Page 64 of Assassin's Obsession

His smile is like a naughty boy getting caught as he nods in agreement.

How? He's got my apartment bugged?

Unsure how I feel about that and fully aware that my first reaction isn't absolute dismay, I say, "Mario told my mom I was going home with you."

"And she was neither surprised, nor upset by that news." Angelo doesn't even try to hide how pleased he is by that.

If he's been listening in on our conversations, he knows I've been talking about him to her for weeks. Mom's one of the reasons I ventured into the VIP section to ask if the mafioso wanted a lap dance.

She says I need to go for it.

Of course, she doesn't know he's in the Cosa Nostra, or that he's cut men's hands off on my behalf. She wouldn't get it.

All she knows is that he's not like the other punters and I really, really, really wanted him to ask me out.

So, she buys the story Mario sells in the text stream that's supposed to be from me like it's a 50% off sale in the meat department.

"Mario told her that it's late, so I'm staying over at your place." He'd even sent a picture of the mansion with me in front of it.

I have no idea how he managed that feat of doctored photography, but it worked. Mom is not worried at all. Mario-me even told her to go to bed and get some sleep, just like I wouldhave done, if I really had been staying over with a guy I wanted to get to know better.

Like that's ever happened before.

Mom's last text makes my heart squeeze in my chest.

Mom:He must be something really special to have made it past your barriers of mistrust where men are concerned. I'm so happy for you, honey. But you tell him if he hurts you, he'll have me to answer to.

Mom uses the voice to text function because of her arthritis and I can hear her voice in my head as I read the words.

"Am I?" Angelo asks.

I look up from my phone. "Are you what?"

"Something really special."

"According to you, you're my soulmate," I remind him.

He leans down and presses his forehead to mine. "I want to know what I am according toyou."

"You know," I grumble. "You were listening."

He lifts his head so our eyes can meet. "Does that bother you?"

"Would it matter if it did?" That it doesn't is definitely a me problem. "I know you've been stalking me, but Mario's ability to impersonate me is next level."

"I told him what to say in the texts." Angelo makes it sound like that's the most normal thing in the world.

It's not.

"But how didyouknow what to say?" I press.

I mean, there's stalking and there'sstalking. Right?

He starts toward the stairs, showing no strain from carrying me. "You leave your phone in your locker when you dance."

I don’t ask how he got into the locker or the phone. A semi-decent lockpick would open the locker and my phone is an off-brand piece of crap that's at least five generations old. It would be a piece of cake for a guy like him.

"Okay, but how did you know that I've talked about you to my mom and sister?" Will he admit to bugging the apartment?

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