Page 4 of Betraying the Mafia Boss

“Okay. That’s it!” Isabella throws a hand over Naomi’s mouth. “You talk too much.”

She licks her lips when our eyes meet and all I can think about is how I want to taste her lips. “You should go, Vincent. And just in case we don’t meet again, thank you for taking care of those children. I meant it.”

I nod at her, then turn around and start for the elevator. I like Isabella, and by like, I don’t just mean I’d like to fuck her. She’s interesting and I like that she doesn’t cower in front of me.

We’ll definitely be meeting again.

And soon.

Chapter Two

Isabella

“For goodness’ sake, Naomi. Did you really have to tell him all of that?” It’s been exactly fourteen months since I last dated anyone, and Naomi hasn’t given up on trying to find me a boyfriend.

I have to admit, I commend her resilience in finding me a life partner, but I’d appreciate her not telling every handsome man who cares to listen, that I haven’t been laid in over a year.

Especially not Vincent Romano.

“You’ll thank me when it finally works out between you two.” Naomi trims a few rose stems. “He’s young, hot, rich and kind, what else would you be looking for in another man?”

“I know exactly who he is, Naomi. Believe me, he’s everything I do not want in a man.”

It’s true I know everything about Vincent Romano and I dislike him, but why did my heart stutter the way it did when he was near? My libido raised its ugly head in a way I didn’t like when he was close.

But that isn’t the only problem.

I’d noticed everything I shouldn’t have. Like the way his dark hair clung to his forehead, his cloudless sky-blue eyes and how goddamn handsome he was.

It’s inhuman for anyone to look that good. As if a pretty face isn’t sin enough, his shoulders were really broad and he has the perfect body build.

I could tell from the muscles poking out of all that white he was wearing that he looks like a literal God beneath his clothing. I wonder how big his…

This is wrong, Isa. Why would you be thinking of how big his…Don’t say it. No.

Naomi props her hip on the booth, resting her head on her hand. “Are you serious, Isa, or are you trying so hard to be difficult?”

“A bit of both.” I laugh and Naomi joins me, laughing even louder. If only she knew who I am beneath the surface…not her best friend or the kindhearted nurse everyone else thinks me to be.

If only they know.

Time flies and it’s evening. I’ve sold all my flowers and made a pretty good sum for the donation.

Naomi meets me in my now empty booth after she packs up what is left of the medical books she sold. She lifts a hand to cover a yawn, then she reaches behind and begins to massage her shoulders. She’s exhausted and probably hungry. Her foundation is smudged, giving her face an oily shine. Her almond eyes are half-closed and she looks like she’ll slip into sleep if she gets the chance.

I’m not one to talk, though. My feet ache and so do my shoulders. My stomach is growling, too. All I want to do right now is collapse on my bed after devouring a whole box of pizza.

I try to avoid carbs as much as I can, but I’m craving them a little too much tonight. I turn to carbs whenever I’m extra stressed and it’s not the charity event that’s stressing me out.

It’s Vincent.

He was nothing like they told me he was. I’d expected some notorious criminal who drowns puppies and kidnaps kids to pass time, not a kind-hearted, absurdly gorgeous thirty-year-old who buys flowers for children with cancer and spends most of his free time touring the wards.

I’m not certain I can do this.

Naomi loops her arm through mine and rests her head on my shoulder. I’m five-foot-seven while she’s five-foot-five, so her head fits perfectly on my shoulder.

“Seriously, Isa, how do you manage to do it?”

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