Page 6 of Rent a Mob Boss

“Oh, jeez. I really didn’t mean to sleep so long. It’s just, Lillie had me running around… and I was up late studying last night… I thought I’d just take a quick nap before driving home, because I didn’t want to be on the road half asleep…” I wonder if she knows she babbles when she’s nervous.

“You made the right decision. I wouldn’t want you jeopardizing yourself.” Dear Lord, could I sound more stuffy and pretentious? I doubt there’s any way I could tell her how important it is to me that she takes care of herself without overwhelming her.

The phone on the floor is as good a segue as any. I pick it up and hold it out. “Your mom wants a name for the caterer.”

A fresh blush colors her face, her neck, probably her feet under those mismatched socks. “Thanks. She has great timing, doesn’t she?” She’s chewing her lip, staring down at the message.

Don’t do it. I know better than to dig any deeper. Her life is none of my business. I don’t always make the right choice.

“So? Do you have anyone in mind?” I should lay off her, too. She’s obviously uncomfortable. It isn’t fair, dragging this out all because I want an excuse to spend a few more minutes with her. I should wish her a good night and send her on her way.

Instead, I sit at the other end of the couch. “After all, your mom needs a final number for the caterer.”

She blows out a sigh, swinging her legs around until her feet touch the floor. She runs her hands through her blonde waves, trying to get them under control. “I don’t have anyone to take. It’s my sister’s engagement party. Next weekend—I mentioned it this morning.”

She looks miserable. “You aren’t looking forward to it, I gather.”

“Not really. But you know. Family.” She lets out a soundless laugh with absolutely no humor behind it.

“I know something about family pressure,” I murmur, and it’s the truth. Maybe not the exact same kind of pressure she’s under, but still. Expectations can be a bitch.

“It wouldn’t matter, me coming alone,” she explains, picking at the corner of the blanket, still afraid to look at me. “But my ex is going to be there. Aaron. Considering he’s dating the girl from his office who he cheated on me with, I’m guessing he’ll be there with her. Our dads are business partners, so it’s a whole thing.”

Who in their right mind would cheat on this girl? “He sounds like a loser,” I blurt out.

She snorts. “Yeah, well, he’s the loser with a date, and I don’t have anybody. I’ve actually been wondering since this morning if I should just pay someone to show up and hold my hand and be normal. Just so I’m there with somebody. Just so I don’t look like a hopeless wreck.”

“I don’t think you would.”

“Thanks,” she murmurs.

“So, you want to hire an escort?”

“No!” It comes out as a squeak, her eyes finally leaving the blanket and finding mine. Clear and blue, they remind me of the ocean. “No, not like that. Just somebody to show up with me, so I’m not the sad one. That’s it, that’s the whole thing, and I hate that I said it out loud,” she adds, looking down again. Even her ears are red.

Fuck me sideways. There’s a man out there who had this—her, sitting across the table, looking at him the way she doesn’t realize she looks at people—and he weighed it against some other girl and made the wrong choice. I’ve made a lot of hard calls in my life, but I can’t make this one make sense. It’s the stupidest trade I’ve ever heard of, and I don’t even know who the other girl is. It doesn’t matter.

“What if I come?” I suggest before the thought has fully formed.

She makes a choked sound, looking at me again. “What?”

“To the party.” I say it flat, like it’s already a done deal. “You need a date to show up and hold your hand, then leave with you. I can do that.”

“You’re my boss, Mr. Moretti.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“You don’t come to an engagement party for your nanny.”

“Who knows? I’ve never been asked to one before. Maybe I’d like it.” I have to stand now, because being this close to her is a bad idea. “Think about it. You don’t have to decide tonight, no matter what your mom says.”

She’s already up, gathering her shoes, looking around like there’s something she can’t find. “I should go home. I can’t believe I slept so long; it’s so late.”

“You are not driving at this time of night.”

“I’ve done it before,” she insists. For some reason, she still doesn’t want to look at me.

“The guest room is always made up,” I remind her. “Right across from Lillie’s room. Everything you need is in the bathroom. I won’t rest unless I know you’re safe and sound.”