Page 38 of Entangled Mafia Princess

“Great. ’Cause I don’t want to do lite either.”

“You sure you’re up for the hardcore stuff?”

“Yes.”

Though I hadn’t set out to kidnap Casey and make her my sub—I want to keep my options open—I feel like that’s where I’m headed. My conscience compels me to say to her, “You’d be in over your head with me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And the thing about young people is you don’t know what you don’t know. And that can be dangerous.”

“′Young people’? You make it sound like you’re some old fart.”

“I’m almost ten years older than you.”

“Oh. You are an old fart then.”

Her response has me taken aback. No one has ever referred to me as an “old” anything.

She breaks into a wide smile, surprising me with how attractive she can look.

“Is it weird that I want to be your sub even more?” she asks.

“No, because you have daddy issues.”

She sits back and exhales loudly. “Christ, you’re…”

The waitress returns with the bill and Casey’s order in a plastic bag. Taking out my wallet, I set down a Ben Franklin, even though Casey is the one who originally asked to buy me a drink.

“Time to get you home, princess,” I declare. “Or your real daddy might get worried.”

She seems to reach the same conclusion and gets up quickly. She puts on her coat, I put on my jacket, and we head outside.

“You want me to drop you off back at the club or do you want to take your car?” I ask.

At her puzzled look, I glance toward where her car is parked.

She blushes. “That, um, that’s…”

“A perk of being a princess: you have your own personal chauffer.”

“Right. My chauffer. So about being your sub—”

“I didn’t say you were my sub.”

“You referred to yourself as my Dom.”

Before I could answer, we hear items falling. I walk to the end of the building to an alley and see a cat with its paw stuck in some metal twine. It tries desperately to yank itself free.

Casey gasps. “Poor thing!”

I walk over, scaring the cat, but it has nowhere to go.

“Take it easy,” I tell it. “I’ll get you out.”

Based on its scraggly, malnourished appearance, it’s a stray and was probably doing some dumpster diving for food. Wrapping a hand around the cat to hold it in place, I unwind the twine from its paw. As soon as the cat is free, it darts away.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” I tell her.

---