Page 12 of Rescued By the Mafia

His brow pinched. “No, Snapdragon. A prisoner is locked in a room, usually chained to a wall, and brought scraps of food if we feel they need to be kept alive. I don’t keep prisoners in my home or in any other place attached to my name. More importantly, you would have every freedom. You could come and go as you desired, make friends, invite them over or visit them. You could launch your own business if you wanted, or spend your time pursuing hobbies. Whatever makes you happy.”

She twisted her hands in front of herself. “I won’t be a prisoner again. Not for a second.”

Dante moved forward, catching her hands and covering them with his. “I have no intention of imprisoning you, Iris. This is a choice you must make. Not a chain to wear.”

Anxiety twisted inside her chest. It was all so sudden. What he was asking was not a small thing, and what he was saying should have petrified her. What kind of man announced himself as a mob boss?

“Stay away from men like that, baby,” Paul suddenly whispered from the depths of her memory. “Guys like them only take care of themselves. They don’t care who gets hurt along the way. And eventually, guys like me have to put them down.”

She sucked in a breath and shoved the memory down before any associated feelings could rise with it.

That particular day, not even a full year after she’d foolishly moved in with the man she’d once thought was so charming, Paul had taken her out to meet up with a friend of his. He’d been in a decent mood, until they’d encountered a trio of passing motorcyclists enrobed in matching leathers. One of the bikers had held a door open for her and said something entirely innocent and friendly, so she’d smiled in gratitude, lost in a moment’s thought that the man who looked so rough on the outside displayed better manners than her own badge-carrying boyfriend. Her smile had ruined the day for all of them.

“Iris?”

She blinked, clearing her vision, and realized her hands were still swallowed in Dante’s larger ones. “I—” If Paul had hated those bikers so much, he would certainly be livid to learn she’d stumbled into the arms of a man who might be actual mafia. The thought made her want to giggle. Her lips twitched. “So then, would I be free … to keep working?” He’d never answered her question about that and she wasn’t sure if it was an oversight or if it had been deliberate.

Dante raised her hands, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, and slowly released them. “We may have to discuss the subject of your employment in more detail, but for now, yes. If you want to continue on at The Dragon’s Roast, I won’t stand in your way.” His expression hardened. “That will have to change no later than the day you leave this room behind. I won’t have my woman serving other men, or anyone else.”

He really needed to stop sending her heart out of orbit like that. Iris licked her lips. “What about my other job? I mostly do behind-the-scenes work there.”

“Craft Happens, is it?” He let out a low, almost thoughtful, hum. “If it brings you something, then as long as it’s safe, I don’t have an issue with it.”

She couldn’t stop herself from giving him a look. “It brings me money. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but I’m not a wealthy woman. I’m in fact incredibly poor. Between a few groceries and the three Ubers I’ve had to take the last two days, that beautiful tip you gave me is gone. I’ve got maybe enough money left to get one more ride within Newark city limits, depending on the time of day.” As she spoke, realization dawned.

She’d planned her afternoon meticulously. Go to garage, pick up Corolla, return to apartment, prepare for evening shift. Her stomach rolled. There was no way she wouldn’t be humiliatingly late at this point! “Actually, speaking of work, I’m going to be late. I got so distracted with the car I forgot I have a shift tonight.”

She could feel the panic building. Would Dante think she was walking out on his offer if she left now? Was she? Had he been literal—walk out now and walk out forever? And beyond that concern, how was she supposed to get back to her stupid, vulnerable, hopefully empty apartment with time enough to throw on her uniform? Let alone time enough to then catch a ride she couldn’t afford all the way over to the restaurant!

Dante settled a hand at the small of her back and turned her around, aimed toward the double doors a few feet down the hall. He walked, moving her with him, and pulled his phone from his pocket simultaneously.

Iris opened her mouth to protest—confused and flustered on multiple levels—but they were already crossing the threshold into a room that dwarfed the one she’d been given. It stole her breath and drew her eye without even trying with its high ceilings, beautiful furnishings, and dark, masculine aesthetic. She shouldn’t have found it so soothing, but stepping into this space felt like stepping into a shelter designed not just to house her, but to defend her.

Dante encouraged her to settle on the two-seater sofa in the veritable living room off to the left, but his words clearly weren’t for her. “Iris Jayne is going to miss her shift tonight. Things came up, I’m taking care of it. If you need another hand, I’ll send Carlo in.”

Iris finally tore her sweeping gaze from the room, knowing her cheeks were flushed as she realized she’d been staring at the massive four-poster bed, and gaped up at Dante. He sat beside her on the sofa and stretched his free arm out behind her, not holding her to him but giving her the option of sitting close or leaning away.

She fought the urge to lean in, but couldn’t bring herself to scoot closer to the opposite side, either.

“Good,” Dante said after a beat. “Yes, she’ll appreciate that. Let me know if an issue develops.” He pulled the phone from his ear and tucked it away, turning to face her. “Your shift tonight’s been switched to the day after tomorrow. You won’t lose any money.”

Her struggle was immediately forgotten and her mouth dropped open. “Just like that?”

Dante chuckled. “Just like that, Snapdragon. I do own the place, remember.”

Iris bit her lip, confliction twisting her stomach. Was she entering into a relationship with her boss, then? Even though Dante hadn’t been the one to hire her? And did that even matter considering what he actually did for a living?

Dante settled his hand at her nape, his touch warm and heavy and instantly exciting. “Iris. You need to be careful how freely you tempt me.” His thumb stroked slowly over her skin, raising goosebumps in his wake.

It was probably dangerous to meet his gaze again, but she was drawn to his eyes. “I-I’m worried the financial thing will become an issue between us,” she said quietly. “Maybe right now it’s something you don’t mind overlooking, but I have to work two jobs just to keep my old car running. I’ll probably have to get a third to buy a replacement. That’s—”

“You’re overthinking, Iris.” He gave her neck a gentle squeeze with his words, then released her and stood, holding out his hand to help her back to her feet. “From now on, you work only because you want to. Because it gives you something more than pocket money. A sense of worth, maybe, or a way to pass the time—whatever the thing is. The one reason you do not work is because you need to.”

Iris frowned. “Dante, I told you. I’m poor.”

“Yes, you said that.” He pulled out his phone again. “How much would feel like a comfortable starting number for you?”

“Excuse me?”

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