Page 17 of Knocked Up by My Dad's Mafia Boss
I sway to the music, throwing my head back, and it’s not long before some guy sidles up behind me, placing a hand on my waist.
I turn around. He’s cute enough. Curly, blond hair. Light where Dante is dark. Not really my type, but…
Does it matter?
It’s not like Dante will dance with me.
I can’t believe the other night even happened. It seems like a fever dream, like some fantasy I had come to life.
But I had bruises on my thighs for days afterward where he’d forced my legs apart.
I want him to do it again.
Dante’s eyes narrow, turning hard as he watches me, his expression otherwise unreadable.Oh. He doesn’t seem to like this—someone else’s hands on me.
I push back against the guy and he grunts, his other hand touching my other hip.
I don’t mind, since it’s having the desired reaction.
Dante gets closer to the dance floor, hands tightening into fists at his sides.
He stands over by the bathrooms and jerks his head as if to summon me.
I shouldn’t go. I should make him sweat. But my feet follow him like I’d follow him to hell if he asked.
Damnit.
Dante presses his body against mine, backing me up against the wall, one hand loose around my throat.
My heart skips a half dozen beats and my breath catches in my throat. He leans down close to my ear.
“Samantha.”
“Dante. Someone will see,” I squeak, blushing all over.
“See what? Me telling you to be careful who you dance with?”
“Why?”
He grits his teeth. “Because Ricci is targeting you.”
“Is that the only reason?”
He pulls away and steps back, giving me space I didn’t want. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do.”
He looks away, jaw tight.
“I guess I could go back and dance. Guy seemed nice, he–”
He scoffs. “I don’t care about what guys you’re dancing with.”
I smirk. He still won’t look at me. “I think you do.”
“Do whatever you want,” he rasps.
He sounds petty. Jealous. I fucking love it. I want to tell him he might as well tattooproperty of Danteon my lower back. But I can’t do that.
