Page 53 of Knocked Up by My Dad's Mafia Boss

Dante’s sedan pulls up and he lets down the window, glaring at me, his eyes sharp.

“Get in. Now.” His voice is low and commanding, and usually would turn me on, but it just makes me angrier.

I huff and Reese and I climb into the backseat. Dante’s jaw tightens as he looks in the rearview mirror.

Reese is completely silent. He’s terrified of Dante, and I can’t blame him. I don’t say a word as Dante backs out.

I’m done with his shit, at least for tonight.

14

DANTE

I was pissed off when Ricardo canceled on me. He’s always been unreliable, but with Ricci’s target on Samantha, he really needs to get his shit together.

And of course she’s with Reese. Alone, this time, not with Sofia like they usually are in their fucked up little trio. Anger rushes through me as I glance in the rearview mirror. Samantha’s leaning her head against his shoulder.

He’s stiff as he meets my eyes in the rearview. Looks scared.

Good.

He should be. Because if he touches her I can’t be held responsible for my actions.

“I need to find someone to have sex with.”

I swerve the car, nearly veering off the road. Samantha’s words are too loud, slightly slurred, but determined. Reese makes a squeaking sound in the back of his throat.

“I’m serious,” Samantha continues as I right the car with a curse.

I keep my mouth shut, gritting my teeth so hard it feels like my jaw will crack.

“Who was that guy at your party, Reese? Ethan? Maybe you could set me up with him.”

Reese clears his throat. “Sammy…”

My eyes shoot to his in the rearview mirror and he freezes. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he rasps, and Samantha pouts, sitting up straight.

“It’s been too long since I’ve had a real boyfriend.”

A real boyfriend. Great.

“Maybe I could call up my ex from high school. Remember him, Reese? He washot,” she goes on, and I know she’s just trying to get a rise out of me but…

It’s fucking working.

My heart pounds too hard against my chest. I’m speeding and don’t realize it, finally letting my foot off the gas so that the gauge goes below eighty.

“Um,” Reese manages.

“Derek. That was his name. Papa even liked him, remember?”

Reese nods, still looking at me in the rearview like a deer in headlights.

Who the fuck is Derek?

I want to ask for his whole name. Hunt him down. Kill him. At least maim him.

I grit my teeth harder and take the turn toward Reese’s apartment. God knows I’ve dropped his drunk ass off often enough.