Throwing the towel onto the vanity, I grip both edges of the sink with my hands.
I don’t like what I see staring back at me.
I know that I’m attractive, but it’s my eyes that scare me.
My gaze is sharper after all these years.
The innocence has been scraped away, layer by layer, year by year.
Now it’s replaced by coldness and a lack of emotion.
Time as the mafia queen has hardened me and I don’t know if I’ll ever find peace.
I miss the person I used to be before I became queen.
I think sometimes I’m jealous of Gigi.
She doesn’t have the pressures that I do.
But no matter what, I must remain queen.
I don’t wish this burden or responsibility on anyone I love.
I must carry this crown.
Grumbling, I throw the towel into the laundry basket and head downstairs.
The scent of toast hits me as I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen.
Pausing in the doorway, I see Dominic shirtless in front of the stove while French toast sizzles in the pan. His back is taut,muscles shifting beneath olive skin. He looks so handsome, and it makes my heart skip a beat.
The radio hums low and I feel like we’re playing house.
“I forgot how much I like watching you cook,” I announce as I sit down at the table in the breakfast nook.
“Really? I didn’t know you liked watching,” he replies without turning.
“It all depends on the view.”
He glances over his shoulder. A smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Are you flirting with me, Queen Capuano?”
“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.” I grab the coffee pot and pour the brown liquid into my cup.
Dominic chuckles and places a plate in front of me. “I made your favorite, French toast.”
“Thank you.” I look down at the stack.
The thick slices of bread are golden brown and crisp at the edges. A dusting of powdered sugar clings to the top like the first kiss of snow, while warm maple syrup trickles down the side like slow amber rivers.
Picking up the fork, I cut through the center filled with cinnamon and vanilla. Each bite melts on my tongue.
I should be happy. A hot shirtless man making me breakfast, what more could a girl ask for?
However, the thought of my sister possibly fucking the twerp who tried to kill me makes me bitter.
“He’s still over there with her,” I mutter between bites.
Dominic sits down next to me with a huge pile of French toast in front of him. “Who?”
