Page 31 of Knocked Up by My Dad's Mafia Boss

“Always does.”

I pour us another margarita when we walk back out to the pool, sitting closer to him on the lounge next to him. “So Felicia’s going to win, I think,” I say idly, talking about the reality show we’re watching.

“I dunno. I think Bill is going to give her a run for her money.”

I frown. “Bill? Come on, please, he’s a pushover.”

He shrugs. “People like him. That goes a long way in these shows.”

“I think I’d do pretty well on a show like that.”

He snorts. “You would. All you’d have to do is pout and bat those brown eyes and you’d get them to do whatever you want.”

I smirk. “Damn right.”

He checks his watch after we chat for a while longer. “Almost time for our show to start.”

My chest seems to swell.Our show. God. I’m in too deep already. I should just go into my room, hole myself up for a few days, try and stop thinking about how his arms feel around me, how his lips feel against mine.

I think about it. I could beg off, say the margarita and the sun gave me a headache. He wouldn’t protest.

But it’s so rare that he’s loose like this with me, talking, laughing. He looks so handsome when he smiles. And the fact that I can make him smile… make him happy… it does something to me.

“Pour me another margarita and let’s go.”

He frowns slightly but pours us each another, the last of the pitcher. We head into the living room and he sits down on the couch, flipping on the television. I sit next to him, crossing my legs, our thighs nearly touching but not quite. “The season finale is coming on tomorrow night.”

“It’s already aired, I could probably look it up,” he says idly, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

I frown and grab his wrist. His eyes shoot to mine and something electric passes between us. “Don’t you dare.”

I slowly drop my hand.

“Alright, alright. We’ll watch.”

“Together. This is our thing now.”

He gives me a half-smile. “Oh? We have a thing now?”

“Yes. Papa’s out of town so you have to entertain me.”

“Do I?” He looks bemused. “I don’t remember that being part of the job description.”

I hum. “You didn’t read the fine print.”

He laughs out loud and looks at me for a moment before turning his eyes to the television. We watch and I make commentary about the fashion choices. He just hums or grunts in response. It’s about all I can expect from my man of few words.

Wait.

My man?

My heart races. What’s wrong with me? There’s no future in this. It’s just… fun.

Dante seems less stiff than usual and maybe it’s the tequila. I’m grateful, because I need his touch like air. When I lean my head on his shoulder he doesn’t pull away. I slowly put my hand on his and he still doesn’t pull away.

My heart might gallop out of my chest like a wild horse. I intertwine our fingers, his hand enveloping mine. He doesn’t react. Doesn’t squeeze my hand, but doesn’t pull away.

“Samantha.”