Conquered by the Mafia Boss

He makes a face at the question, quickly hiding his discomfort under a smile. “Can’t complain.”

The guy can’t stand talking about himself, can he?

“Was your dad like you?”

At the mention of his dad, Johnny compulsively grabs his wineglass. “He was in the life, yeah.”

I’m startled by the grittiness in his voice. “What was he like?”

His eyes cut into me as every trace of warmth recedes from his body. I feel it like a wave of frost curling around my limbs. He gives me a look as though it’s none of my fucking business.

“I’m just trying to get to know you.”

“You don’t need to know anything about my dad for that.”

He looks like he might snap the stem of his wineglass. Fine, I’ll drop it. It’s not worth him getting pissed off, but he changes tack with lightning speed.

“What did you want to do before you met me?”

A sagging feeling makes me slump over the table. The hair salon. Beauty school. Both dreams, crushed. I can’t stand to talk about it now.

“It’s stupid.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Come on.”

Fine.

“I wanted to go to beauty school, and I worked at the café because I was going to save up money to move out and work at a hair salon. Maybe have my own business, one day.”

It was a stupid, modest dream, but it was mine.

There. Go on. Laugh at me.

But he doesn’t laugh. “That’s not stupid. Lots of my guys’ wives work in hair salons. Who gives a fuck?”

Seeing him shrug it off lightens a huge weight sitting on my chest.

“My dad said it was a waste of money. He wanted me to stay in the compound, date a biker, and watch everyone’s kids. Anyway, he made me quit my job and refused to pay for the school.” I shrug hopelessly. “And now I’m here.”

And now I’m depressed.

“What was it about it that you liked so much?”

I stare at the small hole in the plastic tablecloth, avoiding his gaze because I don’t want to see how sorry he feels for me.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I was supposed to go to college, and then that fell through because my dad thought it was a waste of time, so I shouldn’t be surprised that he thought beauty school was a waste of time, too.”

He frowns at me as the waiter drops a deep-red pizza in front of us, the cooked tomato aroma hitting my stomach immediately. Shit, that smells delicious.

“My father said the same thing to me.”

“What?”

“He never really gave a shit about education. He just wanted me to start working for him. You know, help provide for the family.”

We’re quiet for a moment as he cuts a slice for me and slides the wedge onto my plate. He cuts one for himself, slicing into the plate with a knife so loudly that the ceramic shrieks and I wince.This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

I guess he still hates his dad.

He picks up a knife and fork, cutting into the slice.

“You seriously eat pizza with a knife and fork?”

He looks at me, his utensils raised. “What?”

I sputter with laughter as he gives me a serious look. “I never took you as a prissy guy.”

“I get my hands dirty all the damn time.”

Then he winks at me and my heart squeezes.

“So pussy juice is okay but tomato sauce isn’t?”

“Don’t talk like that here-”

“I seem to remember you laying on filthy lines at me at that sausage place.”

“That was different. People know me here for being-”

“-For eating your pizza with a knife and fork.”

“Come on.”

“I promise you that they gossip about it.”

He drops the knife and fork and grabs the slice with his hands, tearing off a piece with his mouth as he stares at me, chewing. “Are you done breaking my balls?”

“Why? It’s so much fun.”

Hell, I’m actually smiling for the first time in days. We eat the rest of the meal in comfortable silence and I feel as though a little weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I still don’t know much about him, but I learned a few bits. At least he has a sense of humor.

“Mr. Cravotta, thank you so much for coming. I hope you have a pleasant evening.”

Johnny gives the waiter a genial smile as he stands up, slapping a bunch of bills on the table.