Page 28 of Secret Babies for the Italian Mafia Boss

“Look at me,” he repeats.

I won’t do as he says. I don’t care if it pisses him off.

“Do not make me come back there, Camilla. I said to look at me.”

I slam the tube down and tilt my chin up, hating that I’m met with such a gorgeous view. He hasn’t changed much over the last five years, but I have. He is still tall, elegant, and a dangerous wave of power still hangs around him like a cloak. It’s an air that makes him forbidden and why so many women want a taste.

And it’s such a good taste. One that any woman with common sense would want to try again.

His dark hair is parted down the side, styled so well there isn’t a hair out of place. His blue eyes are the color of frozen ice, and goosebumps arise across my skin, a tremble shaking my bones.

It isn’t the cold. The oven is on. It’s hot in here. I’m sweating, actually.

His intense stare makes me forget all of those things. With one touch, he’d shatter me just like the pressure would ice.

“Those eyes,” he compliments, placing his elbows on the counter as he leans forward. “Those eyes have haunted my dreams for many nights. Why did you leave?” he takes my hand, even though it’s covered in flour and has streaks of icing on it.

“Because it was meant to be one night. We used one another. You were my first lover, and while I had no idea you would be the man I’d end the night with, it was perfect, and I didn’t want it to be ruined by you telling me to leave.”

“I wouldn’t have,” he bites, anger flashing across his face. “I wouldn’t have dared. I wanted more than one night, and I know you felt the same.”

“And it’s a good thing I didn’t.” I pull my hand away and rub my palm on my pants. “You are—were—my father’s rival. And us having a relationship would have been catastrophic. He would have never allowed it. It’s better things are this way.”

“Better in what sense, Camilla?” his long, calloused fingers wrap around my wrist and give me a quick tug. I fall forward, almost meeting him halfway. His nose is inches from mine, his lips but a breath away, and his scent fills my lungs.

Clean, crisp, and the slight edge of his cologne holds the right amount of spice that drives me insane.

“Better than yearning for one another? Better than the pain of not knowing where you were? Better than me wanting to bend you over this counter right now and fuck you like I did all those years ago? Mmm,” he hums in disagreement. “No, there’s nothing better than that. There’s nothing better than my desire for you. It hasn’t stopped. It hasn’t wavered. It has never been in question.”

My eyes drop to his lips, and I notice the salt and pepper stubble across his cheek. He has to be around forty now and is in his prime.

Quicker than I can respond, he brushes his lips against mine. It isn’t a kiss. It’s too quick. It’s a tease, a promise to come, and it’s enough to get my mind to stop spinning.

“But that’s not why I’m here,” he says, leaning away and taking all the heat with him.

I’m yanked from my dream state with him and back to the present. “Shit. The cookies!” I turn around and open the oven, smoke rising from the baking sheet. “No, no, no.” I toss the pan on the counter, the cookies ruined from being left there too long. “I have to start over now. I have the order to fill.” My eyes begin to burn, and I blame the smoke stinging my eyes.

“It’s okay,” he croons, running around the counter until behind it. He shrugs off his coat, rolls his sleeves to his elbows, then grazes his fingers under my jaw to tilt my head to look at him.

He brushes a tear away and cocks his head, brows pinching together. “You aren’t alone anymore, Camilla. Everything you do isn’t on you. I’m happy to help, plus I’m the one that took your mind off the cookies. It’s the least I can do. What do you need from me?”

“I need you,” I swallow. “I need you to not make me fall in love with you. And you being here, you are making that journey very difficult for me. I need you to leave.”

“What if I want you to love me? What if that’s my plan?”

I give him a tight smile and step away from him. “I don’t believe you. I think you’re after what everyone else is. The fortune.”

“I see,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Please, go.”

“I’ll be back,” he says, snagging his coat as he walks away from me. “To collect rent.”

“Collect rent? What are you talking about?” I run after him, demanding to know what he means. “You can’t just say something like that and go.” I grab his arm, and he swings around, gripping my shoulders to hold me in place.

“And you expect me to leave knowing if I stay, maybe I could make you love me, and yet I’m leaving because it’s what you want.”

“Those two things are not the same! Loving you is something I can’t chance. I won’t chance it, but business is another. That has nothing to do with my feelings.”

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