Page 29 of Knocked Up by My Dad's Mafia Boss

Who I am.

“Stay with me until I fall back asleep?”

“Samantha…”

“I’m serious.” She thins her lips in a hard line. “I get these… nightmares. Ever since the shooting.”

I soften, folding like a fucking lawn chair. “Alright. I”ll stay.”

She happily crawls onto the bed, flashing her lace white panties at me. My jaw tightens.

I sit down on the edge of the bed and she puts her arms around my waist, pressing her face to my back.

“Hold me? Just for a while?”

I shift into the bed, leaning up against the headboard. She puts her head on my chest, one arm around my waist. “Get some rest.”

She yawns. “I don’t know why I’m so tired.”

“Plotting to make me crazy every day has to be tiring.”

She snickers at that, her breath getting quieter. Slower. She’s asleep within a few minutes. I watch her eyelashes fan across her cheekbones, her mouth parted.

I’m royally fucked, aren’t I?

9

SAMANTHA

“Swim with me.”

“No.”

I pout. “Dante, come on. You did it before.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t like it then.”

I smirk. “You seemed to like it when I kissed you.”

He freezes, one hand on the blender. I’ve talked him into making us margaritas. “That can’t happen again.”

I huff out a breath, kicking off the side of the pool and starting to swim laps. He won’t even look at me, and I picked out this bikini just for him. The strings ride up my hipbones, the seat of the bikini barely covering my ass. The top is a tank with a plunging neckline, and it’s all in my favorite color, red.

I swim for a while until the margaritas are done and then heave myself out of the pool, slicking my hair back from my face. Dante meets my eyes for a brief moment. His eyes are so fucking blue in the sunlight they don’t look real.

I tilt my head. “You don’t wear contacts, do you?”

“Why does everyone always ask me that?” he grunts, sounding irritated. He’s been in a mood the last week or so. I haven’t exactly been avoiding him, so maybe I’m just annoying him.

We watch that reality tv competition show at night, and usually I fall asleep on the couch. He always carries me to bed but… he doesn’t stay with me. Not since that first night. Which makes me sad. He’s just good to cuddle with, big and firm in all the right places, arms tight around me.

It doesn’t mean anything.

“Because you have scary blue eyes.”

He snorts. “Scary?”

“Yeah. They’re like, unreal. Did you get them from your mom or your dad?”