Page 27 of Ruthless Mafia Daddy

“I think I might need some help in the shower,” I murmur.

It’s no surprise that once again I pass out in the sheets as the moon is still high above Manhattan, snuggled next to Andre, his arms around me, keeping me warm.

His soothing heartbeat lulls me to sleep, and I hope that, come morning, perhaps this might not be over.

But when I wake not much later, the sun still not yet up, the spot beside me in the bed is empty.

“Does that man ever sleep?”

I climb out of bed to use the bathroom. As I cross the room, I pass another door.

Andre’s muffled voice comes from behind it.

I know I should just keep walking. I have no business listening in on his conversations, but curiosity gets the better of me.

What has got this man working at all hours of the night? Because he sure as hell didn’t give me an answer when we were sharing a ludicrously expensive bottle of champagne.

I hold my breath as I lean against the door to what I assume is a study and press my ear to it.

“How many times to I have to fucking tell you, Marco?”

I can tell he’s trying to keep his voice down, but there’s so much anger lacing his words.

“Dispose of it, now.”

Dispose of what?

“You only have a few hours before the sun rises.” There’s a beat of silence. “Well, it seemed to me that you needed reminding, seeing as you haven’t disposed of the fucking body yet.”

I blink, my blood running cold.

“I want Lorenzo Rossi to wake up to it on his goddamned doorstep.”

Lorenzo Rossi.

I know that name.

It was in a news article I read a few months back. I don’t remember the details, but I remember one word in the headline.

Mafia.

My feet are moving before my brain can fully catch up to what Andre is saying.

I step away, my heartbeat pounding in my ears, glancing around the bedroom.

The rustled sheets, the entire room reeking of sex. The evidence of what we did last night.

I let my body take over, moving around the bedroom in search of my clothes.

Dispose of a body.

I find my shoes and panties at the base of the bed.

I move into the living area and find my dress by the couch. Along with my purse.

Trying to stifle the strangled sob that is building in my throat, I find my phone safely tucked away inside it along with my wallet.

Without a second glance, I hurry to the private elevator and press the down button.

---