The Bossman Read Online Free PDF

eat in the morning. You making coffee, though?”
    She rolled her eyes, but grinned. “Sure. Coming right up.”
    “It doesn’t count for our date!” he called after her.
    Five minutes later, she stood wrapped in a short pink robe with the espresso machine spitting out two shots. Joey sauntered in, looking every bit as handsome as he had the night before. Her body responded to the sight of his large frame, the implicitly masculine way he carried himself. He wore a button down shirt and slacks. She could tell by the fabric and cut they were designer brands and she hadn’t missed the Rolex watch or the Ray-Ban sunglasses. It irritated her, as they were symbols of mafia, but, like everything else about him, it also turned her on.
    He wandered into the living room and investigated her DVD collection. “You’re a fan of musicals?”
    “Shut up,” she said, expecting ridicule.
    He shook his head and made a tsking sound. “Disrespectful.” He was teasing, but the rebuke sent a shiver up her spine just the same, knowing he was truly a dangerous man who had probably imparted violence to many who disrespected him.
    He came back into the kitchen. “I like musicals,” he said.
    She raised an eyebrow. “You. Like musicals,” she said, her voice dripping with disbelief.
    He shrugged. “Yeah. Why not? I’ll tell you what, how about I take you to see a Broadway show for our second date. How about Wicked ? Have you seen it?”
    Her entire body temperature rose by two degrees at the unexpected pleasure. She couldn’t afford $75 tickets to see the musical, but she’d been dying to go. The idea that Joey La Torre  deduced she’d be interested and was willing to take her was a shocker.
    “I’d love to,” she said, trying not to look excited. She must have failed because Joey gave her a knowing grin. “Cream and sugar?” she asked to distract him.
    “Please.”
    She stirred his coffee for him and handed it over, watching as he drained it all at once. He handed her the cup and pulled the bag of garbage out of her trash container, as if he lived there and it was his duty.
    “So I’ll get tickets--when is our next date?” he asked, leaning forward to give her a kiss. “I don’t want to come on too strong.”
    She made a snorting noise.
    “Too late?” When she gave him a “yeah, dummy” look, he said, “In that case, I’ll pick you up at six?”
    “Tonight?” she asked with incredulity.
    He winked. “Yeah, tonight. I’ll call for tickets. I can’t get enough of you, little girl.”
    She gave a surprised laugh. “You are so full of shit, La Torre.”
    “It’s not shit, it’s the God’s honest truth. I’ve had it for you since the moment I saw you. I’d marry you today, if you’d have me.”
    She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “You’re nuts.”
    “Maybe. But I don’t think so. I’m not afraid to go after a good thing when I see it.” He gave her another kiss, which she did not return. “See you at six.”
    “It’s our last date, not our next date,” she called after him.
    “We’ll see,” came his rumbling reply, just before the door banged shut.
    Joey pulled in at Boom Booms, the strip club he and Sammy ran, where his main job was laundering Al’s money.
    Al’s Lamborghini was already there, parked in Joey’s “Reserved for Owner” spot. Not that it mattered at one in the afternoon. He pulled beside him and walked in, bellying up to the bar and ordering a Glenlivet. Sammy stood behind the bar, his arms folded across his chest, surveying the smattering of customers and the dancer on the stage. He barely acknowledged Joey. It was odd he wasn’t entertaining Al.
    He caught Sammy’s eye. “Is Al in the office?”
    Sammy didn’t bother coming over or answering, but lifted his chin in the direction of the back of the club. Craning his neck, Joey saw Al sitting in a booth, a half-naked dancer gyrating on his lap. He picked up his drink and headed over, giving Sammy another nod as he