Page 12 of Mafia Baby

“Women like me.” I correct him. “And sometimes us girls just need to let our hair down and go a little wild.”

“Girls like you,” he says back. “Should go be wild away from dangerous criminals lurking in the streets.”

I sigh. “All right, Dom.” I decide to use a nickname. I don’t know if he goes by Dom or not, but I don’t care right now.

“You seem to know what’s best for ‘girls like me’ better than myself or my parents.” I use air quotes to emphasize the mention of girls. I hate men trying to tell women where to go and what to do.

This type of conversation always riles me up. Except that when Dom says these things, I feel more protection than a condescending attitude from him. Still, I don’t know him, so there’s not much reason for him to be protective over me.

Before he can reply, my mother is in front of us, laughing about something that someone has told her as she passed them. The tension breaks as Dom smiles at my mother, and suddenly he seems like a different person.

“Dominic, you’ve met Gianna.” My mother comes up and puts an arm around me and tugs slightly, putting distance between us and him.

I look at her, confused. She usually takes any opportunity she can find to show me off to eligible bachelors in her circle, but right now, she seems to be shielding me from Dom instead.

“I have, Mrs. Bianchi. I was just wishing her a happy birthday.”

“I was asking Dom about places to go in the city, since it’s been so long since I’ve been home. And thought maybe he could show me a few.” I look directly at Dom, challenging him to contradict me.

“I’m sure Dom has much more important things to do, Gi. Don’t bug the man. Come and see what your great-aunt has sent for your birthday,” my mother interjects quickly, pulling me away from Dom before we can say anything more.

“Mom, that was rude.” I’m always amazed at how my mother’s manners only extend as far as she wants them to.

“It wasn’t rude, Gianna. Dominic didn’t look like he was enjoying that conversation anyway. You and he have nothing in common, trust me.”

Chapter Five

Dominic

This party isn’t what I imagined a twenty-second birthday to be. I didn’t have a party for most of my birthdays, but I figured when rich kids did theirs, it was a little livelier than this.

A garden party with cocktails and oysters is not what I would have wanted at twenty-two. I also don’t see anyone under the age of thirty besides Gianna.

I’m grateful when Will digs a few beers out of the pool house ice chest, and I turn down the oysters with apologies that I had lunch with my father. A lie, but there’s no way I’m slipping one of those things down my throat.

I know that the polite thing to do here is to stay around an hour before I make my escape, so I greet the Bianchis and then corner Will for a chat about the weekend’s sports games and how his business is going.

I tell him about the club and the possibility of buying another, and he shares his plans for a development on the outskirts of the city.

Our friendship has always been easy, motivating, and judgment-free, which is why I’ll always make an effort when Will asks me to attend to things.

It's not long before I’m left alone, though, and I use the time to scan the guests for anyone I might want to “bump into” on my way to the bathroom. I have to take care of business here before I go, or else the trip was largely a waste.

And then she approaches me. It’s the same girl from the club, only this time she looks fucking gorgeous in a tight black number and stilettos, skillfully gliding across the lawn like she was born walking in sky-high heels.

I’m shocked to see her here, but a little excited that there’s such a beauty to talk to. Until I realize who she is. Gianna Bianchi. Will’s sister. I should have guessed since she’s the youngest-looking woman here.

I know that she’s flirting with me, and my instincts tell me to play along.

She’s tempting in all the best ways, her curvy figure calling to the testosterone racing through me. But she’s a Bianchi, and I have respect for this family. I am already regretting fucking her in the club last night and I wouldn’t have done so if I had known who she was.

But damn, her body is still calling out to me, loud and clear. It’s hard to think about anything but the throbbing of my cock as she chats with me. I keep seeing her sucking me off while I pulled my belt tight around her slim neck.

She’s stubborn. And smart. I can tell she doesn’t take shit from anyone. I wonder how she ended up with such a fuck-up of an ex-boyfriend. As we’re talking, I try to keep my gaze neutral, but her pouty, maroon lips are distracting me.

Her mother comes to save her at the perfect time, and as I watch them walk away, I can see that Gianna is just a younger version of Mrs. Bianchi. It’s always interesting to see how a woman is going to look when they’re fifty-plus by looking at their mothers.

Gianna won the gene pool lottery, that’s for sure.

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