Page 45 of Mob Boss's Second Chance

Who am I kidding? I enjoyed it way more than I should’ve.

The banter that led to the questions, the quiet comfort he offered when I talked about my parents, and the offer to drive me home.

It took my silent attraction for him—the secret knowledge of his presence from musk and sandalwood to something else. Italmostfelt like he had something for me, too. After all, we had sex.

Twice.

But Ethan says nothing. The car moves smoothly through the streets, the hum of the engine blending with the faint sounds of the city outside.

I steal a glance at him from beneath my lashes, wondering if he’s even paying attention or if he has the driver going aimlessly. His expression remains unreadable, focused on the road like he’s done this a thousand times before.

Fine. Two can play that game.

I cross my arms, feigning indifference, and close my eyes. If he wants to play assistant chauffeur without instructions, so be it.

Let’s see how long it takes before he caves and asks where I’m going.

A few beats of silence pass. Then, his voice cuts through the quiet.

“You can keep pretending to be asleep, but I already know where I’m taking you.”

My eyes snap open, meeting his in the reflection of the rearview mirror. His lips curl just slightly, enough to let me know he’s enjoying this.

Damn it.

I stubbornly give him a nonchalant look and shut my eyes tighter. True to his word, the car lurches to a stop after a couple of minutes. I peek out of my right eye, and he’s brought me to the right place.

“Shall we?” Ethan asks before he exits the car, coming to open my door.

I inhale sharply, swallowing my pride as I give him my hand. Even as we walk in together, the question remains—how did he know?Anthony never asked where I got the food because he trusted me enough not to worry about its origin.

Ethan—

I gasp softly. The sound, though, is audible enough that Ethan gives me a side glance.He’s been keeping tabs on me. Watching me.

“Of course,” I say; this time, I want him to hear. He’s been watching me. I was a spy up until recently.

“You don’t have to accompany me to the meat section,” I bite. “I can find my way.”

He nods and lets go, walking in the opposite direction without any argument. Only when he’s gone do I realize the warmth that came from his hand and fingers around mine.

It was nice.

Too nice.

ButI exhale with some annoyance as I march to the beef section;how could he leave like that?

He didn’t take no for an answer when I wanted to go out on my own, but he doesn’t see anything wrong with abandoning me at the grocery store?

“Think steak, Natalie,” I tell myself as the annoyance seeps deeper. “Think steak. It’s not worth it.”

Buying steak for Anthony—something I haven’t done before—turns out to be a day’s work. Not because the beef section is at the far corner of the grocery store or because they somehow had more than a dozen options to choose from.

I get sucked into buying other things for myself. I haven’t done that in a long time, so I find it impossible to decide on almost everything.

After two hours of wandering through the store, I find myself back in the beef section.

“Ribeye?” I muse, lifting the package and inspecting it. With a shake of my head, I put it back and grab another. “Filet mignon? New York Strip?” I pause, squinting at the label. “What is a New York Strip doing in Philadelphia?”

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