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

by Natasha L. Black

Hey, asshole. Did you seriously just leave while I was in the bathroom? I stand on the side of the road, arms crossed over my chest, glaring at my phone like it personally betrayed me. The chilly night air bites at my exposed skin, as my little black dress offers zero protection against the elements. But I’m too pissed to care. I can’t believe this actually happened to me. My date freaking bailed in the middle of dinner. I don’t expect an immediate reply. Honestly, I don’t expect a reply at all. So when my phone vibrates in my hand a second later, my heart gives a stupid little lurch. Maybe there’s a logical explanation. Maybe his mom called with an emergency. I’m a nurse, so I could understand that. I’m not remotely prepared for the lame-ass excuse that pops up. Who’s this? I blink at the screen. What the actual hell? First he bails, now he’s playing dumb? I’m poised to unleash several choice words when a horrific thought hits me. I double-check the number I saved from the dating app, and a chill washes over me. Shit. I transposed two numbers. Uh, I think I have the wrong number. Ignore me. I move to lock my phone and hail a taxi, but another message comes through. Too late. I’m intrigued. A shiver runs down my spine, and this time, it has nothing to do with the cold. I chew my lip, considering. I have no idea who this person is, whether they’re even a man or a woman. But I’m still wired from the adrenaline rush of being abandoned mid-date, and a little conversation won’t...