Page 131 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

The place is huge, gorgeous, and screams authentic prestige in an intoxicating way.

“Yeah. His name is Lou. Lou Romano.”

“Romano?” I tilt my head to one side, my eyes narrowing as the familiar name washes over me. “As in…Lou Romano from the infamous mafia family who somehow has a squeaky clean background even though everyone knows he works for the infamous Kingston Romano?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh…what the hell?”

He laughs. “They’re good guys, Mads. Well, except for being knee-deep in a lot of shady shit.”

“Hold up.” My neck cricks as I swivel toward him. “You give tattoos to a guy in the mob? And said mob man also owns a restaurant where we’re going tonight and is likely used for money laundering?”

“I’m not gonna go down that road––”

“What do you mean, you’re not gonna go down that road?” I almost squeal. “Do you have any idea how crazy this sounds?”

He chuckles. “It’s not a big––”

“If you saydealright now, I’m going to smack you.”

“It’s not, though. He’s a normal guy.”

“Who works for the freaking mob,” I reiterate. “You know, in a roundabout way, you kind of work for the mob, too, right?”

Another dry laugh echoes throughout the car. “I give a nice guy tattoos. Nothing more.”

“Nothingmore? You…”––my hands flail around––“you know a real-life mobster!”

“I know a tech guy who also likes to dabble in the restaurant business. That’s who I know. It’s not like we talk shop on how to get rid of a dead body––”

“Milo!” I screech.

He rolls his eyes and pulls up to the valet line at the front of the restaurant, where a few cars are still waiting for their turn. “I was kidding. Now, are you gonna let me tell you how gorgeous you look tonight, or are you gonna have a brain aneurysm?”

“Probably both,” I mutter, but I lean in and meet him halfway as he bends closer to me and gives me a soft kiss.

“You look gorgeous tonight,” he murmurs against my lips.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” I run my hand along the soft, black sleeve rolled up to his elbows and tug gently at the crisp, ironed collar of his button-up shirt. “Yeah, I’d do you.”

With his dimples on full display, he warns me, “Careful. I already walked around work with a hard-on. Let’s not make it an issue again before we even get out of the car.”

“I mean––”

He cuts off my snarky remark with another panty-melting kiss, leaving me hot and bothered. When he pulls away a few seconds later, he mutters, “Let’s get inside, or I might change my mind and take you to the nearest hotel.”

“Hotel? Would it be owned by a secret mob boss too? Or…?”

“Actually…” His gaze shoots to the tall black building across the street with a fancy name scrawled across the top of it in gold cursive lights.

I bend down to get a better look through the driver’s side window, my eyes practically popping out of my head. “You’re joking.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.” The hinges creak quietly as he shoves open the driver’s side door and rounds the front of the car, tossing the valet his keys and opening mine like a gentleman. I take his offered hand.

Hugging Milo’s bicep, my arm tucked in the crook of his elbow, we walk into the buzzing restaurant, and I’m grateful I dug out the red heels. They make my legs look incredible. Anything to look like I belong on the arm of the sexy man beside me.

“There you are,” Jos greets us, looking dapper as ever in a pinstripe suit and black fedora hat. I feel like I’ve been transported back to the roaring twenties. The swing music and sparkling chandeliers only add to the atmosphere.

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