Page 20 of Mob Boss's Second Chance

“Paul—” I start to instruct my driver to continue past her, but I hesitate. I shouldn’t care why she’s standing alone by the side of the road, yet I can’t let it go.

I sigh, more to myself than to him. “Paul, could you find out what that lady is doing there?”

Paul casts me a curious glance but doesn’t ask questions. He nods and steps out of the car, striding toward her with his usual calm confidence. I watch from my seat as he approaches, noticing the way she hesitates before responding to him.

She’ll probably tell him off—stranger danger. Then, I wouldn’t have to worry about dealing with her presence in proximity. I wait for him to turn around and return with news, but Natalie starts walking towards the car.

My breath hitches as she gets closer, and my brain scrambles for an exit. She stops by the window and taps on the glass.

I clear my throat, schooling my expression before lowering it. From the slight widening of her eyes and the surprised head tilt, I can tell that she didn’t expect to see me.

Paul must’ve told her my name, but she thought he was lying.

“Mr. Cross. I didn’t think—I didn’t know it was you.”

“I assumed it was you,” I say, keeping my tone measured, “but I stopped because you looked like you were in distress.”

Which means I would’ve helped anyone else.

She sighs, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah. My crew left without me, and I didn’t drive to the party. I booked a ride, and he had me come out here only to cancel.”

This is the part where I call someone else, keep my distance, and spare myself whatever this is.

But instead, I hear my voice, low and restrained, breaking through the space between us. “Get in. Paul will take you home.”

Natalie’s eyes widen, and she waves her hands, shaking her head quickly. “Oh, no. You don’t have to do that. I’m sure I’ll find a ride. I haven’t been waiting that long.”

Her words sound confident enough, but she’s shuffling on her feet, trying to hide her discomfort. My gaze drops to her shoes and catches on the broken strap of her heel. She must notice because when I look up again, guilt clouds her face.

“I’ll be fine,” she insists, her voice softer now.

This should be my out. This is where I nod, roll up the window, and mind my own business. But something tugs at me—a weight I don’t want to name, much less acknowledge.

“It’s no trouble,” I reply, my tone clipped. I hate how much I mean it.

She hesitates for a moment, then smiles softly. “Okay. Thank you.”

Paul, in his ever-dutiful self, rushes over and opens the other back door for her. I can barely protest before Natalie is in, and the car is moving again.

The first thing I realize is how much I underestimated things.

I knew—of course, I knew—that her presence would affect me. But I didn’t account for the closeness of a car, the semi-darkness amplifying every subtle detail: the way her silhouette shifts when she crosses her legs, the soft sound of her breath, and the scent that clings to her. It’s floral but not overwhelming.

There’s something sensual about it, something intoxicating.

I clear my throat, forcing my eyes to the far side of the window, determined to keep the space between us intact.

I sit as close to the door as I can, the faint hum of the car’s engine only making the silence heavier. I tell myself I don’t want to risk an accidental brush of our hands.

But hell, I do.

Every improper thought I’ve kept locked away about Natalie surges forward, flooding my mind. My fingers itch, and I catch myself running them over the buttons of my shirt, popping one open, then another, until I’m almost half-undressed and still burning up.

“Thank you,” she whispers in the darkness, her voice brushing over my nerves like silk.

I nod sharply, but the words I mean to say get lost somewhere between my chest and throat. Instead, I clear it again, hoping she doesn’t notice the strain in my voice when I finally manage, “It’s nothing.”

“Not this,” Natalie says. “Earlier. I know I said I was fine, but I don’t think I could’ve handled it on my own. It’s my fault, though.” I turn at that, only to find her gazing at me.

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