Page 35 of Mistletoe in the Mafia

“Alright, Flowers. Let’s try it your way, then. Friends,” he says in agreement.

I beam. “Wait, Flowers? Is that a nickname? What happened to Mr. I-don’t-ascribe-to-nicknames-because-they’re-unnecessary-for-interpersonal-relationships?” I ask with raised eyebrows.

“Flowers isn’t a nickname.” He smirks. “It’s more of a description of you. Plus, it’s similar to your last name, Flores. But I’m not a big fan.”

“Of my last name?” I ask, feeling a rush of something go through me.

He nods once. This entire conversation is bizarre as hell.

“I prefer cacti to flowers,” I tell him.

“Don’t worry, Madelyn, flowers can have thorns as well,” he says, almost reassuringly. “That’s why it suits you so well.”

I blink, watching him for an incredibly long moment. He doesn’t move a muscle under my scrutiny, keeping up his easy, emotionless expression.

What is it about you, Dominic? Why do I constantly feel so drawn to you?

CHAPTER 9

Dominic

“Ihave a question,” Madelyn starts, stepping through the doorway of my office awfully early on a Friday morning.

I was in the middle of taking off my jacket. I turn to look at her as she saunters in, her every curve on display in one of those tight dresses she insists on wearing at the expense of my sanity.

“Yes, you should absolutely knock before walking into my office, Flowers. Glad I could help,” I say dryly.

“The door was open,” she points out.

“You could still knock.”

“Whatever,” she says, brushing off my complaint. “This is serious, Dominic.”

She’s acting a little too hyper for eight o’clock in the morning.

“How many cups of coffee have you had already today?”

She pauses to think about it, then replies, “One… and a half.”

I level her with a hard look. “One day you’re going to drop into a coffee-induced coma and I’m going to have to find a way to wake you up.”

“That’s actually kind of sweet,” she says, her lips twitching.

I roll my eyes. “What’s yourseriousquestion, Flowers?”

“Oh, right. Which one do you prefer? Tinsel or glitter snowflakes for the corner of your desk?”

I stare at her like she’s grown two heads. “What are you going on about now?”

“I noticed there weren’t any Christmas decorations in here so I’m taking it upon myself to inflect some festiveness. So, tinsel or glitter?”

“Neither,” I deadpan.

“Tinsel it is, then,” she says on a grin.

“Keep your paws away from my office, Madelyn.”

“Uh-huh, I’m going to pretend to actually listen to you,” she states.

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