Page 8 of Owned By the Mob Boss
How could any man resist her?
The question threatens to fill me with rage as I think of all the other bastards out there, like Craig, who would do anything to have her. But that’s never going to happen. Isabella ismine.
“I didn’t know mob bosses cooked,” she says, her voice sweet like a Steinway piano.
“Only when we’re apologizing.” I think about Craig getting what he deserved, but it’s not enough. “I never should have let that happen to you, angel.”
Isabella’s eyes stare up at me, wide and innocent. My chest tightens, but my face stays cold as ice. I’m a killer, the boss. Even if I want to show her my soft side, I have to uphold my image.
If I even have a soft side anymore…
“Sit,” I tell her, gesturing to the stools at the marble island. She does, and I try not to gawk like a pig, but the way the hemof her dress rides up and shows off her gorgeous legs has me practically drooling.
It’s like she was designed by a billionaire, crafted specifically with my tastes in mind. There’s not an inch on her that doesn’t turn me on. Not a place on her I wouldn’t put my tongue.
“How do you like your eggs?” I ask. “Scrambled okay?”
“Scrambled is perfect,” she replies. I shoot her a glance.
“You’re not just saying that, are you? To make me happy?”
Isabella shakes her head adamantly, causing her hair to sweep across her beautiful shoulders.
“No, I love scrambled eggs. Bacon too.”
“Good.” I nod. “Then you’ll enjoy this breakfast.”
I turn back to the stove and cook, all the while trying to come up with something to say to her. What is happening to me? It’s like my feet are stuck in the mud.
This never happens. It’s like she’s cast a spell on me or something. Finally, as I’m dishing out the fruit salad, I pause.
“You shouldn’t have seen that,” I tell her. “That…violence.”
“I’m fine,” she lies. I can hear the fear in her voice, and it pains me. I bring our plates over and sit down beside her. Being this close is like a willpower test.
Can I keep my hands off her?
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” I tell her.
She opens her mouth but hesitates. Whatever it is she wants to say, she’s not sure about it.
I let it sit there, not rushing her. Finally, she asks a question that completely levels me. “You’d never do anything like that to me?”
Christ, what is she thinking? Does she really think I’mthatbig of a bastard?
“Isabella,” I say, taking her hand. “I wouldneverhurt you or take you against your will. I need you to understand that.”
Her eyes slip from mine. She looks down, almost like she’s ashamed of what she just said. But I lift her chin, forcing her to look back at me.
“I’d take a bullet if it meant keeping it from hitting you.”
Her pupils dilate. Her plump lips open, and a tiny breath escapes her mouth. Beauty incarnate.
“You…you mean it?”
I nod. “More than anything in my life.”
She could be my queen. I look at her, trying not to show how star struck I am.She could also be my destruction.
