Page 21 of Surprise Baby for the Don

She hesitates for a moment before taking the money, her fingers brushing mine briefly. The touch is electric, a quick, subtle spark that leaves me wanting more, though I mask it with a calm smile.

“Thank you,” she says softly, glancing up at me. “You really don’t know how much this means to me. All of it. This has been an amazing opportunity.”

I nod, holding her gaze, realizing that I’m not ready to let her go just yet.

“Next week, I would like twice daily reports on how the project is going,” I tell her. “Just to make sure we’re staying on track.”

Her eyes darken a fraction, her eyelids fluttering a bit, and now I know that she’s feeling this the same way I am.

“Of course,” she answers with no hesitation.

“I’m glad to hear it,” I smile, gently tapping the desk in a rhythmic pattern that betrays the nerves I feel around her.

After a beat, I decide to push my luck, tilting my head slightly as I ask, “What are you doing for dinner?”

The question catches her off guard, and I see a faint blush rise on her cheeks. She shakes her head, smiling a little as she replies, “I didn’t have anything planned.”

“Good,” I say, standing and extending a hand to her. “Join me tonight.”

For a moment, she hesitates, like she’s weighing the idea, but then she reaches out, placing her hand in mine. Her skin is soft, her grip firm, and as she stands, she gives me a look that tells me she’s still not sure what to make of me.

We exit the office, her hand still in mine, and it feels like it belongs there.

13

Ginny

Isurprise myself by agreeing to have dinner with Mateo. To be honest, at some point my brain shut down and my body took over. When he offered me his hand, I couldn’t help but take hold of it. It’s only as we’re walking out of the house and getting into the car that my brain catches up. The last time we had a meal together, I found him beating the crap out of someone.

Alarm bells go off in my head and I have to remind myself that Mateo is dangerous. He isn’t some crush from college or a random guy hitting on me in the diner. He runs a criminal organization, and he hurts people when they get out of line. These are the facts of who he is. But here I am, sitting next to him in one of his sleek black cars, a driver speeding through the city, purposely not paying any attention to us.

I look down and realize our hands are still intertwined. I drop his like it’s a hot coal and try to play it off by faking a cough.

The city blurs by, and I can’t help but sneak glances at him. He’s relaxed, leaning back, the hand I dropped casually draped overthe armrest. He catches my look and raises an eyebrow, and I quickly look away, embarrassed at being caught. But it doesn’t seem to faze him. In fact, a slight smirk dons his face, like he finds my flustered reaction amusing.

After a while, he breaks the silence.

“My first apartment is around here,” he tells me, pointing out the window.

Just a few blocks away.” He nods toward a street we’re passing. “Bought the building years ago, but never did much with it. I might have you take a look, see what you’d do with it.”

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “You’d trust me to design an entire building?” I ask, somewhat in awe. “That would be an interesting challenge.”

The car slows, and we pull up in front of a small, quiet bistro tucked between two large skyscrapers, like a magic portal waiting to be discovered. Mateo gets out first, coming around to open my door, and I can’t ignore the thrill that runs through me as I take his hand again to step out. There’s a newfound ease in his touch, a quiet confidence that makes it all too easy to get lost in the feeling of his hand wrapped around mine.

Inside, the restaurant is dimly lit, the tables set close together, classical music playing softly from hidden speakers. We’re seated at a corner table, and I realize how close we’re sitting, the way his leg is brushing against mine, how our table is somewhat secluded from the other diners. I tell myself to keep this professional, but the ambiance, combined with Mateo’s undivided attention, is wearing down my resolve.

I order a glass of wine to ease my nerves, and Mateo smiles, asking the waiter to bring the whole bottle. This time, I order aricher meal than the salad I’d ordered at our lunch a few days ago. I’m starting to realize that Mateo takes offense to frugality. He wants to treat me, so the polite thing to do is let him I suppose.

The food arrives, and it’s incredible, the flavors rich and vibrant. The wine is smooth, and with each sip, I feel myself relaxing more, the last few days fading into the background. I don’t know if it’s the wine, the atmosphere, or the fact that I’m sitting across from a man who somehow manages to be both dangerous and completely captivating, but something inside me shifts.

As we talk, the conversation slips easily between lighthearted topics and flirtatious banter. He’s effortlessly charming, his gaze lingering on mine, a hint of amusement in his eyes whenever I blush or stumble over my words. I keep telling myself to keep my guard up, to remember who he is, but I find it impossible to care. I’m here, enjoying myself, feeling more alive than I have in a long time.

As we finish our meal, I realize that I’ve drained at least three glasses of wine. When we stand up to leave, I stumble a bit, and his hands immediately shoot out to grab my waist, his touch warm. I lean into his touch, already intoxicated by the feeling of his hands around me.

He keeps one arm wrapped around my waist as he guides me out of the restaurant, into the chilly night air. It does little to clear my head. I can feel a pleasant warmth from the wine and the lingering taste of dessert on my lips. As we reach the parking lot, an idea sparks, and before I can second-guess myself, I turn to him.

“Can we go see your old apartment building?” I ask, my voice a little breathless.

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