Page 70 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
“You didn’t,” I say stiffly.
“Ah–good.”
Dario must see us talking, because he strides across the party, looking dashing in his tuxedo, the fabric hugging his hulking body tightly. Even hotter is the way his intense eyes roam over me like he can’t help himself.
“Everything okay?” he says.
“I was just complimenting Miss Walsh on the party. It’s a hit.”
This lying is getting out of hand.
“Excuse me, I’m going to get another plate… even if I shouldn’t.”
Rocco laughs and wanders off.
“He’s right,” Dario says. “It’s a great party… and you look amazing.”
“Thanks. I don’t normally wear stuff like this.”
It’s a blue number that shows off a sliver of leg and more than a glimpse of cleavage, one that I think hugs my figure.
“You look incredible,” Dario says. “Anyone would think you wore it to drive me crazy.”
He draws a smile out of me like it’s the easiest thing in the world, like there isn’t a rift between us. A rift of my own making, if I’m honest. “You might be onto something there.”
“You should be proud of this,” he says, gesturing at the party, the waterfall. “I think your mother would be proud too.”
“Are you trying to head fuck me?” I blurt.
He narrows his eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that. Earlier, you pled the Fifth, and now you’re talking about my mom, which you know will get to me. I’m not falling for that crap.”
“I’d never try to trick you to get anything from you. I wouldn’t want you like that.”
“You just can’t tell me if I’m going to sleep with a criminal or just an Old Money douche?”
He moves closer to me. “So, we’re going to sleep together?”
“Keep dreaming.”
“You just said it…”
“You’re not the only one who can tell lies.”
He looks so wounded, I almost apologize. But I stop myself.
“For what it’s worth, I meant what I said. I’d never trick you… but your mother, if she saw this,wouldbe proud. And she’d have every right to be. Why don’t you take a photo or a video to show her?”
“That’s actually not a bad idea. Why didn’t I think of that?”
He playfully bops my nose. It would be patronizing if someone else did it, but from him, it’s endearing. “Because you, Siena the Savior, are always too busy worrying about how things could go wrong.”
I take out my phone and record a video of the party, turning in a circle. When the camera pans over Dario, he flexes his arms. I laugh. “What are you doing?”
He winks. “I want to look my best…”
“Careful, muscle man, you might tear your suit.”
