Captive of My Mafia Crush
“And what about your –“ he stops himself suddenly, glancing down at his coffee and taking a quick sip before starting again. “Do you have a boyfriend, who is going to notice?”
Slowly, I shake my head. “Not anymore.”
Christian narrows his eyes at me. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that he already knows that I’m gone, Christian,” I say quietly. “And that he’s not my boyfriend anymore.” I blush, already embarrassed, already dreading telling him what an idiot I am for loving a man who sold me to the mafia.
“And this boyfriend,” Christian says, his voice derisive as he leans closer to me, studying my face. “Did he know you worked as a stripper? Did he let you?”