Page 4 of Knocked Up by My Dad's Mafia Boss

“You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“And why not?”

“You’re just a little girl.”

I scoff. “What part of me lookslittleto you?”

This time, when he glances at me, I can feel the heat come off him. It’s a hungry glance, one that sweeps over the bare line of my thigh. I spread my legs just slightly and he clears his throat, then looks right back at the road.

I can’t stop grinning as I get out of his SUV and walk inside. I go straight up to my room, not wanting Papa to see the flush on my cheeks.

Dante Bianchi.

The hottest guy I’ve seen in a long time. And my father’s best friend, to boot.

That shouldn’t make me want him more.

2

DANTE

Three years pass, and I try to see Samantha Capetti as little as possible. Which isn’t easy, since her father isn’t just my best friend but my boss. Sometimes I have to pick her up from bars. She’s a bit of a club rat, loves to dance. I try not to think about it too much.

She’s twenty-five now, and no less outgoing and flirty as she was at twenty-two.

Christ.She’s just a kid. Which is why I shouldn’t be looking at her thick thighs as she hustles toward the SUV, putting her hand on the door.

“Mr. Bianchi,” she breathes, even though I’ve repeatedly asked her to call me Dante.

With all the time that’s passed, though, I think if she used my first name I might combust.

I grunt in response. She pouts. “What about ‘hello, Sam. Nice to see you again.’”

I roll my eyes, but a ghost of a smile plays at one corner of my mouth. “Hello, Samantha.”

She draws in a sharp breath. When I look at her she’s staring at me, pouting mouth parted.

Fuck.I look away, back at the road.

Samantha hasn’t exactly thrown herself at me, but it’s a near thing. I know for a fact that if I’d let her, she’d seduce me.

Which is why I have to stay vigilant. Because she’s off limits. Even if she does make my heart race.

I drive her back home and she tilts her head on her hand against the window, looking out. She seems a little melancholy. I hate that it makes me worry.

“Did you have a good night?”

“Mm.”

I raise an eyebrow. “That’s not much of an answer.”

She shrugs.

I frown. It’s not normal for her to be so quiet. “No one messed with you, did they?”

She snorts. “If they did, Papa taught me how to use my knives.”

Atta girl.I nod. “Just making sure.”