Page 12 of Mistletoe in the Mafia

“Are you going to hurt me?”

“I could,” I answer honestly.

“Oh, well, you already had a front row seat to what my fists are capable of.”

I almost—almost—crack a smile at that.

“You’re right, though. Most people would be terrified. But I don’t know, I just don’t feel scared. That’s crazy, isn’t it?”

“Certifiably insane,” I agree.

She shrugs. “I’ve heard worse. Anyway, I should probably go. Thanks again for saving me.”

I watch as she climbs out of bed only to stumble and fall back into it. “How are you feeling?”

“A little lightheaded.”

“Why? You didn’t lose that much blood,” I state. “You should be okay.”

“It’s probably because I haven’t eaten all day,” she explains.

My eyes narrow. “You haven’t eaten all day.”

“I had two donuts,” she offers enthusiastically.

For the love of…

“Get up,” I order. “Slowly, this time.”

She does, gently rising to her feet until she’s standing in front of me. There’s, like, a foot of space between us. Her floral scent surrounds me again. Her hair falls over her shoulders in waves. She’s about 5’7”, which is about a couple inches shorter than me.She comes up to my shoulders. She pulls her brown duffle coat tighter around her body, looking around my room awkwardly.

That I even brought her in here in the first place is something I’ve been trying and failing to wrap my head around.

“Now what?” she asks.

“Now, I’m going to cook you something to eat. And you’re going to eat.”

She smiles, looking up at me. “You know, you’re pretty bossy. Which is a shame considering your good looks.”

Jesus, does this woman say everything that’s on her mind?

Since I don’t have any reply to that, I simply walk off in the direction of my kitchen. I hear her footsteps following behind me.

“Do you live here alone?” she asks. When I don’t reply, she continues. “It’s a pretty big space for one person. I’m guessing you’re rich. Which is so not fair considering how you look. God definitely has favorites.”

I arch an eyebrow when her rambling comes to an end. She’s looking at me from the other side of the island.

“What would you like to eat?”

She shrugs. “I eat anything.”

“And yet somehow you don’t actuallyeat.”

She grins. “Yeah, that’s pretty accurate.”

I make a low noise of acknowledgment before pulling out the ingredients to make mac and cheese. It’s pretty simple and quick. She watches as I turn on the stovetop and put on a pot of water, staying silent while I add the macaroni and some salt to the boiling water. That takes five minutes. Five minutes of silence until she speaks again. I don’t think she’s good at silence.

“So, question, why wereyouin that alleyway tonight? It just seems weird that you happened to be there at that time.”

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