Page 11 of Ruthless Mafia Heir

I take a stroll around the block, letting the unseasonably warm sunshine warm my face. I just need to kill an hour until she’s done, and we can celebrate together. I’m already thinking about suggesting dinner somewhere. Hopefully, she’s excited enough about her new job to let her guard down a little and say yes.

She’s a smart girl, though. And I can’t help but wonder how long it’s going to be before she clocks on to the fact that I’m pulling the strings, orchestrating it to come together the way I want it to. Does she care? Has she already figured it out? And if she has, does that mean I’m the one being used right now?

As I pace around the block, I hear a voice calling my name.

"Blake! Blake Devereaux, is that you?"

I sigh and glance around. Sure enough, there’s a girl strolling toward me. I feel like I should know her name. She smiles and waves as she closes the distance between us, and it clicks—Amber, one of the daughters of the Salieri family. The two of us had a fling a year or two back, and she got her claws into me and refused to let go. Took her finding a new lover to lose interest in me, but I guess he’s out of the picture now, judging by the way she’s approaching me.

She tosses a long curtain of blonde hair over one shoulder and hits me with a veneered smile.

"It’s so good to see you," she tells me as she leans up to give me a hug. "I think about you all the time, you know, Blake. Maybe we could get together for dinner sometime...?"

"I don’t think so." My words are blunt, surprising even me. I usually play the game a little more kindly than that. Her face is naked surprise, and she quickly tries to wipe it away, playing like this is what she expected.

"Well, you just let me know when you’re free again," she tells me, planting a playful hand on my chest. "I’d love to catch up. I think there’s a lot I could show you..."

Normally, this kind of open flirtation from a woman would have quirked my interest. But there’s only one girl I give a damn about right now, and it’s still another half-hour till I get to see her again.

"I need to go," I tell her bluntly. She narrows her eyes at me.

"Are you meeting someone else?" she demands.

I sigh heavily. "Does it matter?”

Her jaw clenches, and she finally turns on her heel and stalks away from me. Good. I don’t need her influence or anyone’s right now. No, there’s only one person I care about, and that’s Sophia.

I lean on my car outside the restaurant as I wait for her to emerge. And when she does, there’s a huge grin on her face.

"I got it!” she exclaims, and I try to look suitably surprised and impressed.

"That’s great news," I reply, and before I can say another word, she tosses her arms around me and hugs me tight.

"I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you," she murmurs against my shoulder. I lift my hand to her waist, feeling the soft curve of her beneath my touch. For the barest second, I think about coming clean to her. I could just tell her everything right here and now, spill my guts to her and let her know the truth of the influence I actually have over this place.

But as she pulls back and I see the way she’s beaming, I know I can’t do that. I can’t ruin this moment for her.

"Thanks, Blake." Her eyes are bright with excitement.

"Anytime. Can I take you out for a drink, to celebrate?"

"I’d love that," she gushes, not even pausing to second-guess it. "And after my first paycheck comes in, I’ll be getting the drinks, huh?"

I chuckle. "Sounds good to me."

Though, at the back of my mind, I know I’ll always make sure she is reliant on me. There’s no way I’m going to let this control slip through my fingers—and no way I’ll allow her to escape my grasp. Not when I have her right where I want her.

Not when things are starting to fall into place.

Chapter Seven—Sophia

"Order up!”

"Coming!" I call back to Raul, one of the chefs who works in the kitchen at Finiesco’s Parlor, as I head toward the kitchen to grab the food he’s just dished up. The deliciously savory scent drifts up from the plate, and I inhale a deep lungful before I take it out to the waiting table.

"Here you go," I announce, laying out the food in front of the new guests. One of the guys, a little drunk, grabs my arm more tightly than he needs to.

"You know," he slurs. "If girls this pretty had always been working here, I would be way more of a regular."

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