Page 11 of Mafia Baby

I shake my head slightly to bring my thoughts out of the gutter.

“Thanks. So…how do you know my family? Why don’t I know who you are?”

“Um, your brother and I are friends. Your parents have been very hospitable to me. I’ve done some…work for them.”

I don’t speak to my brother much, but this is not a friend that I have ever heard of. Seems my parents tried to adopt a surrogate second child after sending me away.

“They love being hospitable.” I look over at my mother, entertaining her many friends so effortlessly. “So, did they hire you to kill someone or something?”

“What?”

He looks so shocked that I laugh out loud. “You just don’t look like the rest of the people that my parents allow into this house.”

“I look more like a murderer?”

I just blink at him benignly. I’m kidding, but I figure that if he knows my parents due to “business”, he’s probably done something fairly shady for them.

“You know who I am, but I still have no clue who you are. What’s your name?” I ask quickly, trying to keep his attention. I don’t usually have to try this hard with men, but I’m willing to dig a bit deeper to find his interest. “You know mine, so it’s only fair that I know yours too.”

“Dominic.” He doesn’t mention a surname, and as much as I want to pry, I don’t want to ruin the moment and prematurely end the conversation.

“Dominic.” I roll the name around in my mouth. It suits him. It has a nice, forceful ring to it that seems appropriate.

I still don’t remember my brother ever mentioning him before. “Nice to officially meet you. Do you live near here?”

“In the city.” His hands are playing with his keyring. He is clearly fidgeting and unsure of what to do.

“Cool. What do you do?”

He looks at me with his brows furrowed. He knows that I know what he does. He told me he owns the club I went to last night.

I have no intention of giving away that we have met, not to this room full of family and friends. I also want to see what he might say. After all, if he has had business dealings with my parents, he doesn’t just own the club.

“I should get going,” he says quickly, turning slightly as if to leave.

“No, don’t go yet.” I lightly touch his arm. A jolt of awareness races across my skin. I suddenly remember what he felt like inside me, tearing me apart and sending me over the edge of powerful orgasm after powerful orgasm. “You don’t have to tell me what you do. I probably can guess anyhow. You know my parents, after all.”

“Then you didn’t need to ask,” he says, looking over my head at the other guests.

“Have you got any open positions for a college graduate at your club? I need to find a job now that I’m back in Chicago for good.”

“I doubt you need to work at a place like my club.”

“I’m bored.” I shrug and smile, giving as much flirty energy as I can spare without drawing too much attention.

His gaze is starting to make my cheeks warm, but hopefully that doesn’t show through too much. I can feel my panties getting wet and I subtly shift my thighs to try and ease the ache inside of me.

“I’m sure you are. Is that why you ended up at my club being harassed by a grotesque British man?”

I’m convinced this man does not know how to flirt.

“Guy is an ex-boyfriend, like I tried to explain to you at the club. I left him in London, but he followed me here. Thank you, though, for helping me deal with that, because he seems to be gone now.”

“That’s good.” He nods, looking genuinely relieved that Guy is no longer a worry.

“So, how often are you at work?” My flirting is also rusty, since I was with Guy for much of my time after school, but Dominic must see that I’m trying to connect with him.

“I am there most days. But you shouldn’t be. It’s not a place for girls like you.”

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