His Mafia Queen

A Twist

RILEY

I'm afraid of big dogs, and the sound of barking always makes my hair stand up on the back of my arms and neck. It's probably because my father raised aggressive rottweilers and sold them to gangsters when I was growing up, and the fear that he'd feed me to the dogs when I was little stayed with me forever.

But the dog I see sprinting toward us isn't big, or mean. It looks like a teddy bear on four legs, with rounded ears, a tiny snout, and big button eyes the color of espresso. "Oh my goodness," I cry out in delight, as the light brown fluff ball rounds the sofa then hurls itself toward Gabriel, its tongue lolling to one side.

"Down, Reese, down," he says sternly, but the dog ignores him, licking his face and wagging its tail furiously. Gabriel rubs the dog's small body with his big hands, and I'm momentarily, irrationally jealous of the dog.

"Awww, what a little cutie. Normally I'm wary of dogs but this one..." the dog whips around and launches itself into my arms. "Is too cute. What is your name?"

The dog licks my face, then holds still long enough for me to read the tag on its collar. It's a little difficult because the sun has set and the only light is coming from a lamp near the bar.

"Reeses McPupcup," I say slowly aloud.

This sends me into peals of laughter, thinking about this hard, powerful, sexy mafia man living with a dog named Reeses McPupcup. If I did a story about Gabriel, this detail would surely make it high up in the article. Possibly in the first sentence.

He's known as Tampa's richest man, with ties to both the governor's office and organized crime. But Gabriel Greco is something else: dog dad to Reeses McPupcup, a ten-pound Pomeranian that bears a strong resemblance to a teddy bear.

Unable to contain my goofiness, I crack up at the thought of writing that in an article. I sneak a peek at Gabriel. He's changed out of that dark suit he was wearing when I first saw him—when he kidnapped me—and is now in stone-colored jeans and a white button-down shirt.

He clears his throat. "I call him Reese."

"Of course you do." I snort as I nuzzle my nose into the dog's lavender-scented fur. My apprehension about Gabriel is waning by the moment, although I can't discount the possibility that he planned to unleash the adorable Mr. McPupcup simply to gain more of my trust and confidence.

A door slams and the clatter of footsteps nears. Reese is on top of me now, trying to French kiss me. "No, I don't kiss on the first date," I tell the dog.

"Is that right?" Gabriel hums, and I ignore him—and the desire coiling inside me—because my attention is on two women with frantic expressions. They're running toward us, calling Reese's name and saying things like "bad dog."

"There are no bad dogs," I say to Reese, who snortles in my face, spraying me with his adorable snot and making me laugh. "Thanks, dude."

"Mr. Greco, we are so sorry," one of the women cries. "We were feeding Reese when he escaped. You know how he sniffs you out."

The second woman reaches over the back of the sofa and plucks the dog off my lap. "Our apologies, miss. We didn't mean to interrupt your date."

Date? What has Gabriel told his staff? Well, I guess he couldn't tell them the truth. "No need to apologize. Reese is a good boy."

I glance at Gabriel, curious to see how he'll handle this. Lorna used to say that you can learn a lot about a person by the way they treat people in the service industry. For the record, the guy who killed her was an asshole to waiters and service people—I saw that with my own eyes.