Page 4 of The Mobster’s Nurse

"Would it hurt to check?" I ask carefully.

"All the other horses are given the same supplements," he says, stepping forward. "What makes you think Lucky is so different?"

"Just—"

"I think we're done here. Yes?"

Go fuck yourself, you fucking fuck face.

"Yes," I say politely.

I leave the building. Feeling his eyes burn into my back. I swagger my sexy ass more than I usually would to burn him back.

In the sunlight, I spot a silhouette striding toward me. Confident strides. He's huge, with wide shoulders, six-five at least. I can't make out his features until he gets close enough to block the sun.

I almost gasp. Get it together, Ellie. His eyes are a brown that almost looks red. His face is clean-shaven, with a strong, square jaw; a smile threatens at the corner of his mouth. His hair is black with subtle hints of silver. I'd guess he's around thirty, older than me.

Unlike almost everybody else, he's not dressed like a rancher. He wears a suit with the top button undone. Showing a sliver of marbled muscle that causes my breath to catch in my throat. His arms are thick, straining the fabric of his suit jacket.

"Elena Cruz, I'm guessing," he says confidently, like he's already confirmed my identity. He offers me his outstretched hand. "Luca Moretti."

Luca Moretti. Dario's son. I've heard whispers about him — tall and dark and dangerous. But he works in the city and rarely comes here. It takes me too long to take his hand.

The second I touch him, electric sparks between us. Really — like static. My heart beats too hard in my chest. My mind strips him. Tears off his clothes. How hard are those muscles when there's no fabric to soften them?

And why is he looking at me like he's angry and … and something else at the same time?

"I'm told you worked for a charity before coming here," he says, still holding my hand. Warmth blazes between us.

"Yah," I murmur. "I mean, yes."

Yah? Yah? Did I seriously just say that?

He finally lets my hand go, and the corner of his lip twitches. "I'm told that your old boss attempted to use some of the dogs for a fighting ring. You found out. Got evidence. Had him … arrested." He tilts his head. "At twenty-two years old. Alone." His voice grows huskier when he says “arrested”.

A shiver runs over my body. The fact that he knows this — that he's clearly done a deep dive into my life in the past hour — should terrify me. It does terrify me. It also does something else entirely that I refuse to name. But my body reacts to immediately.

"I can turn a blind eye to many things," I say as coherently as I can. Straightening my back. Looking him directly in the face, even if fear is mingling with the sudden, insane lust coiling in my body. "But not the abuse of animals. Never that, Mr. Moretti."

"Luca," he growls.

"Okay … Luca."

He nods, half-turns away. "Come with me."

I swallow, staring at his huge arm, his powerful form. My mind spirals into impossible scenarios, like riding him on a haybale as he sinks his huge hands into my hips and moans my name. Makes me his. Makes me burn.

"Why?"

He stops, turns back. Raises his eyebrows in amusement. "Why," he mutters. "Why." He laughs darkly. "Come, Elena."

I should do what he says. Everybody knows this is a mobbed-up place. But I've never cared. The animals have the best care imaginable. Training and love and attention and medicine.

"I haven't done anything wrong," I tell him.

"I'm not saying you have," he snaps. "I've spent the last hour learning all about you. Are you going to make me ask again?"

Shut up, Ellie.