Page 114 of My Mafia Queen

“That’s like dog years for me,” I say after a moment, stroking the skin between his pecs.

“You were angry with me when I left,” he continues.

“Yes. Yes, I was. I didn’t expect you to go to New York. I thought you were traveling someplace closer. How was it, by the way?”

“It’s not worth mentioning,” he says, still smiling, although his grin fades a little. “Where were you?”

“You know I was gone?” I murmur, moving my eyes to his belt and beginning to unfasten it.

Gripping my chin, he demands my focus.

I tilt my gaze up.

A questioning look sits on his face.

“I had to go to LA.”

“Why today?” he asks.

My fingers stop moving, yet stay on his belt.

“I talked to Jen this afternoon. She said my father had asked for me. So I made a trip to LA, worked a shift at my old job, and went home as if I was never gone.”

“Did it work?”

“I’m here.”

His eyes twinkle while he studies my face.

“You were armed?”

“I was ready to defend myself. I didn’t need to, though. He went for the money, which worked better than threatening him.”

“It always does. I told you so.”

A few moments pass.

“What else?” he asks as I seem to have run into a stumbling block.

“This can’t go on…” I say eventually.

“What do you mean?”

“My sister… She can’t stay there forever. I need to solve this problem once and for all. I need more money, and I have to figure out a way to get her out. Legally, I mean. He’ll eventually know what’s going on. He was suspicious of me because he had received an anonymous text message. I’m sure it was Anthony. He’s the only person still interested in doing bad things to me. He said something about me prostituting myself for money. It can only be him.”

He looks at me thoughtfully.

“Yeah. It’s him,” he says. “Don’t worry about your sister. We’ll find a lawyer.”

“Are you serious? We do that?” I ask, smiling.

He brings his hand to my face and tilts his head.

“Yes,” he says, smiling, stroking my cheek with his thumb, and seemingly pondering something else. “I’ll make some calls tomorrow morning,” he adds, yet he seems distracted by something different.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, my grin vanishing from my face.

“No. Everything’s fine,” he says, rather tense. “I may need to travel again.”

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