Page 13 of Mob Boss's Second Chance

Our first meeting wasn’t exactly a shining example of charm and grace. I can’t imagine it came across as anything other than stilted and borderline hostile.

I wait for her to pose the question, to satisfy her curiosity like everyone else tries to. But she shrugs, purses her lips, then continues her walk in the other direction.

What?

I blink twice, unsure of what just happened.No,I know what just happened.

She saw me, a well-known recluse billionaire with a torn shirt and bloodied knuckles, and decided it was none of her business.

In the history of people poking their noses into my business and looking for sensational headlines by digging into my past, I’ve never had someone turn away from an opportunity.

How?

Why?

The thought ravages through my mind as I head towards my room, and it stays until I head out to rejoin the party. I try to find answers—with everything ranging from the fact that she could’ve been spying when Solomon was around and had already taken pictures.

But nothing makes sense.

“Tell me I’m not going to have to fight them off, Natalie?” Anthony’s voice cuts into my thoughts, and I shake my head, grounding myself in the present.

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

He points in a direction, and I follow his finger to where some of my men surround Natalie. Something about her feels odd, and I frown, but I figure it out almost immediately.

She’s wearing different clothes. When we met inside the house, she had on a simple dress and an apron, but she’s now wearing a cherry red blouse that hangs off one shoulder and blue jeans.

Her hair is down her shoulders, and I watch as she shakes her head, laughing at something she said.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Anthony says casually. “Unfortunately for them, she’s not the kind of woman you should taint with our lifestyle.”

Sheisbeautiful.

However, it’s more than that. It’s something I can’t quite explain—a yearning that seems to grow every time I see her. When I turned around and found her standing in my room yesterday, every rational thought in my head vanished.

Natalie Monroe.

She was wearing a loose-fitting dress with a thin belt about the waist. The material, light enough to caress the outline of her body, did things to my mind.

My hands… on her body.

I thought about what her skin would feel like—warm and soft underneath the dress. The sound of her laughter… was it the same pitch as her moan? The gasp she let out just before I turned—what would it take for me to hear them again, with my fingers between her legs, running up her thighs, and my lips pressed to her throat?

The thought of pinning her against the wall made me so hard that it was a surprise she didn’t see it through my pants. I wanted her so much that it made my throat dry from longing.

And now, the thoughts are back again.

To run my fingers through her hair andkiss her collarbone. I’d lift the blouse high enough that the cool air on her skin would be nothing compared to the warmth from my tongue.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath as I adjust on my seat, reaching down my pants to make more room. She’s been in my head, carved a permanent spot ever since the day we met.

I don’t think I’ll ever smell lavender and roses the same way. I’ll always think of Natalie, her unrestrained laughter, and her soft gasp.

“What?” Anthony asks. “You want me to go over there and break it up? Come on,” he laughs, completely oblivious, “they’re just having fun.”

For once, I’m glad my cousin only has half a brain.

“It’s nothing,” I reply, but my voice sounds strained. Anthony turns to me, his eyes suspicious and searching. “Are you sure?” he asks.

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