Arrogant Prick: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance by Tessa Thorne Page A

She’s not that nervous girl I met a few nights ago. “Do you really want to know? You might not like what you hear.”
    She puts her arm over mine and reaches down to squeeze my hand. “Maybe not, but I’ve done things with you I’d never have done otherwise. So try me.”
    “I’ve spent two years in Afghanistan killing terrorists, and another eight years at home killing domestic ones.” I watch her eyes gauging her reaction, but this doesn’t seem to faze her. “When I scout my targets, they always look around them for an ambush, but only the most paranoid ever think to look up.”
    “Is that why you came to Hush the first time?” I can feel her heart speeding up. “Were you following a terrorist here?”
    I kiss her on the neck. “No.”
    “Will you tell me who you were looking for?” Her finger traces the tattooed thorns on the roses trailing down my arm, making my hair stand on their ends. I change the subject.
    “Tell me who your keeper is.” I raise my hand from around her waist, my arm brushing against the tips of her breasts, and she gasps as I lightly wrap my fingers around her porcelain neck. “Who’s the man who’s got you collared?”
    She looks down, biting her lip. “It’s not like that.”
    “Then tell me what it is like.”
    “It’s my father.” Her voice is low and she drops her eyes from mine, staring out the window. “He still only thinks of me as his little princess.”
    That explains it. He must be one of Pavoni’s captains. I’ll find out who it is when my contact at the FBI comes through with their file on the Pavonis.
    “Is he cruel to you?” I ask, and my voice comes out harder than I intended. She glances at me in surprise before replying.
    “No.” Her voice is firm. “He’s a good man, and I know he wants the best for me. He just has an old country way of looking at things.”
    I brush my hand through her thick hair. “My dad was like that, too.” I want to hold back, but I can’t. I’ve already told her what I do. That's something I’ve never told anyone. Not even my family knew. It feels good to talk to someone about this. “He always wanted me to follow in his footsteps.”
    “What did he do?”
    “He owned a store selling sporting equipment and uniforms down in Bushwick.” He didn’t truly own it though. He borrowed money from the Pavonis and they used him to launder their money, even after he paid the loan off. That’s how the mob works. Once you’re in, you’re in for life. Whether you're an associate, a made man, or just a guy with no credit, looking to provide a better life for his family.
    “Do you still talk to him?” She really wants to know about me. The women I’ve had in my life have never bothered looking past my body, clothes, or money. Not that I ever gave anyone a chance, but still. She's so genuine, so real. I'm not used to that.
    “He’s dead.” I spit out the words before I can stop myself. He’s dead. My family’s all dead, and I wasn’t here to protect them when they needed me.
    She gasps, turns around in my arms and looks at me. I shouldn’t have told her the truth. I don’t want her to pity me.
    “I’m so sorry.” She’s looking at me like I’m a wounded bird she found in the streets. “I can’t imagine what it must feel like to go through that.”
    “You aren’t the one to blame.” But I know who is, and I’ll make him pay. It’s the only purpose I have left in my life. At least I used to think that, before I met her.
    Feeling conflicted, I stand up and start putting my clothes back on. I can’t let her distract me from my mission.
    “I have to go,” I say abruptly.
    “Please don’t go yet.” She looks up at me. “I’m sorry for bringing up your father.”
    I look away, afraid of what she might see in my face if I turn to her. She reminded me of my purpose. Nothing can stand in the way of that. Not even her.
    She stands up and walks up behind me, and puts her hands around my shoulders. “Will