Page 22 of The Mobster’s Prize
She scrapes the bowl with the spatula then moves to grease the cupcake pans. My mother is the one who stocked my kitchen with pots and pans; looks like she covered everything. I didn’t even know I had those.
“But then my dad cheated on her and she left, too. After that, the women my father dated resented the fact that he had a daughter. They thought I was a burden. So, my dad hired a nanny to deal with me. Her name was Sylvia. She liked to bake cupcakes too. I taught her my recipe, and she thought they were the best she’d ever had. But then my father fired her because she told one of his girlfriends not to speak to me so rudely. I was on my own after that. I kept baking cupcakes because it was a comfort. It reminded me of all the happy moments in my life. Which weren’t very many.”
I reach for her, pulling her between my legs, cradling her soft cheeks. “I don’t like the way that man treated you.”
She nuzzles into my touch, kissing my palm. Underneath her attitude is something soft and sweet. The more I see of it, the more I want to be close to her.
“I’m sorry you’re caught in his mess, baby. But I can promise you, your father’s shit is no longer going to touch you. I’m going to see to it.”
I intend to have a talk with Dario and fill him in on the situation. Let him know that Santone’s daughter needs our protection. She doesn’t even know what her father does for a living. I almost don’t have the heart to break it to her. She knows he runs a shady business, but she has no clue he’s a drug dealer.
“You’re not what I expected,” she says. “For a mobster, you’re kind of nice.”
“Yeah, well, don’t go telling my boss that. He may think I’m getting soft.”
Her hand reaches between my legs, brushing over my cock, looking up with those wanting eyes.
“Definitely not soft.”
Not when it comes to her. I can’t seem to get my fill.
“You keep doing that and I’m taking you back to bed.”
“No.” She lets me go, pulling out of my hold. “I don’t want the cupcakes to burn.”
Damn, I want her.
She moves to the oven, doing her thing, working with the cutest little smile on her face. It does something to me. And every time she glances over, or comes and gives me a little kiss, the tension that’s been building these last few months lightens. I was coming out here to get away from the noise, but her noise is something I’m beginning to grow fond of.
“So, why don’t you want to date a mobster?” I ask, fishing for personal reasons.
She places the hot pan on the stove and closes the oven, taking the oven mitt off before she turns.
“Because I don’t like the idea of my husband being caught up in a world of crime. Or… him getting hurt. I’d be afraid the cops would show up to arrest him, and my kids would be left without a father.”
“You do know it’s less likely for me to get hurt being in the family than living an ordinary life. I’m protected by people’s fear of what will happen if they cross us. That includes the cops.” They wouldn’t cross us either or they’d have hell to pay. They’d also lose their payouts each month.
Her brow cocks. She seems to be fighting back a smile.
“Is that your sales pitch?” She steps between my legs, her eyes warming along with her cheeks. “Are you trying to convince me that I should give you a chance?”
I think I am.
She’s not like the women I’ve dated in the past. Her sole focus isn’t money. She almost despises it based on the comments she’s made. And she doesn’t come across as being pretentious either. As far as trusting her, something tells me I can. But it’s still to be determined.
“I don’t think I have to do too much convincing.” I pull her closer, eager for a taste of her lips. “I think you’re interested in me. I can see it in your eyes.” I lean in, kissing her lips, tasting the sweetness of the icing on her tongue. She’s fucking scrumptious, driving me crazy with this mouth.
I pull back, letting her catch her breath, ready to take her back to bed.
“Are the cupcakes finished?”
“I need to put in another pan.”
“How long do they need to bake?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Go put them in.”
