Page 16 of Mob Boss's Second Chance

That’s what I shoulddo.

Act like Ethan Cross is just another man—one of the nameless people I see and walk past every day. It’s not as if I’m working directly with him… and why should I care about a scar?

“Okay, Natalie,” I say aloud, giving myself a pep talk as I drop my head low. “You are not going to get worked up over the smell of sandalwood. And attraction is normal. It just shows that the person is conventionally attractive.”

“Whois conventionally attractive?”

I jump when I hear Danielle’s voice, almost getting a whiplash. “Ah,” I scramble for a moment. “Nobody.”

Her eyes narrow as she steps closer, like a predator closing in on its prey. “I don’t believe you,” she sings. “You were talking to yourself, Natalie. I know you. That means there’s someone. Spill.” She plants her hands on the table and leans in, her gaze drilling into mine.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply, my voice a little too high-pitched to sound convincing. “Where is the ice cream?” I change the subject without subtlety.

Danielle’s grin widens, and she straightens up with a shrug. “It’s on its way. But don’t think I’m letting this go. You can’t distract me with desserts, Miss Monroe. I know there’s a story here, and I’m going to find out.”

“Not much of a story to tell,” I say, keeping my tone light and nonchalant though my heart is pounding.

She tilts her head, studying me like she’s trying to crack a code. “You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Tell me,” she insists as she sits down. “Tell me, or I’ll hound you every day until you finally crack, and when I do, I’ll never let it go. If you tell me now, I might be kind.”

Not this time.

If Danielle finds out, I’ll die from mortification. I’ve already experienced it once, walking into Ethan’s bedroom and getting treated like a peeping Tom.

I’d rather keep what’s left of my self-esteem intact.

***

Danielle and I go shopping—her way of cheering me on, when in fact, it’s a prep for attracting the right man—and she picks out a dress I automatically decline.

“Nope,” I shake my head firmly, letting it linger from side to side. “I am not wearing that. I’m going to be working, Dany. I don’t need to be dragging a dress around.”

She dangles it in front of me like bait. It’s a black-and-white dress with tiny straps, a low neckline, and a black-and-white skirt that just flows beautifully. I’ll admit the dress is gorgeous.

But it’s too pretty for the job, and I’m not trying to fit in with a bunch of ultra-wealthy people. Hence, the excuse about length.

“It’s not that long. If you wear this with a pair of stilettos, you wouldn’t even notice the hem.”

“Still no.”

“Come on,” she pouts. “You know it’ll look good on you.”

I fold my arms and turn away, but she skips to my front. “Come on, Natalie. For me?”

I sigh as my arms fall to my side. “It’s too expensive. And the only reason you want me to get it is because you think I’ll get a beau in it. I’m not looking for one.”

She starts to deny it. I arch my brow, and she blows out a breath. “Fine. Do I think you’ll look stunning in this and get the attention ofevery man in the room or building? Yes. But I also think you deserve beautiful dresses, my love.”

Her voice softens when she says “love,” and Danielle’s genuine love for me shines through.

“Look,” she brings it closer and lines it up like my silhouette before gently turning me around so I’m facing the mirror. “The dress is you. I don’t care if some man thinks you’re hot, and you don’t have to entertain them, either. However, I think it’s a crime if you let it go.”

I mean, how could I possibly say no when she puts it that way?

“Fine,” I give up with a sigh. “I’ll get it.”

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