The Mafia Saved Me [SAMPLE BOOK]

Chapter 21 [SAMPLE]

POV Victoria

Loud music blasts throughout the kitchen and Spanish words come from Sofia's mouth as she sings while cutting meat for today's dinner.

I find myself humming the cumbia song while shredding some mozzarella cheese.

Luca kept asking if we could cook some more Mexican food, and because Sofia and I are thankful for all they have done for us, regardless of how secretive they are, we gave in to Luca's persistence. After all, they saved our lives and treated us like visitors, not prisoners. But this doesn't mean I'm not angry about the lies I know are being thrown at me.

Leo keeps lying to me and tiptoeing around my questions. It's aggravating, but at the same time I want to kiss him for how he speaks to me as if he wants me. It's hard to stay angry at him when my nerves coil whenever he holds me close.

To forget about these mixed feelings, I turned to making the traditional Mexican Sopes dish with Sofia and Luca, who tried to help us cook. However, we quickly realized he was only making a mess and decided it was best if he stayed as far away as possible.

The music is so loud we don't hear when Leo and Francisco enter the kitchen. I only know they are here when Francisco scares Sofia, who responds by throwing a piece of raw meat at his face. It lands on his lips, and he grimaces.

I don't turn to face Leo, whose sharp stare I feel burning into my back. With him close, the tingly sensations inside me stir and I try to push them down, but it's no use. The attraction is there and strong, even if I feel uneasy about him. I have somehow formed an attachment toward my savior.

Sofia tilts her head quizzically when she notices my distant behavior toward him.

I haven't told her what happened last night. Not about the gun, my suspicion of him, or how we almost kissed. I'm hesitant to tell her because the last time I told her about my intuition, she waved it off as nothing and we got kidnapped. She wouldn't understand if I told her.

Heat gathers at the base of my neck when I remember how close Leo's lips were to mine. When the temptation of the memory becomes too good, I close my eyes and squish the butterflies.

I place the full dinner plates on the counter, and Leo and I lock eyes when I turn. My heart picks up speed, and I hand him a plate with shaky hands while trying to contain the fluttering in my stomach.

Disapproval reveals itself on his face when he sees us cooking.

"I thought I told you two not to make food. That's why I pay for a cook to come."

"Too bad," I retort, forcing the plate into his hands. "We like to cook." As I say this, I avoid his eyes and continue handing out the plates of food to the other men, who have quickly piled into the kitchen after they smelled the handmade tortillas.

Leo releases an exasperated breath and says nothing else. But he does shock me when he bends down and presses a chaste kiss on my temple.

I become tense as his lips rest over the area, and I'm left feeling cold when he removes his touch. My eyes follow his retreating figure as he approaches the dining room.