Page 1 of His Mafia Master

Chapter one

Joey

Thesteamhissedfromthe espresso machine as Joey, with practiced hands, swirled the milk into a perfect rosetta on the latte. He slid the cup across the counter to Mrs. Henderson, flashing her a smile.

"Here you go, Mrs. Henderson. Enjoy!"

"Thank you, hon," she replied, returning his smile. "You always make it so pretty."

Joey chuckled and turned back to the line of waiting customers, wiping his hands on his apron. He prided himself on his work ethic and ability to connect with the regulars at the cozy coffee shop that was the Java Jive.

As he scanned the line, he caught sight of a familiar face who came in every morning before work: Tom. Joey knew him well: he always ordered a black coffee, no sugar.

And unfortunately, Joey also knew that Tom always asked for something other than his order…

Joey's heart sank as Tom approached the counter. "Hey there, cutie," Tom said, leaning over the counter and giving Joey a sly smile. "You're looking good today."

Joey forced a smile, already uncomfortable. "Thanks, Tom. What can I get for you?"

"Just a black coffee for me…"

Oh, thank god.

But before Joey could relax, Tom continued. "But I'm hoping for a little extra on the side," he said. Just in case Joey didn't get what he was putting down, he followed it with a suggestive wink.

Joey's stomach churned. He took a deep breath. "One black coffee, coming up."

Tom shrugged, unfazed. "Suit yourself," he said, swiping his credit card to pay for his coffee. "But just so you know, I can make it worth your while." He looked at the nearly-empty tip jar, and grinned. "You could use the extra cash, right?"

God, this guy! He was shameless, he was sleazy, and…

And he was right.

Joey's face flushed with anger. "Here's your coffee," he said, keeping his voice even.

Tom was too shameless to care. "You always make it just right." He slid his business card across the counter, tapping his phone number with one finger. "See you tomorrow—or maybe tonight, if you wise up and give me a call."

As Joey watched Tom leave, he wanted to scream.

The worst part was that Tom was right. Hewasbarely making ends meet.

A barista job didn't exactly pay well—and that was even without taking Joey's dad and his addiction into the equation…

As if he was watching from a distance, Joey watched his hand stretch forward to pick up Tom's business card.

With one little call, I might be able to keep the lights on, or fix my crapsack car, or help out Dad…

Joey picked up the card, and dropped it into the trash.

No.

Busting his ass making coffees and mopping floors all day was hard work for little reward, but there was a line he wouldn't cross.

Yet.

The bell at the door jingled again. As Joey turned to greet the next customer, the Java Jive's door swung open, and a gust of wind ushered in a man who seemed to command the attention of everyone in the room.

The man—tall, dark-haired, broad-shouldered—entered with a confident stride, his tailored suit hugging his toned body perfectly. The low murmur of conversation in the coffee shop dwindled as heads turned to look.

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