Page 19 of Mob Boss's Second Chance

“I wouldn’t ask you foranything.I don’t even know who you are.”

It’s a crush on Henry’s ego, and his face contorts into an ugly sneer. “Bitch,” he mutters under his breath.

“What did you say?” I move closer to him, almost towering over his smaller figure.

He recants immediately, shaking his head. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

Then he turns around and walks away, but not before loudly calling Natalie degrading names. I start to follow after him with my fist curled, but she stops me—her fingers closing around my wrist. The unexpected contact sends a rush of warmth through me, and I glance back with an arched eyebrow.

“You don’t have to,” Natalie shakes her head. “I’m fine.”

She lets go of my wrist, but the feeling lingers. “I could’ve handled it myself… but thank you.”

My jaw clenches as I nod tightly. “You’re welcome.”

A faint smile touches her lips. “I should get back to work.”

I watch as she walks away, going further and further until she’s through the door. Sighing, I rub my wrist with my other hand, brushing my thumb across the path where her fingers were just a moment ago.

How?

How is it that she has such an effect on me? I’ve never been to dwell on things or people unless they directly affect the family’s business,but Natalie Monroe has wormed her way into my brain and under my skin.

Why else would her scent linger in her absence and her touch still my senses?

It shouldn’t be.

And it bothers me enough that I turn away. For the rest of the night, I deliberately included myself in a conversation I’d been avoiding—fraternizing with other party guests- to keep my thoughts away from her.

***

“Care for a drink somewhere else?” Anthony accosts me after the party as I head out.

I step away before he can throw his arm around my shoulder and give him a warning look.

He raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry. Force of habit. But a bunch of us are heading to the club to continue the fun. I know it’s not your scene, but I thought I’d ask anyway.”

“You have your answer,” I reply as I glimpse my driver standing by the car.

Anthony shrugs. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He wanders off, calling out to someone and then laughing. His laughter carries through the distance, and I shake my head with a slight distaste.

It’s as well that he didn’t turn out to be the family’s head.

“Home, sir?” The driver asks as he opens the back door for me.

“Yes, Paul,” I nod, getting in. He closes it and goes around. The car pulls away from the parking lot, taking a right onto a well-paved street.I lean back, intending to close my eyes, and take a short nap, when I see someone standing on the sidewalk.

The black and white dress has me sitting upright and peering out the window just as the car comes up close.

“Stop,” I say.

Paul stops. My eyes narrow as I stare at the person, trying—confirming—to see who it is. Then she turns, and I see Natalie.

What is she doing standing there? After our brief encounter earlier, she vanished from the event, yet somehow, I thought about her more times than I could count.

Each time she crossed my mind, I pushed the thoughts away, unwilling to entertain them.

It wasn’t until later in the evening that I noticed something odd: I avoided shaking hands with people using the hand she’d brushed. And she hadn’t even touched my palm.

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