Page 29 of Mob Boss's Second Chance

Avoiding her entirely isn’t an option. With her in the picture, crossing paths is inevitable. Every hallway, every event, every damned room seems to pull us together.

That leaves me with one solution, however absurd it feels. I’ll pretend she doesn’t exist.

How hard can it be to ignore someone who occupies my every waking thought?

Chapter Nine

Natalie

The first thing I see when I walk into the kitchen is two men standing next to each other by the sink, both of them sporting identical wolf tattoos on their arms.

They’re easily bigger than me—much bigger, actually—and I pause at the open door with the grocery bags in my hands, wondering what to do.

I’m not scared because I interacted with manymenat Ethan’s house, so I know that whatever the Cross cousins are up to, they have many people working in their “inner” circle.

But I need to get to work.

I clear my throat.

They turn around, and their expressions resemble those of deer caught in brightheadlights.

“Sorry,” one of them—the one with more hair on his head—speaks up. “We didn’t know you were around. The boss said he needed some fruit, and we thought we could use the kitchen because you arrived.”

“Oh, oh,” I wave them on with a smile, “please continue. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll just set these down here,” I walk to the counter, “and get the other stuff ready.”

As I unpack the food ingredients from the bags, the low hum of hushed voices catches my attention. The moment my gaze falls on them, the bickering halts abruptly, replaced by forced, casual expressions.

I turn back to my task, shaking my head. Not even five seconds pass before the hushed tones resume, more animated this time.

Abandoning my spot, I stride over to where they’re standing, crossing my arms as I give them a pointed look.

The one with a fuller head of hair clears his throat with uncertainty. “We were wondering—we were arguing the best ways to cut up apples. He,” he points to the other one in an accusing way that has me biting the inner part of my mouth to keep from laughing, “said we had to keep the skin on, and I told him to peel it.”

“You’ve never stepped into a kitchen before,” the other one argues.

“You’re wrong about that,” the first man protests, and then the situation descends into back-and-forth chaos. I’m forced to intervene by picking up the bowl of apples and moving it away.

They stop immediately and turn to me. “I’ll handle it,” I say, hoping my pacifist stance would do the job of ending the argument. “Don’t worry,” I add with an easy smile.

While the smile stops them from arguing, I get two feet helpers in return. “Is there anything we can do to help?” “I’m pretty good at making simple dishes like toast and eggs.”

I laugh as I shake my head. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.”

Expecting them to leave after my kind dismissal, I get to peeling the apples. I’m not sure whichbossasked for a bowl of fruit, but I haven’t seen Ethan since I walked in, so I’m assuming it’s Anthony.

He was in the living room, and I was subjected to another warm—tight—hugwhen he saw me.

“I can do Anthony,” I say as my head bobs. Ethan, on the other hand… I don’t know. Everything about him makes it hard to think or function rationally. And there’s the water incident from two days ago.

I still fume when I think about it.

He could’ve caught me with ease, saving me the trouble of struggling to find my balance with my hands flailing. Ethan didn’t have to break my fall with his arms around my body if he was worried about unwanted physical contact on his end.

A simple push from behind, a firm hand to my back, or a brief wrist grab would have sufficed.

“He’s insufferable,” I mutter under my breath with a displeased head shake.

“Mr. Cross?”

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