The Mafia King’s Doll

Samantha

Walking into my apartment, I glance at the window and let out a sigh when I see another bouquet of flowers.

My freaking place looks like a flower store!

Yanking my phone out of my handbag, I press dial on Mr. Vitale’s number.

Not even a second passes when he answers, “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t move around in my apartment,” I complain. “Stop with the flowers, Mr. Vitale.”

I glance around at all the colorful arrangements and shake my head. It looks like a unicorn puked everywhere.

“I’ll stop on one condition,” he murmurs. “I’m not ready to talk about us,” I warn him.

It’s been over two weeks, and I still can’t bring myself to make a decision. One moment, I’m willing to give things a try between us, and the next, I shut it down because Mr. Vitale is, and always will be, a mafia boss.

“I want you to call me Franco,” he murmurs.

“Oh.” I narrow my eyes. “Is that it? Will you stop leaving flowers at my window?”

“Yes.”

“Fine,” I sigh as I drop my handbag on the couch and walk to the window to retrieve the latest peace offering.

“So you didn’t throw any of the flowers I left for you in the trash?” he asks.

“Of course not. They didn’t do anything wrong.”

He chuckles, and the sound has my heart beating faster.

I’ve barely seen him because he’s staying away from the companies until he’s dealt with whoever attacked us.

That’s another reason why I’m hesitant to give things a chance between

us.

“How did things go at the office today?” he asks.

“Good.” I tuck the device between my ear and shoulder and lift the

arrangement into my apartment. Shutting the window, I say, “I’m not talking with you about work. That’s what office hours are for.”

“Fair enough.” His tone is laced with amusement. “What would you like to talk about?”

“Nothing. I just called to tell you to stop with the flowers. I’m hanging up.”

Before I can end the call, he admits, “I miss you.”Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

I press my lips together so I don’t say the words back to him and make a non-committal sound.

“Can I come up?”

A frown appears on my forehead. “You’re here?”

“Yes. I dropped the flowers off a couple of minutes ago.” I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please.”

I glance at the window, and seeing Franco standing there, I startle. “You’re sneaky,” I whisper into the phone.

“All is fair in love and war.”

I move closer to the window and lock eyes with him through the glass.

We stare at each other for close to a minute while I try to sort through my feelings about him being here.

Giving in, I end the call and unlock the window.

Franco pushes it open, and I watch as he climbs inside. When he straightens to his full height, he tucks his phone into his pocket.

This is the first time he’s come through the window wearing a suit and not his uniform from Paradiso, and it makes everything more real.

It merges my mystery man with my boss, and my confused mind gets a little more clarity.

My heart, on the other hand, starts to beat faster and faster until it’s a mere fluttering in my chest.

When I started working at Vitale Health, I had a crush on Mr. Vitale.

Just like every other woman in the building.

Of course, it died a quick death when I became his PA, but now it’s back. Add to that my love for my mystery man, and I feel a little overwhelmed.

I move to one of the couches and sit down. Staring at the coffee table, I try to shove my feelings down because I need to be sensible about the situation.

Franco takes a seat next to me, and he places his hand palm up on his thigh.

My eyebrows draw together as I lay my hand in his.

His fingers weave with mine, then he says, “Christ, I missed you.”

I missed you too.

Lifting my hand to his mouth, he presses a kiss to my skin. My heart wars with my mind, and I feel a little lost.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks.

Closing my eyes, I lean against his shoulder. I smell his aftershave and feel how solid he is beside me.

“Even if I can look past you deceiving me, it won’t matter, because you’re one of the heads of the Cosa Nostra.” I suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly before I continue, “At the end of the day, you’re a criminal.”

He takes a deep breath and tightens his hold on my hand before he mentions, “Honestly, the Cosa Nostra does a hell of a lot for the city. We provide jobs to thousands. We keep the gangs in check. We keep drugs off the streets. It’s one of the reasons the police look the other way. We do half their job for them.”

I didn’t know that.

“We don’t shit where we eat, Samantha.”

I stare at his hand as I ask the most crucial question, “How many people have you killed?”

He’s quiet for a moment before he answers, “I don’t keep count.” He lets out a sigh, then adds, “But I can promise you, I’ve never killed an innocent person.”

I pull my hand free from his, and leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and rub my hands over my face.

My voice is filled with confusion as I say, “I know you want an answer from me, but I can’t give you one. Not right now.”

“I understand, but while you think about things, can I at least see you?” He places his hand on my back, and the touch feels comforting. “Since I’m working from home, so the company doesn’t become a target, I barely get to spend time with you.”

True.

Maybe that’s part of the problem. I’m still stuck in the past where Franco and my mystery man are two different people. I’m not getting to know him any better.

Nodding, I turn my body to face Franco and lean my shoulder against the back of the couch.

The corner of his mouth lifts, and seeing him smile makes butterflies erupt in my stomach.

“You should smile more,” I mention. “I’ll make a conscious effort for you.”

Sitting in my apartment and having a normal conversation with him makes him feel less like my boss.

Franco’s eyes drift over my face, and I see his affection for me shining from them.

He looks at me as if I’m precious to him. “What are you thinking about?” he asks.

My tongue darts out, and I wet my lips. “How different you are away from the office.”

He lifts his hand to my face and trails his fingers along the curve of my jaw. “Remember when I said our appointments were helping me as well?” After I nod, he continues, “You made me realize how cold and empty my life is. You’ve added warmth and light to my life, and I don’t want to lose it.”

His words warm my heart, and when his hand wraps around the back of my neck, I don’t stop him as he pulls me closer.

His other hand takes hold of mine, pressing my palm to his chest. I feel his heart beating, and it makes me remember what he said before he allowed me to see his face.

‘Every beat is for you.’

He lowers his head, and as his mouth brushes against mine, the intense connection we have threatens to overwhelm me completely.

Before he can deepen the kiss, I pull back and whisper, “We need to take things slow until I’ve come to a decision.”

Franco nods and stares at me as if he’s trying to memorize my face. After a few seconds, he presses a kiss to my forehead, then pulls away from me and climbs to his feet.

I stand up as well, and as he walks to the window, I say, “You know you can use the front door, right?”

He lets out a chuckle. “I’ll use the window for old times’ sake.”

I watch as he climbs onto the fire escape, and when he disappears from my sight, I take a deep breath.

That went better than I expected.

Maybe there’s still hope for us.