Page 57 of Mafia Toy

“What happened?” Constantino asked, glancing over at Riccardo, who sat on the couch.

Neither one of us said anything, just glanced at each other. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Laila, didn’t want her to get angry with me again. Honestly, I didn’t think I would be able to hear her tell Constantino I was a toy to them.

At least, I didn’twantto hear it.

“What happened?” Constantino repeated, looking for a response.

“We went to an art festival and”—Poppy glanced at me—“soda was spilled on my clothes.”

My shoulders slumped forward, and I let out a breath. Riccardo hummed on the couch, brow arched hard at me. Later on, I knew he’d tell Constantino the truth—as I wanted him to—but for right now, this was enough.

Laila stared at me, sadness heavy in her eyes. “An art festival?”

Fuck.

“Well,” Poppy said, probably sensing the tension between us, “I should be off. I have work soon.”

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laila

“You’re jealous,”Constantino hummed, leaning closer to me while Sage showed herfriendout of her apartment.

Sage had never mentioned her before. Was she the reason that Sage hadn’t wanted to spend time with me today? Had she gone to the coffee shop to see her?

And she had brought thisPoppyto an art festival?

“I’m not jealous,” I whispered. “There’s nothing to be jealous about. You’re mine.”

Constantino chuckled, which made me angrier. “I’m not talking about me.”

“It was nice meeting you,” Poppy said, waving from the front door.

I pursed my lips together and forced myself to smile at her because I wasn’t jealous.

Not me. If I were, that’d mean I had feelings for Sage. And I couldn’t.

“It was nice meeting you too,” I ground out through my teeth.

As soon as Sage closed the door, I let out an unsteady breath. I wasn’t jealous. I wasn’t jealous. I wasn’t fucking jealous.

And to prove it, I straightened my back and regained my composure. “Who was she?”

Fuck, I sound so jealous. So possessive. But Sage is ours.

“Just a friend,” Sage hummed.

Just a friend?Constantino had been just a friend until he wasn’t.

“Are you okay?” Sage asked me, brows drawn together. “Did I do something wrong?”

Constantino gently squeezed my waist with one hand, stepping in. “No.”

“When did you meet her?” I asked, aching to know the details.

“At the coffee shop yesterday.”

She was the reason that Sage hadn’t wanted to spend time with me today. I balled my hands into tight fists behind my back. Never in my life had I wanted to kill someone, to end someone’s life—until now.

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