Page 15 of Mated into the Mob

He opened his mouth in a perfect O, and our eyes locked on one another. “Underneath that tough exterior, you’re a softie.”

Maybe. But I never showed it to anyone, and I convinced myself my hard-as-nails shell was the real me. Mostly it was.

“Not really.” I drained my cup and got up.

“You’re leaving?”

This human tugged at my heart, and his scent had my belly fluttering. While I didn’t want to work, I needed to clear my head and consider the immediate future. I couldn’t keep him locked up forever, but also, he couldn’t go back to his previous life. But the only punishment I wanted to give him was to bend him over my knee and smack his beautiful behind before I fucked him.

“Yeah.”

“Will you be sending Emilio here?”

“No.” Why would I do that? So he could bang up Tony more? That wasn’t happening.

“Please find out more about Antonio.”

He didn’t say “my father” or “my dad.” Maybe he was divorcing himself from the perfect memory of the man he never knew.

I may not be able to fill in the blanks and tell Tony how his father died. It may have been a natural death. But for sure I couldn’t say who he really was ‘cause that would break our pack’s code of silence.

How could I tell Tony his father was a shifter?

9

TONY

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Today? You have books, magazines, and TV.” He washed his coffee mug and placed it in the drainer. I liked that he was house-proud, or perhaps he needed to keep his hands busy.

“It doesn’t connect to wifi.” I shoved my legs out in front and crossed my ankles, wishing I could go to the gym or jog.

He side-eyed me. “You’re good at snooping.”

“Oh, really? Then how come I got caught?” I folded my arms, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Okay. You’re a shit snooper.”

“Thanks. Does that label come with a prize? Or a medal?” If we’d been an alpha and omega who’d met in a bar and struck up a conversation, I would have enjoyed our bantering.

He closed his eyes, and I could almost see him counting to ten before he opened them again. Perhaps my attitude and sass was too much and I was pushing him too far.

“Are you always like this?” He wiped his hands on the dish towel.

“Like what?” I genuinely wanted to know. It might be the last home truth before my life ended.

“Cocky. Your future’s uncertain and yet?—”

“Uncertain? You said uncertain.” I hung on that one word. “I thought it was guaranteed.”

He bit down on his lower lip, his eyes darting from left to right. I’d caught him out. He was having doubts about offing me. And that was a thumbs-up from me. But why? What had I done to deserve a reprieve?

“It’s just a word. It means nothing,” he spluttered.

“Sure means a lot to me. Last night my life hung in the balance, and now you’re dithering.”

“You are a smartass, but you’re wrong. And I do not dither.”

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