Wrong Number. Right Don. (Sinful Mafia Daddies, #3)

by Natasha L. Black

What exactly did you win? I won the chance to prove to you that not all men are spineless idiots. I can’t deny the man has game. I have a decision now. I could keep up the flirtation with some random, faceless stranger, or block this number, go home, and drown my sorrows in a bottle of wine. I shift in the back seat and feel a surge of boldness I haven’t tasted in ages. Flirty texting it is. Bold assumption. Maybe I was only looking for a one-night stand. So you want a spineless asshole sleeping in your bed tonight? My stomach tightens as embarrassment washes over me. Who is this stranger to question what kind of man I take home? I’m tempted again to just block his number and call it a night, but I can’t help but fire back. Who’s to say I would want a guy like you sleeping in my bed? If I were in your bed, there wouldn’t be much sleeping happening. And I happen to have a very sturdy spine. I bite my lip, grinning at the screen. Who is this guy? When the cab stops, the driver barely glances up as I pay and slip out. Phone in hand, I walk toward my apartment. A smooth talker, eh? That only works on me if you look good doing it. A photo comes through, and even though it shows only half his face and the broad planes of his chest, it does wicked things to me. Does that work for you? My breath catches. Holy hell. Cocky and hot? My night just took a sharp turn for the better. Yet a cautious voice whispers that I shouldn’t be doing this. I don’t even know this man. But he’s leaps ...