Page 43 of Ruthless Mafia Daddy

I’m no better than I was at fourteen when I had a crush on a senior at my high school because he smiled at me once in the cafeteria. I was obsessed until the day he graduated and left for college.

Did I consider following him to Stanford? Yes, I did.

Thankfully, Cassi was there to get some much-needed sense into my thick head.

Fuck. Maybe I could do with Cassi right now as my thumb, once again, hovers over unblock.

“Get a fucking grip, Lila.” I shut my phone off and put it down as I stand in front of my bathroom mirror. “You have bigger things to focus on.”

Like the purple bruises under my eyes, the grayish tint on my skin, the lack of color in my cheeks.

Food poisoning sucks. Granted I’ve been off work the last few days, but I had hoped that after getting a full eight hours last night, rather than waking every hour to chuck up my guts, I’d look at least a little better.

I was wrong.

I sigh as I start swiping concealer under my eyes. “Never. I repeat, never, buy sushi from a seven eleven again. You hear me, Lila Morano?”

Holy crap. I’m talking to myself. I’ve gone crazy. The batshit kind.

Pulling out my last clean work dress from my closet, I finish getting ready for work in a hurry.

I want to get in early before my boss does, to try and make up for the fact that I’ve been off sick the past four days. Granted, I’ve still kept up with as much as I could from home, but in my mind, it’s not enough. I worked hard for this promotion, I want to live up to the high standards I’ve set myself—food poisoning or not.

I will say, I was grateful for the distraction that being sick offered as it meant that I wasn’t as focused on Andre as I could have been. I mean, I still thought about him a lot, in between the puking marathons, but I was more of a lovesick puppy rather than a psycho stalker.

I haven’t dared google him again, too scared by what I might find. I want to keep the memory of him in the bar when he swept me off my feet as the one I think about, not the thought of him putting a gun to someone's head and pulling the trigger.

My stomach churns again at the thought, but I ignore it.

I don’t have time to fix my makeup if I throw up again, so I force myself to think of neutral things, like what shoes I’m going to wear, to stop myself from spending the next hour hugging the toilet.

I swear, this is the longest bout of food poisoning I’ve ever experienced, but I think it’s just the universe’s way of trying to teach me a lesson. From now on, I will eat nothing but kale and chickpeas, and the occasional donut. And maybe pizza.

“Don’t think about food,” I groan, forcing a brush through my tangled mane. It really needs a wash but I haven’t had the energy to do my full hair care routine, so I’m opting for the slick back bun, which I hope makes me look chic and put together rather than dirty and ill.

Throwing a light sweater into my bag, along with my laptop and heels, I slip on my trainers and head out the door, breathing in the crisp morning air as I start walking toward the subway.

It’s barely seven in the morning, but the sun is up, and the air is still chill enough that I pull my sweater out of my bag, knowing that in a few weeks it’ll be too humid for anything other than shorts and a tank top.

I decide to give Cassi a call as I walk. Normally, we see each other multiple times a week, but with me being sick, we’ve barely caught up, and I miss her.

“Hey, stranger,” I say as Cassi answers the phone. “I’m surprised you actually answered. It’s too early for you to be up.”

“Never went to bed.”

I can’t help but laugh. “You’re crazy. Where are you now?”

“Walking down fifth. Fancy getting coffee before work?” Cassi works for a top marketing agency a few blocks over from my office, which makes it easy for us to grab a cocktail or two after a long day.

“Oh, I’d love to, but I need to head in early. Make up for all the time I’ve missed.”

“You’ve still been sick?”

“For like four days, it’s ridiculous. I don’t want Max to regret giving me this promotion?—”

“Lila, stop. You’re allowed to be sick. You’re not a robot. Give yourself a break already.”

I let out a long breath, my shoulders sagging as I start heading down the steps to the station.

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