Keeping my Mafia Husband
“You have all night to ask me anything about me. I’ll answer what I can.”
I swallow. “Because you have secrets?”
“Every billionaire”, he lifts a shoulder, “as you say, has secrets, no?” He keeps working through his food like it doesn’t matter. “They’re business secrets, not women. I don’t play around.”
I choke a little on my wine. “I don’t believe that,” I say. “No way.”
That earns a soft chuckle that tickles something in my chest.