Page 8 of Mob Boss's Second Chance

Her shoulders slump, and she lets out a dramatic sigh, clearly defeated. “Alright,” she mutters, throwing her hands up. “Where do you want me to start?”

I point toward the far end of the yard, where part of the crew is setting up the canopy for tomorrow’s event, carefully fixing the décor. The vibrant fabric sways lightly in the breeze, hinting at the grandeur that’s about to unfold.

“There,” I say firmly, watching her for any sign of rebellion.

“Yes, ma’am.” Danielle gives me a mock salute, her tone dripping with false obedience.

I chuckle softly, shaking my head as I watch her stalk off toward the crew, mumbling something under her breath that I’m certain isn’t complimentary. Her reluctance is almost comical, but I know her well enough to trust she’ll get the job done.

It might take a while and some adjusting before she gets there, but Danielle and I haven’t been friends for over a decade for nothing.

“Right,” I say to myself as I turn, picking up my notebook. “Where was I?”

My train of thought—or at least my futile attempt to get back to it—is interrupted by a faint, lingering scent wafting through the air.

I pause, tilting my head slightly as it brushes past my nostrils. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply, letting the layers of the aroma settle over me.

It’s familiar.

There’s a hint of sandalwood, warm and earthy, mixed with something spicy that leaves a subtle kick, like a whispered promise I can’t quite grasp. The combination tugs at the edges of my memory, stirring something I can’t fully place.

And then, as quickly as it came, it’s gone—slipping through the air like a phantom.

My eyes snap open, darting around the space as my pulse quickens.

Where did it come from?

I’m sure I’ve smelt it before, although in passing, it made enough of an impression on me that I recognized it again. It’soddbecause my line of work puts me in contact with so many people that things never linger unless I know I’ll need them again.

But this—

A twinge of frustration settles in my gut, but I push it away, refusing to let a stray thought interrupt my workflow. I pull back my chair and sit, picking up a pen to make some notes in my book.

Then it hits me.

Not the scent but the memory.

Dark eyes framed by thick lashes and an intense gaze that made my pulse falter. A sharp jawline with a slight stubble that added an edge of ruggedness to his polished appearance.

Ethan Cross.

I glance sharply to my right as my breath catches, half expecting to see him standing there with a scowl on his face. The breath escapes when I find nothing, but it leaves me puzzled.

Why did I smell him?

Danielle’s words couldn’t have triggered it because Ethan Cross managed to work his way into my thoughts yesterday, even though I didn’t catch a glimpse of him.

He crept into my mind at night while I stood in front of the mirror in my bathroom like a thought floating with the wind.

“Is he around?” I wonder aloud. I admit, when he didn’t show up yesterday, I almost asked Anthony if he’d excommunicated himself from the house because of me.

Thankfully, I realized how stupid it sounded, and the question died on my lips.Could he be indoors?

“Why does it matter?” I mutter angrily, forcing my thoughts back on track. It’s not as though I’m anything in his world. The way he looked at me two days ago, I’ll be surprised if he even remembers what I look like.

I don’t have to think about Ethan Cross for much longer because work takes over, and pretty soon, I’m running around giving orders to a bunch of people.

Danielle, surprisingly, doesn’t try to sneak into the main house again. She’s standing by my side when the butler comes around to inform me that the fresh white roses I ordered have arrived.

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