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They were seated quickly and ordered their burgers. Paulo added, “Make sure the fries are extra crispy.”

“Yes, Mr. Ruffino,” the waiter said with a deferential nod. “I’ll bring them right out.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Madelaine murmured, wrapping both hands around her cold beer. “But thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He stared into her eyes a beat too long before he asked, “You mentioned acting as your father’s hostess. What was that like?”

“He liked showing off. Loved doing something outrageous just to see the scandalized looks on people’s faces.”

Paulo arched a brow. “What did he consider outrageous?”

She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. “One night, he stabbed a man’s hand with a fork at the table, and afterward, he just laughed and laughed. Another night…” she paused to take a steadying breath, “I walked into the dining room after everyone had gone and found a dead man on the floor. I didn’t see it happen, but I’m pretty sure my father killed him.”

“Why didn’t you call the police?” Paulo demanded, horrified.

“Because my father had half the local force on his payroll.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Don’t you?”

“Don’t I what?”

They both paused as the waiter reappeared, setting down a basket of fries so golden and crispy they looked airbrushed. Once the man retreated, she picked up the thread again.

“Don’t you have police officers on your payroll?”

“No comment.” Paulo leaned forward, chose a fry, and blew on it before dunking it into the ketchup. He took half of it in one bite, chewed, then nodded solemnly. “These are good.”

Madelaine picked one up daintily, only to drop it back in the basket with a yelp when it burned her fingers. She shook out her hand, blowing on her fingertips. “How much does it cost?”

His brow lifted. “How much does what cost?”

“A police force.” Her tone was innocent, and her eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity.

“I’m not answering that, Madelaine.” He dropped a few fries onto her appetizer plate. “Eat. Maybe then you’ll stop asking questions.”

Her grin widened. “Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re doing nefarious things that require police cover-ups.”

“I don’t require cover-ups.”

“Oh no, you just pay them off for favors. Maybe you sic the police on your enemies? Or…” she laughed when his only answer was to arch an eyebrow, “…maybe you just get your parking tickets fixed. That’s it, isn’t it? Paulo Ruffino, mob boss and crusader against expired meters.”

He rolled his eyes skyward. “I am not a saint. And you’re asking way too many questions.”

“So, that’s a yes,” she decided sweetly. “You’re a naughty parker.”

Before he could retort, the waiter reappeared, setting down burgers stacked high with toppings, juice dripping down the buns.

“Oh my,” Madelaine gasped. “This looks divine.” She pulled out the toothpick and took a huge bite, her eyes fluttering shut. “Ohhh,” she sighed around her mouthful, pressing her fingers to her lips as she chewed. “This is incredible.”

Paulo just watched silently.

Her eyes snapped open in alarm as she swallowed the bite. “What? Do I have something on my face?” She dabbed at her mouth with the napkin, panicked.

He shook his head slowly. Then, with a sigh, picked up his own burger. “I just hadn’t realized how damn nice it is to watch a woman eat real food.”

Then he took a bite, and for once, looked thoroughly satisfied.

Chapter 15

Paulo was not going to survive this.