Page 78 of Mob Queen

Her intense eye contact could be unsettling, but considering she’s asking about my house and not Frankie, I’m not worried. “Corruption runs deep.”

“Audit my books. You’ll see everything is above board. I’ll even open up my personal finances, again, for you to see that I have nothing to hide.”

“You could’ve hidden it.”

“Am I being investigated?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

If they scratch the surface, it’ll be an easy find to see I’m in a relationship with a mob boss. Well, I think I’m in a relationship with her. I don’t know what we are. “Whatever you need, let me know. I’m more than happy to provide you with documents, accounts, whatever you need.”

Emma writes something then shuts the notebook before I can see. “Thank you, Mr. Miller. I’m sure we’ll speak again soon.”

Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.

* * *

“How was your day, dear?” Frankie is waiting by the door with a drink for me.

I look her up and down and crinkle my forehead. “This is something I never thought I’d see.”

I extend my hand to take the drink. “Are you sure it’s not poisoned?” Her features darken, and a part of me is now worried. She slugs the drink back in one go and smirks. “It wasn’t, and it wasn’t for you.”

“I should have known it was too good to be true.”

“So you want a submissive housewife to be waiting for you when you return from work. Do you want a foot rub too?” her voice is eerily calm.

“If you’re offering.”

“Pffft.” She turns and heads toward the dining room. “You should give me a foot rub.” And just like a fucking horny teenager, I follow her to the dining room. “I did wait for you so we can eat dinner together.” She looks toward the kitchen. “Mya, we’re ready.” I sit at the table and loosen my tie. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Hmmm.” Frankie stares at me. “What’s happening?”

“Work, that’s it.”

“Who do I need to kill?” She moves to stand, and I know she’s deadly serious.

“God, Frankie. No one. Don’t worry about it.”

“Then whose palms do I need to grease?”

“What are we talking about?” Frankie’s brother asks as he pulls a chair out and looks over his shoulder. “Elena, dinner.” He waits until she’s seated, then pushes her chair in. “Who’s on the take?”

“No one,” I say as I pinch the bridge of my nose.

Elena meekly sits at the table, her long hair falling like a barrier around her face. “He won’t let me kill anyone either.”

I release a huff as I stare up at the corner of the ceiling. In what ultimate universe have I fallen into? Talking about killing people and paying them off is not a normal conversation. “No one needs to die, and no one needs to be paid off.”

“Trust me, there’s plenty of people who need to be killed,” Frankie says. “I’ll get through the list.”

“I’m not hearing this.”

“Why, are you deaf?” Rome asks and smirks. “She said that…”

“I get it,” I say as I lift my hand to stop.

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