Page 8 of Oops Baby for the Mafia Boss
“Oh. Okay. But shall I update you on what happened in the bits you miss?”
There we go.
I smile, because she’s perfect. Too sweet and good and considerate for me, but if I can win her, I don’t care how mismatched we are. She nods, then answers the phone, and I walk away, leaving my heart behind.
I’m going to buy her an engagement ring today.
She’ll be mine, though I don’t know how. Yet.
3
EMILY
Three months later
I’ve only been at my desk for a few minutes when Markov shadows the door, a little earlier than usual.
“Good morning!” I greet him.
Something dark and knowing in his expression makes butterflies take off low in my tummy. Or maybe tiny dragons would be more appropriate.
But then he smiles, just a small quirk of his lips.
I get a surprising number of smiles out of the big, scary, silent kingpin. Not toothy grins, he’s a Russian mobster, after all. But one would be a shock, and what I can’t believe is that he’s begun to regularly smile at me in the last few months. He even laughs sometimes when I tell him the summary of the parts of the book he missed because I listened on my commute.
It’s my dirty little secret that I’ve started only listening on the way home, so I have the time on the bus in the morning to think up how best to phrase the action. To make it witty and cute.
Because “I fell in love with a penniless girl half my age because of how she summarised a story” is totally plausible.
There’s something about Markov though. He’s such a contrast to everyone else, who never listen to me at all. And the fact he doesn’t seem to care about my menial archiving work, total lack of life experience and witty banter, and what a bad daughter I am makes me cherish these moments every morning.
Live for them, even.
I might have a teeny crush on my boss.
He saunters into the small office, and I’m struck all over again by his gorgeousness. He’s wearing a dark suit that’s somehow more flattering than his usual, and he’s normally six out of five chillies.
Nothing can spoil this. Not even an icky feeling that Denis will make it awkward after I’ve ignored his suggestive comments for weeks now, and politely declined his offer on Friday afternoon for us to get to know each other better.
He’s not my type. Partly because my type is strong and silent, tall, dark and handsome, and grumpy except when he laughs with me at the audiobooks we listen to together.
The latest book in theGame of Thorns and Dragonsseries has just been released, and while we’ve enjoyed other books in between times, Markov made his preferences very clear. When I told him I had the new audiobook and asked if he wanted to swap, he had it playing within half a second.
“Solene and Rovaj are stuck in a cave together because of a storm. They’re driving each other batty.”
His eyes sparkle at my terrible pun.
“They’re between a rock and a hard place, and Rovaj better watch out in the dark because Solene might be more deadly than the lightning outside.”
His smile is wry, and I feel my mouth tug up in return. They’re still enemies, but since they’ve been on this mission to find the chalice of life to save the dragon they both want, it has seemed less and less like arguing and more like foreplay.
“It’s cold, and they’ve lit a fire.” I try to control my blush. I’ve been thinking all weekend about this book. I’m desperate to know what happens next, but I’m also worried.
I didn’t listen further, though. That would be cheating.
“And they’re talking as they try to sleep.”
He swallows, and doesn’t quite meet my eyes, the bump of his throat drawing my attention to his stubble-covered jaw.
