Mob Mistress Read Online Free Page B

watching the passersby.
    “So tell me about this job you’re applying for,” he said, surprising her with what seemed like genuine interest. She told him, heating under his attention and appreciative gaze. When he wasn’t looking, she studied him, too, remembering their sex the night before. She thought of him naked — all chiseled muscle, dark, manly curls dusting his chest. Using him out of financial desperation was not really a sacrifice. He didn’t seem like the kind who had to buy a lover. In fact, she was surprised he didn’t have women throwing themselves at his feet. Of course, maybe he did...
    He drove to his apartment and parked in an underground parking lot, leading her to the elevator with his hand at her low back. He kissed her on the way up, melting her nervous energy with each persistent stroke of his tongue. By the time they reached his floor, her skin tingled for his touch.
    “So this is the place,” Bobby said, tossing her the keys after he opened the door to his apartment. “The washer and dryer are in that closet over there. Garbage gets dumped in the bin in the parking garage. The cleaners come in every other Tuesday, around noon.”
    His Chicago high-rise apartment shone with posh polished hardwood floors, travertine tile countertops, gleaming stainless appliances. She had never lived in any sort of luxury — her middle-class Kansas upbringing and ten years making ends meet in the Windy City had not afforded such opulence.
    She looked around, imagining what it would be like to make this arrangement with Bobby long-term, to move into this place and be his goomah. She looked down at the keys.
    “Are you really giving these to me? Just like that?”
    He stepped closer. “Yeah.”
    She wrinkled her brow. “But you don’t even know me. Aren’t you afraid I’ll walk off with your television or something?”
    He made a scoffing sound. “Nobody steals from Bobby Manghini.”
    The reality of his statement hit home. Of course not. No one robs a mafia boss if they want to live. The blood drained from her face.
    He noticed and wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her against him. “Hey,” he said softly. “That wasn’t a threat. I know you wouldn’t steal from me.”
    “How do you know?” she persisted.
    “I know people. You have moral standards.”
    “What else do you think you know about me?”
    “I know the fact that you need this place is the only reason you’re considering getting involved with a guy like me. I know it goes against your better instincts. But I also know you liked the sex and you’re ready for more.”
    She stared at him, shocked at how easily he had read her. Her nipples had gone hard at the mention of sex — he’d been right on all accounts. She did want him again. Licking her lips, she said, “So, how would this work?”
    “Here’s the deal. You make yourself available to me. If you’re not working at the hair salon, your time is mine. You don’t have to sit around and wait for me — I’ll text you in advance, but you don’t tell me you’re busy, got it? If you have plans, you change them.”
    “Got it.”
    “No men here, ever. You don’t sleep with or date other men.”
    “ Capisce ,” she said, trying out her Italian.
    His lips twitched. “ Capito ,” he corrected.
    “Sorry. I’m a quick learner, I promise.”
    “Yeah, you’re a smart girl, I know that. You listen more than you talk and you don’t make stupid remarks.”
    “Is that your definition of smart?”
    He looked amused, his brown eyes all-knowing, the thick dark lashes giving him a permanently sultry look. “Yeah.”
    A lick of heat set her pussy on fire when their eyes caught and held.
    “You are my goomah. That means you don’t mix with my immediate family. I will count on your discretion.”
    “Of course,” she agreed.
    “One more rule. The most important one,” he said holding her eyes with an intensity that made her belly flip. He took on a stern look. “You