“You need to be getting home,” I whisper between kisses, my thumbs lightly circling your waist through the fabric of your clothing. “Wouldn’t want to keep you past curfew,” I add playfully, chuckling when you slap my chest.

I’m only joking, but in all honestly, it is a little bit surprising that your father hasn’t caught onto this yet. I mean, there’s only so many times you can tell him you’re going to hang out with friends, then don’t get home until midnight and have a lingering scent of an expensive masculine cologne.

Of course, I’m not complaining. Pure chaos would ensue if your father knew that his daughter is dating the head of his rivaling mafia organization.

I’m not even sure how this started. How the hell did I end up secretly dating you? The daughter of my rival? Must’ve been that party where we crossed paths, got drunk, exchanged numbers, then didn’t realize until the third date.

Hm.

“Alright, alright,” I laugh, pulling back from your kissing to speak properly. “You have to go soon, sweetheart. I don’t really want to start a war tonight,”