

Steady.

The only thing keeping me from falling apart.

Then the tears came.

Quietly at first.

Then all at once.

I covered my mouth, trying not to make a sound.

I didn’t want anyone to hear me.

Especially not him.

Roman Rossi.

The owner of the house.

The man everyone whispered about.

The man employees avoided looking at for too long.

Nobody knew exactly what Roman did.

They only knew he had power.

A dangerous amount of it.

I had learned one rule since working in his mansion:

Never ask questions you don’t want answers to.

I wiped my tears quickly.

But nobody was there.

Nobody cared.

So for the first time in years, I allowed myself to admit the truth.

“I can’t do this.”

My voice cracked.

I grabbed the edge of the counter.

“I can’t walk in there alone.”

The words felt embarrassing.

Pathetic.

Like I was admitting defeat.

Then I whispered the sentence I never thought I would say out loud.

“I need a boyfriend by tomorrow.”

The kitchen went silent.

Completely silent.

And then—

A voice answered.

Low.

Calm.

Too close.

“What time is the event?”

My entire body froze.

The blood drained from my face.

Slowly, I turned around.

And that was when I realized something terrifying.

I had not been alone.

At the far end of the kitchen, sitting in the shadows, was Roman Rossi.

Watching.

Listening.

The most intimidating man in Chicago had heard every word I said.

“Mr. Rossi…”

My voice barely came out.

“I—I didn’t know you were there.”

He didn’t move.

He just looked at me.

His eyes were impossible to read.

Not anger.

Not amusement.

Something else.

Something I couldn’t understand.

“I asked you a question, Sadi.”

His voice was quiet.

But somehow, it filled the entire room.

“What time is the event tomorrow?”

I looked away.

“It’s nothing. Just my sister’s rehearsal dinner.”

I reached for my phone.

“I was just talking to myself.”

But before I could move, Roman spoke.

“Table 12. Near the kitchen.”

My hand stopped.

My heart dropped.

He knew.

He had seen the messages.

The humiliation came rushing back.

“That’s private.”

The words escaped before I could stop them.

The second they left my mouth, I regretted them.

Nobody spoke to Roman Rossi like that.

But instead of getting angry, he simply watched me.

Then he placed his glass down on the counter.

The sound echoed through the kitchen.

A small sound.

But it felt like a warning.

“You make my coffee every morning at 5:30.”

I said nothing.

“You remember exactly how I take it.”

His eyes stayed on mine.

“When federal agents searched this house last month, everyone panicked.”

A pause.

“You kept cleaning.”

I swallowed.

“It’s my job.”

“No.”

Roman stood.

Slowly.

Calmly.

“You’re loyal.”

He walked around the island.

“You’re quiet.”

Another step.

“You don’t ask questions.”

He stopped a few feet away.

Then he looked directly at me.

“And tomorrow, you need a boyfriend.”

I didn’t understand.

“What?”

Roman’s expression didn’t change.

“Someone to sit beside you.”

A pause.

“Someone to make the people at table 4 regret underestimating you.”

I stared at him.

Because there was no way I had heard him correctly.

Then he said the words that changed everything.

“I’ll go with you.”

I laughed once.

Not because it was funny.

Because it was impossible.

“You?”

Roman Rossi.

The man whose name made people lower their voices.

“You want to come to my sister’s dinner?”

“Yes.”

“As my date?”

He looked at me.

“No.”

A beat.

“As your boyfriend.”

The room suddenly felt smaller.

I didn’t know what scared me more.

The fact that he was serious…

Or the fact that a small part of me wanted to believe him.

And then Roman said something that made my entire body go cold.

“Because I know exactly why you need me there.”

I stared at him.

“What do you mean?”

He reached for my phone.

Not aggressively.

Not forcefully.

He simply turned the screen toward me.

And then he said:

“Because tomorrow, Sadi, everyone who made you feel invisible is going to see exactly who was standing beside you.”

But before I could answer, Roman’s phone suddenly vibrated.

His expression changed.

Just slightly.

For the first time that night, I saw something different in his eyes.

Concern.

He looked at the message.

Then looked back at me.

And the next words he said made me realize this was never just about pretending to be my boyfriend.

“Sadi… we have a problem.”

Chapter 2: The Double-Edged Favor

Roman’s thumb slid across his phone screen, darkening it before I could catch a glimpse of the notification. The subtle flicker of concern in his deep gray eyes vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, replaced once again by that unreadable, obsidian calm.

“What problem?” I whispered, my pulse thudding heavily against my ribs. “Mr. Rossi, if this is some kind of dangerous joke, or if you’re involved in something that—”

“It isn’t a joke,” Roman interrupted softly, stepping closer until the clean, crisp scent of cedar and expensive linen washed over me. “And the problem isn’t mine, Sadi. It’s yours. Or rather, it’s about to be solved.”

He held up his phone briefly. “My security detail just informed me that your ex-fiancé, Derek, holds a junior investment portfolio at one of the subsidiary banks my family oversees. He’s spent the last six months begging for a meeting with my managing directors to secure venture capital for his firm.”

I stared at him, my mouth slightly open. “How do you… how do you know that?”

“I know everything about the people who step into my periphery,” Roman said calmly, as if stating that the sun rises in the east. “Derek wants power. He wants status. And tomorrow, he is going to watch the man who holds his entire financial future in the palm of his hand pull up a chair beside you at table twelve.”

My throat felt bone-dry. “Why would you do this for me? I’m just the woman who vacuoms your rugs and fixes your espresso.”

Roman leaned in slightly, his gaze dropping to my hands—still damp from the dishwater—and then rising back to my eyes with an intensity that made my knees weak.

“Because for two years, you have moved through this house with absolute grace, carrying the weight of a world that taught you to apologize for taking up space,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, hypnotic register. “And because I despise men who treat diamonds like glass.”

Chapter 3: Table Twelve

The waterfront restaurant in downtown Chicago was bathed in warm golden light, brimming with soft violin music, crystal stemware, and wealthy guests in tailored tuxedos and silk gowns.

At table 4, near the center dance floor, Derek sat with his arm draped around his slim, immaculate fiancée, laughing loudly with my mother.

And at table 12—nestled right beside the swinging kitchen doors—I sat alone, smoothing the fabric of a deep emerald velvet gown that had been delivered to my room at 4:00 PM along with a velvet box containing a real diamond necklace.

My mother walked over, her eyes sweeping over my dress with a mixture of annoyance and suspicion. “Sadi, why did you buy something so flashy? You’re drawing attention. And where is this ‘friend’ you said was coming? The caterer is about to clear the first course.”

“He’s running a few minutes late, Mom,” I said quietly, trying to hold on to my dignity.

“Of course he is,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Derek was just saying how sad it is that you’re still struggling to find stability. Honestly, Sadi, you should have just come alone instead of making up stories—”

The heavy oak doors of the restaurant swung open.

The background chatter in the room didn’t just fade—it died instantly.

Standing in the entryway was Roman Rossi. He wore a bespoke charcoal tuxedo that emphasized his broad shoulders and commanding height. Two burly men in dark suits stood discreetly behind him near the doors.

Roman’s eyes swept the room, completely ignoring the stunned, frightened gazes of Chicago’s high society, until his eyes locked onto mine at table 12.

A slow, deliberate smile touched his lips. He walked straight past table 4, past my gaping mother, past Derek whose glass froze halfway to his mouth, and stopped right beside my chair.

Roman bent down, resting one hand gently on the back of my chair, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my cheek.

“Forgive me for keeping you waiting, my love,” Roman said, his deep voice carrying effortlessly through the dead silent room. “Traffic from the helipad was abysmal.”

Chapter 4: The Shift in the Room

My mother looked like she had lost the ability to process oxygen.

Derek stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor. “Mr… Mr. Rossi?” Derek stammered, his face turning an ash gray. “Sir, I… I’m Derek Vance. I’ve sent several proposals to your capital group—”

Roman turned slowly, looking at Derek as if he were an insect that had somehow landed on his lapel.

“I know who you are, Mr. Vance,” Roman said, his voice dropping into a lethal, quiet register. “And after reviewing your character, I’ve decided my firm will not be extending any capital to your group. In fact, we’ll be liquidating our existing positions in your firm by Monday morning.”

Derek went completely pale, grasping the edge of table 4 to steady himself. “What? Why? Sir, if this is about business—”

“It’s about judgment,” Roman cut in smoothly, resting a protective hand over my shoulder. “A man who lacks the intelligence to appreciate true worth in his personal life cannot be trusted with my money.”

Roman turned his back on Derek, pulling out the chair beside me and sitting down. He took my shaking hand in his, bringing it to his lips and kissing my knuckles softly, right in front of my mother, Derek, and every single guest who had spent years treating me like an afterthought.

“Move our table to the center of the room,” Roman instructed the head maître d’, who practically tripped over himself rushing to obey.

Within minutes, our settings were moved to the best table in the house. My mother spent the rest of the evening trying to get near us, but Roman’s security detail politely turned her away, ensuring I enjoyed my meal in absolute peace.

Chapter 5: No Longer Hidden

At 1:00 AM, the Maybach pulled up to the gates of the Rossi estate.

Inside the quiet, warm leather interior of the car, I looked down at my hands, still processing the surreal blur of the night. Derek had been ruined, my family was in utter disbelief, and for the first time in my twenty-eight years, I felt like a human being who mattered.

“Thank you, Mr. Rossi,” I whispered softly. “I… I don’t know how I can ever repay you for what you did tonight.”

Roman turned to me, reaching out to gently unclip the heavy diamond necklace from my neck. His fingers brushed against my skin, sending a warm shiver straight down my spine.

“You can start by calling me Roman,” he said quietly. “And you can stop wearing that maid uniform.”

I blinked. “What?”

“I didn’t go to that dinner tonight to play a game, Sadi,” Roman said, his gray eyes searching mine with absolute sincerity. “I went because I was tired of watching the most remarkable, loyal, and beautiful woman I’ve ever met hide herself in my kitchen.”

He took both of my hands in his, squeezing them gently.

“You’re not going back to scrubbing floors, Sadi. Starting tomorrow, you take up as much space as you want. Right beside me.”

I looked into his eyes and realized that the girl who used to hide near the kitchen was gone forever—and the man holding my hands was never going to let me be invisible again.