Page 68 of Mafia Toy

“I don’t know if Constantino packed sunscreen,” I said, scrounging through my bag and hoping that I had something for her. If he had let me pack myself, I would’ve grabbed a bunch of sunscreen. Sage was so fair-skinned. “Do you want tanning lotion?”

“I don’t tan like you.” She smiled softly. “No worries. I can go pick some up—”

“Found it,” I said, popping back up with a small bottle. “We can pick up more later.”

“Can you put some on my back?” she asked.

Anything to touch her like yesterday on the plane.

My lips curled into a smile, heart pounding. Nearly five years ago, when I had started dating Constantino, he had asked me to rub tanning lotion on his back while on vacation, giving me every opportunity to touch his body. I remembered all those butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

Now, all those little feelings returned.

She sat on a small stool in front of the mirror and hummed. I squeezed some pasty sunscreen into my hand and lathered it on her shoulders before my fingers ran over all her curves that I so desperately wanted again, especially after that flight.

“Were you talking to Bethany?” she asked quietly a couple of moments later.

I stiffened. “No. Just scrolling through her Instagram.”

“You must really like her, huh?”

“She’s my friend,” I said. Though Constantino had kept telling me otherwise. “Why?”

Sage set her lips into a tight line and shrugged. “No reason.”

“Do you think she’s attractive?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Sage shifted uncomfortably and nervously gazed into my eyes. “Do you?”

I opened and closed my mouth, not knowing what to say.Why didn’t she answer? Did she see that picture of Bethany on my phone?Of course, Bethany was fucking beautiful, but … but I didn’t want Sage to think so.

Sage was mine.

“She’s attractive,” I whispered, watching to gauge her interest.

“Oh,” Sage said, voice falling as she looked away.

“Do you think she is?” I asked again.

“No.”

“What about your friend?”

“My friend?” she asked, brows scrunching for a moment. “You mean, Poppy?”

“Yeah, her,” I said, loathing the sound of her name.

“She’s pretty, but not my type.”

“Who’s your type?”

“I hope it doesn’t offend you, but I would usually go for someone like Constantino, except without the wholegangster, mob bossthing.” She giggled, eyes flickering up to me again and cheeks flushing. “But I make exceptions sometimes.”

Exceptions …

I stared at her for a few moments, wondering if I should ask her if one of those exceptions was me. By the way she stared back, I sorta felt like it was, but … but … she had done this for the money. Not because of me.

Sometimes, I still couldn’t get my head around why Constantino liked me.

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