Page 11 of Mistletoe in the Mafia

“Yeah. Those three dickwipes cornered me in that alley. I was teaching them a lesson until one of them cut me with a knife. And then you showed up and kicked their asses without breaking a sweat. That was pretty cool, by the way.”

So she remembers everything despite being in that shell-shocked state? Interesting.

“Yeah,” I say in agreement, “and then I brought you here. To my house. Cleaned up your wound, bandaged it.”

She looks down at her arm as if just remembering that she was wounded. As I said, her wound has been wrapped around in a bandage. She didn’t flinch when I sewed it up and cleaned itwith antiseptic. I could have taken her to the hospital, but that would have drawn too much attention.

“Thank you,” she says softly.

We both fall silent for a couple of moments before I ask, “What’s your name?”

“What’s yours?” she returns almost immediately.

A little too defensive. Still, I answer, “Dominic.”

“Madelyn,” she murmurs. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Why did you go into that alley?”

She blinks. “What?”

“The alley. Why did you walk in there knowing you were unarmed and without any means of protection?”

“My fists were protection enough. At least until that feckless dick decided to play dirty,” she says, her green eyes growing fierce.

And then the look disappears. I feel an odd hollowness at the sight.

“Don’t do that again,” I tell her.

“If I don’t have to I won’t.”

“You didn’t have to walk into that alley tonight, did you?”

Her lips thin. “I was trying to take a shortcut. And why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“Good.”

I study her for a beat. I don’t spend a lot of my time socializing with other people, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t the direction this conversation was meant to go.

“Aren’t you scared?” I question.

“What do you mean?”

I cross my hands over my chest as I stare down at her. She is quite unlike literally anyone I’ve ever met.

“Some stranger in an alley carries you home and puts you in his bed. Most people would be terrified—blood still freshon their skin, trapped in a stranger’s home. But you? You’re unshaken. Like this is normal for you. Why?”

“Have I been kidnapped?” she asks.

I pause. “No.”

She waves a hand in front of her. “Well, then there you have it.”

“You’re not scared I’m going to hurt you?”

Ocean-green eyes meet mine, but there’s no spark. I need the spark.

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