Page 491 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

I hear her words loop through my mind, clear as day, but for the first time, I’m tired of being shielded and protected from people my family disapproves of.

For once, I’d like to make my own judgments, dammit!

I open my mouth, hoping words miraculously form a coherent sentence, but my brain lets me down. The lust fog is just too thick for me to formulate an intelligible response.

I twist the end of my ponytail around my fingers, still trying to force out some words. Any words. And finally, “D-dog,” I rasp. “Let’s just find the dog.”

His smile deepens and a dimple dents his right cheek.

Oh, holy hell.

A single dimple.

So much sexier than two. Two is too cutesy. But one?

Half-devil, half-angel.

The perfect combination.

We walk the rest of the way in silence. My level-headedness has never led me down the insta-lust path before, so I’m really not sure why, all of a sudden, it’s sending me there in a handbasket right now.

And I have no escape.

A sleek and discreet sign indicates that we’ve arrived at the restaurant. And if that wasn’t enough of a clue, then the stray pit bull sitting on the floor in front of a bowl of water and one of shredded steak screams that we’re in the right place.

Zeno struts over to the tall, dark-haired guy in the chef’s toque who was just kneeling next to the dog and gives him a man hug. I try not to listen to them talk as I creep over to the dog and sink down next to…

I peek around the underside to confirm.

Him.

He’s scarfing up the meat like he hasn’t eaten in days. Poor baby. His tired eyes look up at me for a slight second before returning to his meal and my heart clenches. I want to pet him, but I wait, knowing that his instinct right now is to gnaw at anything that comes close to his mouth. So I talk to him instead.

“You know, my grandpa had a dog who looked a lot like you,” I murmur in a soft voice as he slurps the water. “He had big brown eyes and dark brown hair, too. And he was sweet. I bet you’re as sweet as he was.” I don’t actually remember Grandpa’s dog because after he passed away from a heart attack one Christmas night, my dad had to find the dog a new home. My mother was never really a fan of animals, much less a pit bull, and we never saw him again after that.

The dog stops eating and looks at me again, letting out a tiny, exhausted whimper. I smile at him. “I’m going to call you Vito. That was my grandpa’s name. He was a very strong and respected man when he was alive, but he had the biggest heart. I can tell you’re the same kind of guy,” I whisper as he lifts his head, almost like he’s asking for me to pet him. I slowly reach under his chin and ruffle the soft hair. The rest of his coat is dull, and he definitely needs a bath. His eyes float closed for a split second and a little breeze flutters over my skin.

It could be the air conditioning.

Or it could be Grandpa.

I’m going with the latter.

“So, you’re like the Dog Whisperer or something?” The tall guy standing next to Zeno smirks down at me and I let out a nervous chuckle before straightening up.

“I just love animals. I’m studying to be a veterinarian, and in my spare time, I work at the animal rescue.”

The guy nods then backs away. “Hang on for a second, okay?”

“Okay,” I say, shooting a look at Zeno who shrugs.

“Does that guy work here in the restaurant?” I ask.

“You could say that.”

“Why’s that funny?” I ask.

“Because it’s his place. That’s Tommy Marcone.”

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