Page 9 of Mob Boss's Second Chance

“You want to go check on them?” I tease.

She looks like she’s about to give in for a moment, then she shakes her head firmly. “Nope. I’m not going to fall for that. It’s your job, so you should handle it.”

“You sure?” I tease some more, playfully nudging her.

Danielle nods tightly as she bites her lip. “Uhuh.” Then, she exhales and pushes me forward. “You better leave before I change my mind.”

I laugh all the way into the house, heading straight for the kitchen. If the flowers arrived, that’s where they’d be. But when I step inside, they’re nowhere in sight.

Instead, I find Mario, the cook, expertly chopping chicken into thick, even chunks. The aroma of garlic and herbs wafts through the air, teasing my senses.

“Hey,” I greet, leaning against the counter. “Did some flowers come in?”

Mario nods without looking up, his hands never pausing. “Yeah, a lot. So many that they couldn’t fit everything here. I told them to take it to the sunroom.”

A sunroom? I blink, confused. “What’s a sunroom?”

“It’s on the second floor,” he explains, finally glancing up with a small smile. “To the right. It’s always open, so you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you.” I return his smile. My gaze flickers to the chicken he’s working on. “Those look amazing, by the way.”

Mario chuckles, shaking his head. “You always say that when you’re angling for a taste. Go on—find your flowers. Lunch will be ready soon.”

I laugh softly.

Climbing the stairs makes me feel a little like Danielle as my curiosity spikes with questions that I deftly tuck away.

I’m not going to sneak into Ethan’s room to find out if the sandalwood was a figment of my subconscious.

“I don’t care,” I say firmly, putting my foot down as I get to the second floor. Spotting a slightly ajar door to my left, I make a beeline in that direction, eager to get things over and done with.

The moment I step inside, I freeze.

It’s not the sunroom.

The soft, muted tones of the walls and the neatly made bed in the corner tell me this is a bedroom. The air smells faintly of sandalwood and something warm, like freshly laundered sheets.

I shake my head, already turning to leave, when I hear the sound of a door opening in the corner.

A man steps out of the adjoining bathroom, drying his hair with a towel. He’s wearing nothing but shorts, his back bare and glistening faintly, as if he just stepped out of the shower.

Firm muscles greet my eyes and his broad shoulders have me staring longer than I should. A little lower, and I see it—a long scar running down the length of his back, cutting through.

I gasp.

It’s jagged, almost deliberate like someone wanted it to hurt badly.

The man turns around, and my jaw drops. It’s Ethan Cross.

For the longest moment, neither of us says anything. His gaze is curious as he stares at me like he’s uncertain why I’m standing in his bedroom, but he’s also curious aboutsomething else.His eyes trail lower than my face—deliberately—to my feet and back.

Warmth spreads through my body, flooding my chest and sinking past my stomach. I feel it between my thighs, a dull throbbing and an unmistakable one at that.

Somehow, I’m attracted to Ethan Cross. I’ve considered him handsome, and so many others, but he’s never affected me this way until now.

I should turn away and feel repulsed or annoyed, but I don’t. I’m rooted to the spot as my breathing comes out shallow, waiting but not eager for the spell to break.

What is it about him?

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