Page 29 of Ruthless Boss

"Go first," I say.

"Is that a power move? You want me to start so you can study my moves?" he asks but doesn't shy away from my request.

"Maybe I just want to watch… you," I say.

Shaking his head, unconvinced, he walks over to the screen in the middle and adds our names, his first in line.

A thread of confidence, one I haven't experienced in I don't know how long, skates up my spine. When I was a teenager, I used to go to alleys with friends, and sometimes, even my mom would take me on weekends. After I married Ciro, I'd gone only a couple of times. He wasn't the dating type, and honestly, my goal was to spend less time with my miserable husband and not more.

Dante positions himself in front of the lane, his strong frame locked in position. Even doing something trivial, he's so fucking hot. He plays, and to my advantage, he finishes his frame with a spare.

When it's my turn, I strike on my first throw.

"All right," he says. "I never shy away from a challenge. Let's do this."

For the next hour, we played, we provoked each other, and although he was a worthy opponent and delivered some beautiful strikes, I won.

"Well done," he says, high-fiving me. "You humbled my ass real quick."

I chuckle. "I enjoy that. Maybe I should try that more often."

"Don't get too comfortable," he says as he texts.

Minutes later, Andrei shows up, carrying a tray with hot dogs and drinks.

We sit at one of the tables, and this would have been a regular date—had he not had to secure the place. I bite into my hot dog, and it's delicious. I also recognize the logo on the napkin—it's an elevated brand and not the greasy type we'd probably get from the grill bar of the bowling alley if he hadn't sent the employees packing.

"Winning looks good on you," he says, interrupting my thoughts. "Your face is glowing."

"I haven't realized how much I need this. Thank you."

He takes a sip of his drink and then leans closer. "I needed it, too."

I nod, and we eat in silence, my insides bursting with hope and positivity. God, when I told him not to worry, I was selfish. I wanted to distract myself from questions and overthinking. And sure, a part of me wanted to follow my own advice—and now that I have, a different worry stabs at me, quietly and steadily. What will I do when I'm out of his life and still need him in mine?

17

Dante

The past week has been idyllic—a silly romantic word I’ve never used. Seems so antiquated and far removed from my reality. There's no other way to describe it, though. Lucia has been having sex with me in the evenings, sometimes during the day if we can't wait. She takes care of my baby daughter with so much care and attention. And she givesmecare and attention at night, the kind a man needs—the kindIneed.

Underneath the surface, there's more. When we agreed not to worry, a weight was lifted. Spending time with someone without the pressure or extra baggage is nice. We both carry extra baggage, but we’ve tucked it away for the last few days and decided not to address it for a while.

"Dante," Rocco says, rushing into my home office. "We need to talk."

He closes the door behind him, walks up to my desk, picks a chair, and sits. He strokes his beard, not the same way he does when he's sure of himself. Right now, doing it quickly and repeatedly equals a nervous tic. He's about to deliver bad news. Shit.

"What is it?" I rock back in my chair, leaning closer.

He glances at me and shoots me an apologetic half-smile, then clears his throat and says, "Your nanny. She's a spy for the Santinis."

"What?" He can't be serious.

“Her real name is Gia Santini. She's married to Ciro Santini… and they live in New York."

A sour sensation spills into my gut, and my heart halts like a hitman struck it out of my chest with a torture device. The easiness from before dissolves from my body, and a bitter harshness takes its place. The image of Lucia forms in my head. Could she really do this? Be that good of an actress? "How do you know?"

I pop my knuckles and adjust myself in my chair like it's become so small, so freaking tight it's uncomfortable. Surprise and deception balloon inside me.

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