Page 417 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

“Thank you,” I say. “You know, um, one of the reasons why I became an au pair is because I spent a lot of time volunteering with orphan babies back in New York.” I don’t even know where that came from, but it sounds good. And it is kind of an extension of a truth. I guess maybe he needs to hear it.

It also sounds like I’m grasping at straws, but I’ll take the risk.

He clearly doesn’t trust me, so why am I making up some stupid bullshit story to throw him off? To ingratiate myself with him?

So I can sleep with him again?

He sinks onto the couch as Aisling nestles into his embrace. “Volunteering, huh?”

“Yes,” I say, walking into the living room. “I started doing it when I was a teenager. My neighborhood in the city had an orphanage and I used to make clothes for the kids.” This is all true. Part of my seamstress therapy with Olga.

But I never had a desire to get close to the kids.

He narrows his eyes at me. “Interesting.”

I shrug. “I just wanted to do something to help.”

“Why?”

A lump forms in my throat. “Because I knew what it was like to not have parents,” I whisper, my voice quivering slightly. I didn’t mean for that to slip out.

I didn’t intend to give him any insight into my past.

But it does feel good to say the words, to open up and speak my truth.

It is one-hundred percent true, too.

“What happened to your parents?” he asks.

I swallow hard past the lump. “There was a break-in at my house. They were both killed. I was only thirteen.”

“That’s horrible. I’m really sorry,” he says. “I lost my mother. I know how hard that is. Can’t imagine losing both of my parents.”

I nod. “Thanks. And I’m sorry for your loss, too.”

An uncomfortable silence permeates the room. I’d intended to quell his curiosity with my tale of woe, but instead, I poured a cup of salt in my now-open wound.

Because Iamvery much alone, and that fact is more glaring than ever, considering my one lifeline is still MIA.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Dante asks.

“A brother,” I say. “But I don’t see him anymore.”

“That’s rough,” he says. “My brothers and I can go at it pretty hard, but we’re really tight.”

“Sounds nice,” I say softly.

“You should reach out to him. Figure out a way to make things better. It’s family for life, you know?”

Tears spring to my eyes and I blink them away. “ Yes. You’re right. Maybe I should try.”

“Good.” He nods toward the table. “You still hungry?”

“Ravenous,” I say with a shaky laugh.

His lips curl upward into a wicked grin. “I’d love to feast on something other than that porterhouse.”

“I’d love that, too,” I murmur.

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