Page 39 of Knocked Up by My Dad's Mafia Boss

“I’m…” He chugs out a laugh. “I’m fine. Just… stranded.” His words are slurred around the edges.

“Are you… drunk?”

“Blame your father.”

I snort out a laugh, relief washing over me. “Thank God, I was worried that you…”Slept with someone else.“...were hurt.”

“No, little one. I’m fine. But uh, I need a ride and Ricardo isn’t answering.”

“He’s asleep,” I say. “Stayed here with me since you two didn’t come home.” I’m already grabbing my keys from the kitchen.

“I tried to schedule a ride sharing service but I’m old and?—”

I laugh again. “Shut up, Dante. I’m on my way.”

“I’m at this dive called the Dove.”

I wrinkle my nose. It’s a known mob bar, and I know it’s crawling with those groupies. “Where’s Papa?’

“Went home with a long-legged blonde.”

I snort. “Of course he did.”

This is the first time I’ve been able to leave the house by myself in what, weeks now?

Months?

But I’m not thinking about escaping. I just want to get to Dante. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you,tesoro.”

I smile, loving it when he calls me that. God, I’m such a fool, with this huge crush on my father’s best friend.

I hang up and speed to the dive bar, looking around as I turn onto the street.

Dante is leaning up against the brick, watching for me. There’s not a woman hanging off his arm.

Thank Christ.

When I pull up he makes his way slowly to the car, and I can’t help but grin as I watch him brace himself on the open door before he gets in heavily. “Jesus, I thought you didn’t like tequila,” I say, wrinkling my nose as the scent fills the car.

“Your father fucking does,” he groans, turning to look at me with glassy blue eyes. He gives me a wide smile, reaching over to cup my face and kiss me.

I gasp.

He never does that in public like this, usually it’s at home or in a secluded parking garage. “Thank you for rescuing me,” he murmurs, and puts a hand on my thigh as I start to pull onto the highway.

I squeak, something about the intimacy making my heart race. We arrive at home and he lurches out of the car. “Hold on, big guy,” I drawl, hurrying to get out and walking over to steady him.

“Remind me tomorrow that I hate your father,” he mumbles. “The two of you and your penchant for tequila is going to be the death of me.”

I chuckle and get under his arm, leading him in the house and up the stairs, kicking the door shut behind me.

I get him in his room and he plops down heavily on the bed, the box springs groaning. I start to unlace his boots.

“You’re too good to me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I look at him curiously. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’ve literally never seen you drunk.”