Page 49 of Mistletoe in the Mafia

“I meant after all the time he’s spent searching for someone he cares about as much as he does you,” she says in correction.

“Oh,” I murmur, not believing her in the slightest. This is the confirmation I’ve needed, that Dominic’s appearance in my life is more than a little suspicious.

“But do you want to be, though?” Carly questions.

“What?”

“In a relationship. With Dominic.”

I shrug, thinking about all the time we’ve spent together, especially about that kiss two days ago. I can’t stop thinking about the way my chest felt like it was about to explode. And how being in his arms was the safest I’ve felt ever.

I don’t really have an answer to Carly’s question, so I just choose not to say anything. I order another drink, this timestraight tequila in a shot glass. She watches with an inquisitive expression as I down the shot.

“He’s not a bad person, you know,” Carly starts. “Dominic’s been dealt a bad hand in life. He’s been through so much. And I know he can be a bit of a dick.”

That causes me to snicker.

“But I promise, if you give him a chance, you won’t regret it.”

“You’re like the devil’s advocate,” I say on a smile.

“He’s not the devil, though,” his friend points out amicably.

I sigh softly. “I know, he’s a shadow.”

She seems surprised, but it’s true. From what I’ve been able to glean, he and I are similar in that regard. I’m a ghost, Dominic’s a shadow. Shadows thrive in darkness, and I guess I’m just not sure why or what put him there.

“Precisely,” Carly murmurs. “Anyway, we’d better stop there before this conversation grows too dark.”

I laugh. “I agree. Enough about Dominic. How about you tell me a little bit about yourself? What do you do for work?”

“Oh, I’m a doctor,” she informs me, leaving me momentarily shocked.

“Are you serious? That is so cool.”

So she’s not only drop-dead gorgeous but also smart? Damn.

“Yeah. I’m a pediatric surgeon. I take care of little kids.”

I stare at her for a couple of seconds with wide eyes. “Carly, I think you’re my hero.”

She giggles at that. The two of us talk for what feels like hours. Until, all of a sudden, someone decides to turn on the speakers. I squeal when one of my favorite songs starts playing.

“Carly, we have to danceee,” I say, slurring a bit as I grab her hand and pull her onto the dance floor.

I might stumble a bit on the way, but that doesn’t matter because the combination of alcohol in my system and the music has all my worries flying away. Carly and I are jumping andscreaming the lyrics to Katy Perry’s “Last Friday Night.” I’m laughing my heart out and it’s the most fun I’ve had all week.

Then two guys step in between us, effectively cutting us off from each other. I catch a brief look of panic on Carly’s face. She’s shaking her head and mouthing something to me, but the guy in front of me steps even closer, leaving me unable to figure out what she’s trying to say.

“Hey beautiful,” the guy says.

He’s kind of good-looking. Maybe a year or two younger than me, with cute blue eyes and black curly hair.

“Hi,” I say, too giddy from the alcohol to worry about stranger danger—plus, he has a charming smile.

“You’re a pretty good dancer. I’m Matt.”

“Madelyn,” I tell him. “So, Matt, you got moves?”

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