Page 28 of That Time I Played the Mafia Boss

“I’d prefer no flirting.”

She hums, ignoring what I’ve just said. “I could conjugate verbs, do calculus, alphabetize your guns…”

I cross my arms. Truly bold of her to assume they aren’t already alphabetized.

“Stop me when you hear something that simply infatuates.”

My index finger hammers against my bicep, and I’m genuinely pissed that it’s more difficult to be upset with her when there’s a beautiful spreadsheet behind her. It’s foolishness. Yet I can’t stop myself from deeply appreciating the way her mind works.

She knows what she’s doing.

And it’s giving me a migraine.

But it is fricken divine.

Too knowing for my liking, she smiles and readdresses Chip. “As far as concerns about an amusement park being too generic of a date location go, just because something is popular doesn’t make it any less fun. One could surmise popularity stems from a statistic that most are pleased with the experience.”

In unison, her underboss couple accept her explanation with exaggerated fanfare—oohs, ahhs, clapping.

A swear grumbles through my head.

This could have been a slew of emails.

A slew of very short emails.

Do you want to go to an amusement park with me?

No.

Okay, where would you like to go in order to maintain our façade?

A bookstore.

Excellent choice, sir. I’ll even wear normal clothes.

My delusions astound even me. Did she think that creating an entire PowerPoint presentation was going to gloss over the fact we don’t need to go on any dates? Our relationship is a political arrangement. We have no reason to fabricate emotional attachment, and given the instability of my family right now, I’d prefer if no one decide I care.

About her.

Or anything.

Ever.

The only logical conclusion is that she’s trying to make herself particularly stabbable.

“Anything to add, pet?” she asks.

“You lied to me about having a lead. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have a lead.”

Confusion muddles her brows. “I didn’t lie. I have a lead. And I’d like for us to handle it personally, ergo unassuming location in which to meet with my contact.”

That throbbing start of a migraine pierces behind my left eye. “Briar, why the—” I swear. “—didn’t you start with that?”

Her shoulders slump as her full bottom lip pouts. “Because then you wouldn’t bother watching my PowerPoint. And I worked so hard on it.”

I hesitate to discover whatever she feels compelled to hide behind this façade of naivete. “Do you enjoy wasting time?”

“Do you enjoy working fruitlessly in a thankless job you hate for money you don’t care about?” Setting her hands on her hips, she glares down her petite nose at me. “Loosen up. If you’re going to be a rain cloud, appreciate the storm. Recognize the people who dance in the downpour. Find your silver lining.”

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