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

by Natasha L. Black

Mia keeps talking—something about living more, overthinking less, and maybe letting go of my chronic need for control. She’s probably right, but I’m not listening. Something outside the café catches my attention. I don’t know why I notice them at first. New York City is full of people, full of men like them. Spotting a group of well-dressed men who look like they belong in a Sylvester Stallone movie isn’t uncommon. Still, this group stands out. It’s the way they hold themselves—the controlled, effortless power as they linger on the sidewalk, completely unfazed by the city’s chaos swirling around them. It’s the way they’re dressed in perfectly tailored suits, dark and expensive. They exude a kind of power and old money that seems out of place outside of a period piece. A few of them are smoking cigars, their movements slow, unbothered. “Nicole?” Mia snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Helloooo? Where’d you just go?” “I…” I shake my head, trying to brush off the sudden unease creeping over me. “Sorry, I just…” My voice dies in my throat. When I glance back at the group, I swear I see Sergei. The man definitely has the same sharp jaw, the same ice-blue eyes. He looks younger, though. Not by much, but enough to make me second-guess myself. His stance, too, is calculated, powerful, unreadable. My stomach tightens when he looks straight at me through the glass. And it’s not just a glance. It’s direct and unwavering, even from across the street and through a crowd of pedestri...