Page 4 of Secret Mafia Daddy

As much as I care for Alonzo and appreciate all he did for me and my mom, I need to get far away from him so that he can’t try to ‘protect’ me anymore. Protection I wouldn’t even need if he didn’t live like he does. If he wasn’t who he is.

I huff out a breath. “This isn’t even going to be fun, Alyssa,” I tell her as we stand at the bar. She’s sliding onto a bar stool but I just lean my back against the bar, looking out at all the people on the dance floor. It’s like a damn school of fish out there, everyone swaying to the music.

“Come on, Cat,” she whines. “We never go out. It’s been months.”

I sigh. She’s right, it has been a long time since I’ve been able to let loose, but that’s because I know that my stepfather has people watching me all the time. It isn’t as fun when someone’s hawk-eyeing your every move.

“It’ll be okay. They’re chilling over by the door. Probably can’t even see us.”

“They can see us,” I say forlornly, looking over at the guys who tower over nearly everyone in the club. “They can always see us.”

This isn’t really my scene. Months without a night for myself and the first one I get, I can’t even enjoy it as I should.

I’m looking out at the crowd while Alyssa orders our drinks when someone sidles up next to me, so close that I can feel his breath.

“Excuse me,” I say, probably bitchily. I’m usually nice enough, but I’m not in the mood to get hit on, at least not before a drink.

“Excuse me,” he says. “Just trying to get a beer.”

His low-timbred voice sends a slight shiver through me and goosebumps pop up along my skin.

“There’s too many people in here,” I mutter, and then I look at him. Really look at the man.

His wide brown eyes tinged with amber look down at me, a slight smile on his face. His jaw is strong, lined with stubble, his hair longer, slicked back, but there is no doubt in my mind of who this is.

Angelo Bianchi.

No fucking way, I think.

“Have we met before?” he asks, looking down at me curiously. And my heart drops to the floor.

He doesn’t remember.

“No,” I say firmly, and abandon Alyssa in the club, pushing through people to get out into the alley. I need to get out of here, I feel like I’m suffocating.

I take only a few breaths of fresh air before the exit door opens, and I sigh, knowing that it’s probably one of Alonzo’s men.

When I turn, though, it’s Angelo.

“Getting some fresh air?” he asks, still in that low voice of his, and I groan.

I don’t answer him.

“I know you from somewhere,” he says again, tilting his head with curiosity.

“No, you don’t,” I say, and turn my head away from him.

He just gets closer, cups my chin in his hand, tilting my face up to his.

I wrench away from him as his touch sears me. How is it possible that years later his touch still affects me?

I shake my head again, but he’s advancing on me, backing me up against the brick wall.

“Remind me, babydoll,” he murmurs. “What’s your name?”

“None of your business,” I mutter. If he doesn’t remember, I’m certainly not the one who will help jog his memory.

He blinks but he’s still grinning. “Feisty, I like that,” he muses.

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