Page 26 of My Mafia King

“Thinking about lying?” he tosses at me, and I shift my eyes to him.

He has that look on his face that things could go either way, depending on my answer.

I don’t trust his smile, although he seems very much entertained by grilling me about my behavior.

“I was trying to get away from my ex,” I say, which is true, although my phone is a different story.

“It didn’t work, did it?”

He goes silent as the servers, two men and a woman, set the food down.

The last time I sat down and other people brought food to the table and asked me to eat, I was five.

My mother used to do that when I was little.

Things changed when I got older.

As the servers walk away, he moves his gaze to me, signaling he’s waiting for an answer.

“He slipped a magnetic GPS tracking device inside my car. Probably inside the fender.”

“So you’re not only looking for a job,” he says, pointing to the food on the table. “Eat before it’s getting cold. You’ve also run away.”

“We broke off, and he wasn’t happy.”

Fidgeting, I set the linen napkin on my lap.

“Where are you from?” he asks.

“LA,” I say, looking at him. “You?”

A faint smile colors his expression.

“New York.”

“Are you here with business?” I ask.

“You can say that.”

He looks down, and I do too.

The appetizers look delicious. I taste the burrata, cherry tomatoes, and marinated olives before indulging in the artichokes coated in olive oil, spices, and grated parmesan.

Before long, a server brings grilled Mediterranean Branzino and sea scallops served with risotto to the table.

I’m overwhelmed by the variety of food, and for a moment, I forget about my host, enjoying it.

Things are not that good otherwise.

What can I say? It’s been an eventful day, and I haven’t gotten much done.

A few minutes later, the desserts are brought to the table––vanilla mouse, passion fruit sorbet, coffee, and chocolate cake.

I opt for the cake, although I’m full and have to eat it slowly.

“Thank you so much for the food. It’s delicious,” I say, chewing slowly.

“Where are you staying?” he asks before sipping his espresso from a small porcelain cup.

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