Page 8 of Hot Momosa

“Call me when you want to see him, but it’s best if we don’t tell anyone he’s yours.”

“Marco knows.” Leo frowned. “He’s not happy we’ve kept it from the family, but he won’t tell anyone.”

“That’s fine, as long as he keeps quiet.” I hated the lies. I’d come close to telling Maggie and Shanna so many times over the years, but I couldn’t do it. Not without speaking to Leo first, and like so many others, that was a conversation we’d never gotten around to having. “I should go.”

He tucked my hair behind my ear. “May I kiss you goodbye?”

Regardless of my answer, I’d shatter into a million pieces the second I pulled out of the driveway. It might have been foolish, but I wanted some sort of closure, a ritual like a funeral and headstone to remember the death of years of hopes and dreams.

I glanced from the wrought-iron gate at the end of the drive, to the floodlights, and finally to the security cameras. If we were going to do this, I wanted privacy. “Not here.”

Leo dragged me to our secret spot. If there was one good thing about lying to our friends and family, we knew every dark corner and blind-spot from security on the property.

Grief tightened my chest. This is it. Our last kiss.

Leo’s hands shook as he cupped my face. Still staring into my eyes, he leaned forward. At the last moment, he sighed and pressed his brow to mine. “I can’t fucking do this. We can’t be over.”

“I’m sorry.” I brushed my lips across his.

Before I could pull away, he slid his arms around me and kissed me as if his life depended on it. It would have been so easy for me to fall back in love with him, to believe that kiss was a promise. Had he once, in the course of the conversation, said he loved me, I doubted I would have had the strength to walk away.

But he hadn’t.

A clamor of voices and flashes of light broke the spell.

I’d been so lost in my thoughts, in the kiss, in him, that it took me a moment to realize what was happening.

A pack of paparazzi had slipped inside the gate and were shouting questions like, “Does Harrison know you’re cheating on him?” and, “Are you aware the Marchionnis have ties to organized crime?” and, “Dahlia, how does the governor feel about you sleeping with a mobster?”

“Oh God.” I froze in place, giving the photographers enough access to my stunned face to fill thousands of articles.

Leo pressed my head against his chest, angled my body away from the cameras, and hurried us back into the kitchen. “Are you okay?”

Not trusting my voice, I shook my head.

Gabe burst into the kitchen. “What they hell is going on out there?”

“The paparazzo came through the gate.” Leo raked his hands through his hair. “This never would have happened before Pops stepped down as capo. They wouldn’t have dared.”

“You’re right. I need to speak to Marco about this.” Gabe motioned between us. “You two stay here.”

“Will do.” Leo pulled me closer. “Tell him Dahlia needs security for the evening.”

I glanced from Gabe’s hard-set jaw to Leo’s murderous expression and choked back a sob. “I can’t do this. I can’t go out there alone, but if I go out with security…”

This is a mess. An absolute mess.

Leo tilted my face toward his and waited until I met his gaze. “Dahl, it’s going to be okay. I know you. You’ll be fine once you’ve had time to cry, get angry, and process what happened.” He held me close and whispered, “I’m here for you, babe. Whatever you need.”

As he had so many times before, Leo knew exactly what to say, when to hold me, and when to give me space. In a perfect world, we could have had it all. Unfortunately, our worlds were far from perfect.

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