Page 61 of Mafia Wedding

Shit.

I feel like I've been thrown into a horrifying ocean of shit, and I'm just as horrified at the possibility that I might even hear more of those cringe-worthy lines in the future.

"How can you say that and still consider yourself sane?" I ask seriously. "It's the grossest thing I've ever heard."

"I know," he says with a grin. "But it got the job done, didn't it?"

What job? Is he an assassin now, and his first assignment is to have me die in disgust?

"You looked like you wanted to throw up when you realized you were blushing, and while you do look cute when you're grossed out—-"

Did he just describe someone like me as...cute? Not beautiful, but...cute?

"The thought of you suffering didn't actually sit that well with me—-"

Oh no.

"So I figured I should do something about it."

This is bad.

All those unexpectedly sweet and terribly misguided gestures of his finally make sense, and I look at him with genuine concern. "You're a killer with a soft heart."

"And that's a bad thing in your book?" His lips twitch at the end, but that only makes me worry over him more.

"It is very much a bad thing, yes." I look around us, and all the empty seats only adds to my gloom. "I know you've booked all the seats in this train, and I thought at that time it was great foresight on your part."

"Isn't it?"

"I thought you were doing it to have as few witnesses as possible, in case one of us ends up killing each other."

"But instead, you realize...what?"

"That you just wanted to avoid having any innocent people get hurt, what else?"

He starts to grin, but I shoot the attempt dead with a glare.

"There is nothing funny about this."

His gaze turns contemplative, and I see his hand start to move.

Oh no. Don't do it. No, no, no.

But he does end up doing what I fear: he's rubbing his jaw thoughtfully, and my body's reaction is also as I fear.

Sexy.

It's completely baffling why I find this gesture or this posture - oh, I don't even know what's the proper way to call it. The only thing I know is that my heart races like an idiot when I see him like this, and now it's even worse, with how he's also gotten my stupid toes to curl.

"You seem to understand how my mind works pretty well—-"

And that disturbs him, naturally. No one in his right mind would be happy when finding out their mind is an open book to someone like me.

—-while I can't even figure out why you wanted us to meet here. I want to be the one who understands you the most."

'Keep your enemies close, and your blind dates closer' is what he's basically saying, and no words have been truer.

"I get what you're saying," I feel obliged to acknowledge. "I know how you see me—-"

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