Page 416 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

“So what are you planning to study at UNLV?” he asks, completely knocking me off my game and catching me tangled in my salacious highlight reel.

“Oh,” I say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Business.”

Dante nods, closing the oven door and taking a seat at the kitchen island. “Seems like a smart choice.”

I shrug. “I figure it’ll help me get set up for a job.”

“What do you wanna do when you graduate?”

Heat flares in my cheeks as I try to come up with a response. Nobody has ever asked me this question before because my ‘job’ is already kind of set in stone as far as anyone knows.

And since I barely finished high school and have zero plans to get a legitimate job, I’m completely caught off-guard. Finally, I just force a laugh and shrug. “Does anyone really know what they want to do once they graduate?”

He quirks an eyebrow. “I think people generally know what kind of skills they have and how they can put them to the best use. And make the most money from them. You have any specific skills, Anya?”

“You mean, other than childcare?” I say, snickering.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean,” he says, his eyes darkening. “I have a feeling that there’s a lot more to you than meets the eye.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I say, struggling to keep my voice even. “But I’m definitely a ‘what you see is what you get’ kind of girl. I love kids, reading romance novels, and warm weather.”

“So there is more to add to my list,” he says.

“You know, you keep digging into me but…” I say, picking up the knife from the kitchen counter and twirling it around my fingers. “You were awfully skilled with that little knife trick earlier. You know, the one where you managed to get it away from me before I had a chance to slit your throat? You grab that one from your own bag of tricks?”

“I wouldn’t call it a trick. I just know how to defend myself.”

“I think that’s more than just defending yourself,” I say quietly. “And definitely not something I’d expect from a real estate investor. I’d imagine you don’t have to defend yourself against too many knife-wielding sellers, yeah?”

“I don’t know about that. I’m a pretty tough negotiator.”

We stand there, dissecting each other’s words as the delicious scents from the oven waft in the air around us.

“I can imagine.”

Dante gets up from the stool, walking over to the oven but then diverting in my direction. He backs me against the refrigerator and laces his fingers with the hand still holding the knife, sending it clattering to the floor. My pulse throbs against my neck as he presses himself against me. “Tell me what you were going to do with that knife, Anya,” he murmurs.

“I was going to protect myself,” I whisper. “And Aisling.”

“How did you know I was there?” he mutters, his forehead almost pressed against mine.

“I just…I felt something. And I didn’t know if you’d gone out. We were alone as far as I knew. Someone could have broken in…”

“Is that what you were expecting?”

“What?” I rasp.

“Waaaaah!”

I jump, Aisling’s shrill cry shattering the air through the baby monitor. I push Dante away from me, my gut clenching as I hurry down the hallway toward my room. I run inside and pick her up from the crib, settling her against my racing heart.

Jesus! I knew that knife stunt tipped him off!

He is totally onto me.

I walk the baby around until her cries turn into soft whimpers. I know I need to feed her, but I also need to get my head screwed on straight. I have to give him something…anything…to get him to trust me, at least until I get in touch with my uncle.

I let out a shallow breath and walk back toward the kitchen. Dante already has a bottle ready for her. He must have mixed it when I went to my room. He reaches out and she jumps into his arms, clawing at his hands until the nipple is secured between her lips.

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