Page 8 of Hot for Her Italian Mafia

“Yes.”

“What did he want?” Luca scans the distance.

“I don’t know.” I lower my head, awfully uncomfortable by the interrogation. Did I do something wrong? Did I upset Luca? Maybe I shouldn’t have brushed off my attacker’s advances the way I did. There are a lot of sickos out there. But if I had to keep an eye out for everyone who makes a rude comment, I’d never be able to close them.

I feel like I’m back at school, getting punished for not doing my homework with the way he’s pushing me. It’s the wrong type of punishment, if that’s what he’s after. I’d much rather have a corporal kind. Those strong hands testing the resilience of my ass with a few hard slaps.

“Josie.” He knows my name? My heart flutters at hearing it from his lips. “You have to tell me what you can. I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

“What you’re dealing with?” I raise a skeptical brow.

“What we’re dealing with.”

“Why do you even care?”

Luca faces me squarely. His primal eyes shimmer with fury as they meet mine.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.” Luca speaks with the same intensity he used on the guy who jumped me. “It could’ve ended badly if I wasn’t here.”

He’s incredibly invested in whatever this is…for a man I’ve never met.

That’s when those feelings of doubt trickle back in. If he was scoping the Sunken Sailor out, of course, he’d know who I am. A man in his position could get any detail he wanted on everyone who worked there.

Worse than that, I suppose, what if he’s targeting an acquaintance of the prick who jumped me? I’m just a middleman in some dirty job Luca’s running.

A weak sigh leaves my lips. “Why are you here?”

Luca left the bar at least an hour before closing time. What reason would he have to stick around? Especially outside.

“Let me take you home.” He ignores my question.

He grabs my wrist and starts to walk, but I break free.

“No. I’m not going anywhere until you answer me. You know my name, you’re on my street, and you just beat the shit out of some guy because of me.”

“Josie,” he says hoarsely.

His guttural tone strikes my core, and orgasmic euphoria tickles the intimate spot between my legs.

“You’re following me, aren’t you?” I make the bold accusation.

The question breaks Luca’s stern façade with an awkward blink.

“Why?”

“It’s not what you think,” he says.

He has been following me. It’s hard to believe tonight is the first time. The timing is too perfect.

No, Luca has trailed me for a while. I can tell by his discomfort. The way he shrugs off my questions and tries to fight his urge to spill whatever’s rattling around in his head.

“Then tell me.”

“You won’t understand.”

“You don’t know that. Not until you’ve tried me,” I say.

I take a step closer to him.

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