Page 42 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
He shrugs, feigning innocence. “I don’t know… is there a note?”
I look again; there is.
To Siena, for all your hard work, and because you deserve something sweet.
“Thanks, Dario,” I murmur. “But don’t make me eat all these on my own.”
“If you need help, sign me up.”
We sit on the couch, side by side, our legs touching just like they did at lunch. Something as simple as thigh-on-thigh touch shouldn’t provoke this feeling in me, but I can’t help it.
Tension curls around me, grips me, holds me tight in its embrace. Together, we devour the chocolates like a pair of teenagers sneaking a snack before dinner. He looks at me, light in his eyes, and I laugh as I wipe chocolate from his mouth.
“Mr. Old Money is a messy eater. Who would’ve guessed?”
He turns away, but not before I catch the look on his face.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Then why the sulky face?”
“My bad–I forgot you’re supposed to be the grumpy one, eh?”
“Seriously, did I say something wrong? I know you’re more than your bank balance, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Nah, beautiful. I’m just concerned that you’re being nice to me, is all. Makes my head spin.”
“That’s what friends do, right? Be nice to each other?”
After the chocolate, I stand and gesture to the bed. He rises to his feet, moves to touch me, then frowns when I back away again.
It’s difficult not to let him touch me. Also, fighting the physical urge inside. But somehow, I manage it.
I grab the sheet, and he takes the other end, and together, we tie it up. Then we step into the bathroom and brush our teeth–in front of the mirror, together.
“This must be what it’s like to be a couple,” he says, smirking at me in the mirror.
As I process his words, I get a glimpse of what he means by my guilty smile. The corner of my lip twitches, then turns into a frown.Why can’t she just let herself be happy? I think for one surreal moment, as if I’m looking at someone else.
We return to the bedroom together. I change into some PJs despite the heat, not wanting to tempt fate by stripping down to my underwear. The moment I climb into bed, the sheet dividing the room falls down.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Dario says from the other side of the room. He’s on his feet, shirtless, his muscles on full display, his ripped chest and rock-hard abs. “I know what game you’re playing.”
I prop myself up on my elbows, eyebrow raised. “Game?”
“You purposefully tied the sheet wrong, knowing it’d fall. You can’t fool me, angel.”
I like when he calls me angel and beautiful and other terms of endearment, but I try not to let it show. Judging from his knowing, confident expression, I fail.
“Care to give me a hand?” he says.
I climb out of bed. “Sure, but this time, I’m double checkingbothknots.”
We tie the sheet into place again, and I ensure both fastenings are secure. Once we’re done, he peels back the sheet and gazes at me.
“Good enough?”
