Page 10 of Demanding Mob Boss

"She only ordered a side salad," Shea says. "I was going to give her half of my gyro."

I give the younger woman a grateful look. "Thank you." Even if Mr. Farrar will be eating that now, it was a nice thought. "You can eat my salad," I tell Cian. "I have a sandwich in my desk back at the office."

"It must be peanut butter and jelly if you leave it in your desk drawer and not the fridge," Shea says.

I shrug. That's all I can afford for lunches. Ini and I can buy groceries, but we have to be frugal, especially since we share our dinner with Mrs. Hart every night. She gets her Meals On Wheels at lunchtime and has a piece of toast for breakfast. She needs to eat more, but she won't take anything from us except dinner, and only when we eat together.

Even after everything she's done for us.

Ini used to volunteer with Meals On Wheels. One of her foster moms was really into acts of service and that's how she met Mrs. Hart.

When we both had to leave our homes at eighteen, Ini because she aged out of foster care and me because my family didn't want me anymore, Mrs. Hart let us stay with her until we got our own one-bedroom two stories up. We took turns sleeping on the sofa and the floor.

She said she liked having the company. I only know I felt safer on her floor than I had in my big bedroom at my aunt and uncle's place. It took me and Ini longer to find a place than it would have otherwise because we didn’t want to move out of Mrs. Hart's building.

Cian jerks his head at Mr. Farrar, bringing me out of my reverie. The other man jumps up and heads toward the counter where we ordered our food.

"What are you doing here?" Shea demands of Cian. "Are you tracking me again?"

"You assume I ever stopped."

"That's such an invasion of privacy."

"Your safety is my responsibility."

"You're a Neanderthal."

Cian shrugs. He's not offended, which shows that he knows more than most people do about the Neanderthals. They're usually depicted as lacking in human intelligence, without understanding of social norms. Only modern archaeologists say that picture isn't the right one.

People often look at those they don't understand through a lens clouded by their own biases.

"Seriously." Shea looks appealingly at me. "I hope your family doesn't smother you like mine does me, Anna. It's the pits."

"I don't have any family." None that want to know me anyway. My aunt and uncle took me in after my parents died when I was ten. When I turned 18, they told me I was an adult, and their duty was done.

Shea's face contorts with sympathy. "I'm sorry." Then she frowns ferociously at her brother. "But sometimes I wish I was an only child."

"It's good to have people watching out for you," I tell her.

Mr. Farrar returns with two trays laden with food. There are four gyros, two baskets of round fries that look delicious and four bottles of water. "I cancelled your order. There's a lot of veg on the gyro so I didn't think you'd want the salad, Anna, but I can grab one for you if you do."

I shake my head. "Oh, no, thank you. I…" I can't afford to pay for a gyro though.

"My treat," Mr. Farrar says, like he's reading my mind. "A thank you for sharing your table."

Cian makes a sound of displeasure and Mr. Farrar says, "You can pay for lunch, boss. I guess that makes this Cian's treat."

I turn so I can see Cian's face. He's looking at me, his blue gaze intent.

Feeling relaxed and happy, I smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Chapter 4

CIAN

The day after our shared lunch at the Greek deli, I tell Anna she's to start ordering lunch instead of Connor. I instruct her to get something for herself. She doesn't. The next day I add an extra meal to the order I send her and then when she brings it in, I give it to her.

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