Page 22 of Dangerous Fortune

“When you decide to go off the rails, you really commit, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what it is about him.” Looking up, I see concern and amusement filling my brother’s eyes. “There’s this thing between us. An energy that makes me want to forget about the rules and beg him to run away.

“It’s called lust.”

“I think it’s more than that.”

He makes a gimme motion with his hand. “Start talking and tell me why this criminal is turning my practical sister’s head.”

“He makes me feel like I’m strapped to a rocket, and someone lit the fuse.” What I keep to myself is that he’s in possession of the most coveted attribute of all. Duality. Dominant but not a monster. Kind, but not a pushover. “I like how I feel when I’m with him. He doesn’t look at me like I’m a freak who needs to be put in her place. He seems to accept me as is.”

“Damn.” He leans back and crosses his arms. “That kind of thing is hard to resist.”

“Tell me about it.” My shoulders drop. “I keep thinking the feeling will disappear, but so far, no luck.”

“I respect that, but dating a mobster is complicated.” He taps his mouth. “Especially if you’ve spun him into your web.”

“I’m not a spinner of webs.”

“And I’m straight.” He picks up my empty plate and stands. “You don’t even know you’re doing it.”

“As is evidenced by my thrilling social life.”

“You could have a date every night of the week but prefer to sit at home in your mismatched sweats watching documentaries.”

“It’s better than going through first date hell and telling strangers that I prefer dogs to cats, chocolate over vanilla, and don’t have a gag reflex.”

“Ugh! Don’t make my ears bleed.” He spins around and marches toward the kitchen.

“Baby,” I mutter before draining the wine in my glass and gathering my things.

Once the restaurant is locked up for the night, we head down the street. The soft glow from the string lights casts a warm, inviting glow over the road, making me wish I hadn’t made my life more complicated.

“I can’t believe you’re interested in a mafioso,” Marco says as he takes my hand. “Ma has warned us against that life since we could throw cheerios.”

“Which doesn’t make a lot of sense since growing up with our grandparents was pretty idyllic.”

“Maybe some mini-mafioso broke her heart.”

“I guess that’s possible.” I shove my hand into my coat pocket. “Do you remember when you told me you’d never be interested in a blond surfer with a trust fund?”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“One drink with Blair made you throw out all your rules. What made you decide that a gorgeous lawyer from California could be the love of your life.”

“Lust.”

“Liar. He’s in full possession of your heart.”

“And I’m not happy about it.”

I squeeze his hand as we walk past the darkened storefronts. “The heart wants what it wants even if it makes no sense.”

“Platitudes.” He scoffs. “I expected better from you.”

“I’m a math genius, not a poet.”

Marco stops under a street light, and the concern in his eyes is unmistakable. “I’m not going to do anything.”

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