Unprotected with the Mob Boss: A Dark Mafia Romance (Alekseiev Bratva), Fox, Nicole [spiritual books to read TXT] 📗

untangling one of her dangly earrings from her curly butterscotch hair. She’s wearing a spectacular silver dress that shimmers like water every time she moves. I’m in a white T-shirt and men’s sweatpants that are almost too thick to move at all. “This is, like, the one night that Jonathan is working there and I’m not on duty.”

I glance around our apartment, wishing it was bigger, so I’d have a place to hide. “Why don’t you take Katie?”

“Because Katie has double Ds that men treat like a once-in-a-lifetime meteor shower. The only difference is that they’re staring down instead of up.”

I glance down at my own boobs. At best, they’re shooting stars.

“Your boobs are fine. I love you, Ally, but I know you’re just going to sit at the bar, pretend to drink, and not interfere while I convince Jonathan that a bird in his hand is better than two in the bush. And by birds, I mean boobs.”

“Why would you let him only touch one of your boobs?”

She puts her hands on her hips. “See, this is what happens when you spend too much time in a courtroom. Your sarcasm scale is off the charts. You need to get out.”

“Why do people keep telling me that?” I pick a piece of lint off my shirt. “I’m not a dog you need to take for a walk. We have alcohol here. I have my laptop. Pizza delivery is wildly efficient these days. I’m good.”

“Putting a leash on you might help.” Julia checks the clock. “You have ten minutes to prove that you’re the best roommate in the world. Otherwise, Jonathan will see me and think I’m a sad, pathetic loser, who could only pine for him instead of hanging out with my friends. I’ll never be able to step into Black Glacier again.”

I stop picking at my shirt. I sit up. “Black Glacier?”

“Yeah.” She bounces on the balls of her feet. “It’s a bit expensive, but that just means the male selection is top shelf. You’ve heard of it?”

Yes. At the trial. Jeffrey Douglas mentioned it.

“I think so,” I say, concentrating on my shirt again, hoping she won’t see my mind racing.

“Someone must have mentioned it to you at the DA’s office. They’re all well-off, aren’t they? They probably go there every night and drink their fancy champagne.”

Most women fantasize about male models or billionaires or the perfect destination wedding.

My perfect romance is sitting next to Jeffrey Douglas, lulling him into the belief that he’s about to get laid, and when he’s about to grab his keys, promising to show me his apartment with a view, I whisper to him that this whole thing was a sting and he’s going to prison for a long, long time.

That’s not how the law works, but we all have our own dreams.

“If I go with you, will you stop complaining about the DA?” I ask Julia.

She grins. “If everything goes right tonight, I might marry the DA.”

“Fine. But I don’t think she’s into women.”

She whoops, giving me a quick hug.

Outside, I can hear police sirens in the distance. It’s not unusual around here—last week, I couldn’t get into our apartment building because the guy on the floor above us was threatening the police through his door.

But this time, I take it as a good sign. It means justice is coming.

* * *

“I can’t believe you,” Julia mutters as we sit down at the bar.

Black Glacier is more sophisticated than I imagined after picturing Jeffrey Douglas in it. The lightbulbs are all various shades of blue-green. The bar and tables appear to be made of sea glass and there seems to be some kind of mechanism in the floor, so whenever somebody steps on it, a tiny aurora borealis effect is triggered. It’s beautiful and ingenious, but it seems like a liability when people are drunk.

It’s a personal injury lawyer’s dream.

“You can’t believe me?” I ask.

She gestures to my clothes. “This.”

“I haven’t changed.”

“Exactly,” she says.

“You didn’t want to bring Katie because she’d distract Jonathan. I won’t distract anyone, which should make you happy. It makes me happy.”

She shakes her head at me. “You could meet Prince Charming tonight and yet you look like you took the worst clothes from a frat boy’s closet.”

I chuckle. “Prince Charming proposed to Cinderella when she was wearing rags,” I point out.

She sighs. Then, abruptly, her eyes light up.

“Hey, Jon.” She waves at the bartender. “Could I get a lemon drop?”

She turns to me. I smile at Jonathan. He’s cute enough, but the sheer amount of product in his hair screams “high-maintenance,” too much for me, at least.

“You got it. What about your friend?”

“Could I just get a rum and Coke?” I ask.

After he leaves, Julia turns to me. “What do you think?”

It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to say something snarky about the number of buttons on his shirt he seems to have forgotten. But Julia clearly likes him, so I decide not to be an ass for a change.

“He’s cute—” I start to say.

But then I stop.

Because I’ve spotted someone. The very someone I was desperately hoping I’d see here. Not a gelled-up bartender or a second-year banker trying to blow his bonus check to impress some girls in the next booth over.

It’s him. Jeffrey Douglas.

He’s here.

I can’t believe the worthless asshole is here right after his trial. If he had any semblance of a soul, he’d spend at least a night mourning Jenny Dressler.

But no, looks like it’s back to business as usual.

“We should dance,” I say suddenly, grabbing Julia’s hand. Jonathan drops our drinks off before leaving to serve some other patrons. Julia’s eyes follow him like a puppy whose owner is leaving for work. I follow her gaze and curse silently. “He’ll notice,” I reassure her. “It’s a good chance to show him that you’re up for a good time.”

She picks up her glass and smiles. “I knew you’d get into a good mood as soon as you were