Page 54 of Knocked Up by My Dad's Mafia Boss

Reese tries to scramble out of the car when I pull up, but Samantha grabs him, hugs him tightly, and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Thanks for tonight,” she breathes, and Reese glares at her, clearly not a part of her game.

She’s only doing this to piss you off, I tell myself.Reese wouldn’t touch her. He’s too afraid.

But is he?

What happens behind closed doors?

Whenever she’s at a party or a bar and I’m not there? I know Ricardo doesn’t fucking watch her like I do.

Samantha climbs into the front seat awkwardly, nearly going ass over teakettle, but I don’t help steady her.

I can’t touch her right now.

If I do, I’ll break.

Tell hersmittenis a fucking understatement. That I’m in love with her and if she doesn’t stop talking about Ethan or Derek or Reese or whoever the fuck, I’m going to lose my mind.

She finally seats herself and I wait for her to buckle her seatbelt too slowly, trying not to grind my teeth.

I don’t say a word as I take her back home.

She’s pulling out her phone, and I can’t help but glance over at the screen, seeing the contact number forDerek.

I’m going to wreck the fucking car.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I ask in a low voice, even though my brain is screaming at me to shut up.

“I’m doing whatever the fuck I want.”

“Your father–”

“Don’t fucking pretend this is about my father.”

My jaw tightens. “You’re drunk.”

“Yeah? So? I’m a grown woman. I can get drunk with my friend if I want to.”

She’s texting something and I can’t stop myself from grabbing her phone and throwing it in the backseat.

“Hey!” She tries to clamber after it, but she forgets to take her seatbelt off. I keep one hand on the steering wheel and slam my other across her waist.

“Stop it.”

She huffs but doesn’t try again, looking at me with glassy brown eyes. “You don’t get to ignore me for days and then tell me what to do with my time.”

“I’m not telling you what to do. I’m telling you whatnotto do.”

“If I want a boyfriend, I’ll have a boyfriend,” she says stubbornly. I squeeze my eyes shut for a split second as I punch in the code for the gate.

I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, full of nervous energy, as I wait for it to creak open.

Elio needs to oil that fucking thing.

We pull up and Samantha clumsily takes off her seatbelt, getting out of the car and bracing herself on it.

Used to be I’d scoop her up, carry her inside.

This time I just watch her stumble her way to the door, her stilettos dangling from one hand.