Page 7 of Mafia Wars

“Where do you want to eat?” I repeat, slower this time. I let the faintest hint of amusement creep into my tone, just enough to let her know I’m not asking to be difficult. I’m serious.

Her brow furrows, and she blinks, clearly struggling to process. “Uh…there’s this little restaurant not far from here. It’s…nice.”

“Good.” I give a single nod. “Let’s go.”

And just like that, I start walking again, leaving her to scramble to keep up. Whatever she thought this was going to be, it’s not that.

I take the keys out of my pocket and hit the fob; the Audi flashes to life, unlocking the doors. I walk around to the passenger side and open the door for Luna. She’s hesitating again, chewing on her bottom lip as I stand as patiently as I can until she finally gets in, and I close the door after her.

Once I’m in the car, we roll down the long driveway. In the distance, I can see my cousin Jack's house not far from mine. It’s huge and dominating, just like him. We have never seen eye to eye, yet my father always seems to put us together on jobs.

We pass the opening gates and make our way into town. Luna doesn’t speak a word until I pull up at the restaurant she had suggested.

“If you are going to fire me, you don’t have to do it over dinner.”

I ignore her remark and kill the engine. “Let’s go,” I say, and she gets out.

The dark, baggy clothes don’t do her justice. Underneath the fabric, I know she’s a knockout. The kind that could ruin a man—ruin me, if I let her.

Still, I can’t stop looking. Her skin catches the faint glow of the streetlights, a soft shimmer on her collarbone where her hair brushes against it. She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth nervously, the action causing my cock to twitch.

The small diner at the corner is nothing fancy, but it’s buzzing with patrons and just enough noise to drown out our words so no one can eavesdrop.

The waitress greets us with a tired smile and drops off menus. I don’t even open mine. My attention stays locked on her, the way she chews the inside of her cheek while reading.

“You’re staring,” she says without looking up.

“Can’t help it.”

Her gaze flicks up, meeting mine, and for a moment, I swear she softens.

I lean back in my chair, watching her carefully. "So, tell me about yourself," I say, my voice steady but curious.

Her shoulders tense instantly, and I catch the flicker of hesitation in her eyes. She glances down, fiddling with her fingers. "What do you want to know?" she asks, her tone guarded. "It was all in my CV."

I let out a quiet chuckle, shaking my head. "Never got around to reading it," I admit, making a mental note that I will—later. I don’t miss the way her lips press together, her expression unreadable.

She shrugs as if the answer is insignificant. "I’m an only child. Grew up in the heart of Dublin. Didn’t really get along with my parents, so… I left. Started a new life down here. That’sabout it." Her words are clipped, rehearsed even, and there’s something off in the way she avoids meeting my gaze.

I notice the tension still lingering in her shoulders, the slight twitch of her jaw. She’s leaving something out—I can feel it. "And you’ve always wanted to be a cleaner?" I ask, my tone light, but there’s an edge to the question.

Her head snaps up, and for a brief moment, I see the flicker of indignation in her eyes before she looks away. "I’m a qualified nurse," she says flatly.

A nurse? I wasn’t expecting that. "Really?" The surprise in my voice is impossible to hide. "Then why aren’t you working in a hospital?"

Her eyes narrow, her lips pressing into a thin line. "It’s complicated," she mutters, her tone making it clear she doesn’t want to elaborate.

Complicated. I don’t buy it, but I let it slide for now. The truth will come out eventually—it always does. Still, the thought nags at me. If she’s qualified, I could pull some strings, get her a position at any hospital she wants. But the idea of letting her go…it sits uncomfortably in my chest. I don’t say anything, keeping that thought to myself.

Instead, she shifts the conversation, her voice softer now. "What about you?" she asks, her eyes finally meeting mine. There’s curiosity there, but also caution, like she’s unsure if she really wants to know the answer.

“Ask me any question; I'm an open book.” I grin and open my arms wide for her.

The waitress appears. “Are you ready to order?”

I glance at Luna. “I’ll have a vegetarian sandwich and a coffee.”

The waitress scribbles the order down and glances at me.

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