Page 7 of Assistant to the Mafia

Her breath caught in her throat. She knew he shouldn’t have kissed her, but she was too stunned by the fact that he had—and the vehemence with which he’d spoken such powerful words after.

Romeo blew out a breath that tickled her skin like little electric jolts. He leaned in again, slower, and ghosted his lips once more over hers. This time his lips were open, the kiss a little more lingering, but too light to be as wet as it should have. She unfroze with enough time to move her lips against his, somewhat, but she really could have done better. When he eased back the second time, he relaxed his grip of her as well.

Grace finally remembered how to breathe, her shocked excitement giving way to depressing reality. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered, twisting her fingers in her own skirt in order to keep them there.

He stared into her eyes, holding perfectly still. “No,” he finally said, “we really shouldn’t.” His words didn’t have nearly the same conviction as his previous statement.

Of course, she fully understood. And she hoped the lighting in the back of the SUV was just bad enough to keep him from seeing the stupid, humiliating tears of disappointment that built in her eyes at the heartbreaking feeling that came with that understanding.

three

Under the Skin

Romeo didn’t touch her again. Not that she had really expected him to. If she were honest with herself, somewhere in the back of her mind Grace had hoped he would rebel. That whatever it was that had compelled him to kiss her once was powerful enough to drive him to try again, in some way. She knew it was stupid, even childish. The remnants of a youthful, overly romantic optimism she apparently hadn’t fully stomped out.

Those remnants sure felt stomped out by the time she settled into her seat at the table beside her usual boss, all her supplies in order for the afternoon’s meeting. Lunch was over an hour behind her and still it was as if something were stabbing into her chest with every intake of breath. She was glad not to be running this meeting, but only responsible for quietly taking notes so Dante could focus on commanding the room.

She watched as stoically as she could while the room filled with men in suits. Most of them lean or too pudgy, most of their suits impeccably fitted, all of them less impressive both in stature and in presence than the man hosting the meeting. Equally less impressive than the man who’d kissed her in the back of his chauffeured SUV not two hours earlier.

Get your head straight, girl. This was not the time to be wallowing. She could do that after work, alone in her upscale apartment.

Grace managed to tune in by the time the meeting itself began. Her favorite thing about the meetings her boss personally ran was the comparative lack of fluff. He didn’t allow idle chatter to take over the room for any length of time, instead always making sure the room’s attention was where it most needed to be. This talent of his also made it easy for Grace to keep to her task of observing the others and noting important responses, as well as any new or otherwise significant information. Despite being seated directly at the table, she may as well have been invisible in groups such as these.

The meeting was fully underway when Dante went unexpectedly silent. She lifted her head, pen poised, and turned slowly toward her boss to find him scowling at his phone.

Generally he disapproved of cell phone use in meetings, but he owned multiple independent businesses and had a pregnant wife, so there were plenty of reasons he needed to keep his on. It was still rare for him to interrupt himself long enough to catch attention. Rare, but not altogether unheard of.

“Gentlemen, if you’ll give me just a moment.” He cut his stare to Grace. “Grab your things,” he said, tucking away his phone and starting toward the door.

My … things? Grace refused to look around the table or otherwise acknowledge the flush of embarrassment she could feel burning her cheeks as she hurried to scoop up her materials. She hesitated for a moment, but chose to leave the binder that pertained specifically to the meeting. There was no other place she could have need of it, and if she was about to lose her job, she certainly wasn’t taking it home. I’m not about to lose my job. Unless somehow Dante had heard about the kiss, then she supposed it wouldn’t be out of the question.

She met Dante on the other side of the conference room door, tablet, notepad, phone, and pen set clasped against her chest. “Is something the matter, Mr. De Salvo?”

He slid a brief glare down the hall. “Romeo’s meeting isn’t over yet,” he said. “I need you step in and take over for him. Something’s come up elsewhere I need him to handle for me.”

Grace blinked. She opened her mouth to ask him to repeat himself, but managed to catch the words before they escaped and swallowed them back. It didn’t matter if the request was strange, it still fell within the parameters of her job. She’d heard horror stories of much weirder, more questionable asks than that. “Of course, sir.” She paused for a beat, fingering her notebook. “Should I leave my notes?”

Dante was already reaching for the door. “No.” He slipped inside without another word.

She dragged in a breath, turned, and marched down the hall. At least she had some idea what Romeo’s meeting was about, so while coming in halfway through was unappealing, she was sure she could manage. It was just … going to be awkward. Not unlike their lunch had ended up being.

She had no business feeling rejected when she was the one who’d given voice to the problematic nature of anything happening between them. All he’d really done was agree, and respect her implicit wishes. She needed to do the same, for her own sake.

She still had to take an extra moment to push down her errant emotions before tapping sharply on the door, counting to five, and poking her head inside. Businessmen didn’t like to be interrupted, let alone barged in on.

As she’d expected, a room full of only semi-familiar faces—three of them actually female—swung around to her. Nearly all of them with some degree of visible displeasure. Romeo, standing at the head of the table and therefore across the room, blinked once at her before lifting his hand to the group at large. “Just a second, please,” he said, already striding around to greet her. He lowered his voice as she pushed the door wider. “Grace, is something wrong?”

She waited until the door was closed again, offering them a semblance of privacy. As long as they spoke softly. “Something seems to have come up, and I’m told you’re needed elsewhere. He didn’t give me specifics, but it seemed urgent.”

Romeo scowled. “I’ve got at least another twenty minutes here.” He was already dipping his hand into his coat, where he probably had his phone.

“I’m to take over,” she said as matter-of-factly as she could. “I saw the notes this morning. I’m sure I can handle this for you.”

He lowered his phone to his side without looking at it, studying her instead. A shadow of a smile softened his expression after a beat and he said, “I’ll trust it to you, then.” He took a half-step forward, at an angle to walk past her, but instead leaned closer and dropped his voice to a murmur. “Call me if you have trouble.”

Something about the tone of his voice, or the way his words whispered against the shell of her ear, sent a delicious shiver rolling down her spine. The breath caught in her chest and all she could do was watch as he strode away without even a backward glance.

Grace gave herself a shake, shifted her armload to the crook of her elbow, and stepped into the conference room. She pretended not to be mildly offended at the looks of irritation and building outrage on the other professionals’ faces as she quietly walked around to the position Romeo had abandoned. His notes weren’t even open, and she found that endearing somehow. She liked a confident man.

---