Page 35 of Secret Babies for the Italian Mafia Boss

“Oh. Apologies, Oliver. Everyone has their own processes,” Luca bows, but it’s extravagant and extra. He bows by gesturing with his hand and bending over.

Oliver grins, showing his cute little dimples. “It’s okay,” he shrugs his shoulder and finally has the gift unwrapped. “Woah.” He’s stunned. His mouth parts in a small O, and he lifts up his new remote-controlled car. It’s black with blue racing stripes, and the tires are huge. “This is so cool! Thank you, Mr. Luca.” Oliver runs to give him a hug, too, before darting to the back of the bakery.

I stand from the seat, arms crossed over my chest, and try not to be jealous. When was the last time I was able to get them anything other than something cheap?

“I hope you don’t mind,” Luca says, his arm brushing against mine. “I saw the toys and thought they would like them.”

I turn to him, wondering what his game is. “It’s very kind of you, but I ask that you don’t make it a habit. Every now and then is okay. Maybe that’s just my pride talking,” I murmur out of nowhere, the admission suddenly lifting the weight from my shoulders.

He lifts my chin, and his eyes dance over my face. His fingers brush against my cheek, and I lean against his palm, and the same feeling I had five years ago runs through my body. Every part of my body awakens. He was the last man to ever touch me, and I was right to miss it because even this simple gesture, the way his hand engulfs my cheek, has me feeling small yet protected.

“I understand. Too many gifts can be a bad thing. They can be spoiled but not too much, right?” he says, his voice smooth and deep, and I almost feel like I’m floating. He’s completely yanked the gravity from right under my feet.

Anti-gravity against reality?

I don’t stand a chance.

“Why did you come here?” I finally ask the question that’s been burning in the back of my mind. “You couldn’t have only come for the kids.”

“What if I did? Is that such a bad thing to know I’m interested in more than just you?”

“Luca…”

“Camilla,” he says with a teasing smile.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“I never got that cookie I came for the other day.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

I don’t believe him, but he won’t give me any more than that, so I head behind a counter and wrap two cookies for him. “Fresh out of the oven. Made today. And they aren’t burnt.”

“Lucky me.” He bites into one and moans.

I’m taken back to when that same sound graced my ears as he fucked me.

“You’re blushing, Ms. Thompson. Care to tell me what you’re thinking about?” he licks a bit of frosting from his lip, and those wicked blue eyes lock onto me.

“Just a sudden hot flash.” A lame excuse, but it will have to do. I fan myself, hoping he doesn’t catch on.

“I’ll be seeing you around, Camilla. I’ll be expecting that rent check in a few days.” He goes to leave, but I reach across the counter to stop him.

He looks at where I’m touching him, then drags his eyes to my face.

“How do you own this building? My father owned it. It’s impossible for you to be my landlord.”

“Nothing is impossible,” he states, not giving me an answer.

I scoff, becoming impatient. “I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with you being the person I have to answer to, Luca.”

He steps towards the counter, engulfing me with his presence. I smell the rich spice of his cologne as he leans down, and when I try to take a step away, his hand grips mine. Luca slides his eyes to the left to check on the kids, and when he sees they are preoccupied, his lips almost touch mine again.

And for the second time today, I’m unable to breathe.

“Then I guess it’s time for you to step out of your comfort zone because I’m not going anywhere, Camilla.” I can tell he wants to kiss me by how his eyes drop to my lips, but he refrains, then steps away. “Don’t forget the check.”

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