Page 40 of Secret Mafia Daddy

She puts them on with a grin and they’re too big for her face but she’s cute.

My heart does this weird little backflip thing in my chest.

I put my hand to it. What the hell is that?

“You okay?” she asks, tilting her head.

“Heartburn,” I mumble, although I haven’t eaten since yesterday sometime and my stomach is growling rather than too full.

“We should eat,” she suggests, and I look over at her, surprised.

She usually doesn’t want to spend this much time alone with me, away from Chelsea. I guess I should milk it while I can.

I swing by a drive through and her eyes light up.

I chuckle and glance over at her. “So, you’re a cheap date.”

“Look, there’s just something about processed food when you’re Italian,” she says, leaning out the window to order a cheeseburger and loaded fries.

“You’re right,” I say, laughing a little. We get homecooked meals all the time, so there’s something about a fast and dirty burger every once in a while.

We sit in the parking lot while we eat and she digs into her burger with gusto, surprising me.

I munch on my very processed chicken sandwich just as happily, guzzling down fountain soda.

“Last night,” she starts, and I look over at her.

“Yeah?”

“It was…something,” she mumbles, flushing and looking away, but it was something all right, so it makes me grin.

“So, you’ll stay in the master bedroom,” I say easily, hoping that she won’t protest.

She looks at me for a moment with cool gray eyes but then she just nods.

“Yeah, I figured.”

“You did?”

“You seem to want to do this weirdly by the book,” she says.

It’s my turn to flush, just slightly, and I’m glad I’m olive complected so it doesn’t really show.

“If you’re going to do something, you should do it right,” I say firmly.

She chuckles and finishes her burger, picking at her fries.

“We should get home to Chelsea,” she says, and it again does something to my heart when she calls my apartment “home.”

What the hell is wrong with me? I fuck her really well one night and now my heart is doing things? Sure, she’s a little cute all out of it with her mouth pouted and her gray eyes glassy, her body melting against mine.

But that’s all it is.

We arrive back home and Mia’s asleep on the couch with both girls cuddled up together at the other end of the wraparound leather.

I laugh a little, and Catarina goes to Chelsea, picking her up. She’s like a doll in her arms, dead asleep, and Catarina takes her upstairs.

Mia rouses and sits up, blinking. “Shit. Sorry, bedtime was late.”

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