Candela's p.o.v

“It’s funny… seeing the almighty Mafia boss drunk as hell,” I teased, giggling softly.

Salvatore shot me a look, his brow arching in silent challenge. His hair was slightly tousled, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off the veins running down his forearms and the hard definition of muscle beneath his shirt. God, he looked… edible.

“I’m not drunk,” he said, his deep voice dropping lower as he leaned back on the desk beside me.

I gave him a ...