Craving the Mafia Prince

Chapter Seventeen | Behind Closed Doors

"That's a nice collection you've got there." Conrad's smirk danced on his lips as we stepped into my bedroom, his gaze sweeping over the chaos that filled the space.

"Oh. My god." My voice pitched higher as embarrassment flooded me. I hadn't fully registered the state of my room until that moment. It looked like a hurricane had hit, leaving a trail of fashion disasters in its wake.

My makeup brushes were scattered across the bed, remnants of my frantic preparation. A mountain of party gowns lay haphazardly over the pillows—evidence of my indecisiveness as I tried on every dress in my closet. And then there were my underwear. Oh, the underwear. Lace and frills mingled with the dreaded granny panties, all strewn about like confetti celebrating my inability to pick just one. I could practically feel the heat radiating from my cheeks as I caught sight of the lace pairs in particular, a glaring reminder of my current state of undress and disorder.

I squirmed in Conrad's arms, desperate to break free and at least attempt to salvage some dignity by clearing the mess, as if that would somehow ease the embarrassment. But his grip tightened, pulling me closer against him. I could hear the amusement in his breath, each chuckle a reminder of my shame.

"Let me go!" I protested, my voice muffled as I buried my face in my hands, the reality of my messy room crashing over me like a wave. The suffocating feeling of humiliation washed over me, and I wondered how I would ever face him again.

"Why? You're so cute when you're flustered." His voice was teasing, and I could almost sense the twinkle in his eye, which only added to my mortification.

With a gentle motion, he set me down on the bed, the soft surface a stark contrast to my inner turmoil. I peeked through my fingers, half-expecting to see him laughing at my plight. Instead, he looked at me with a mix of amusement and humor.

"Seriously, though, I'm not usually this messy," I stammered, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "It's because you were rushing me and I had to run downstairs to the car."

Conrad raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of disbelief and delight. "Is that supposed to make me feel better about the mess? Because it really isn't working."

"Shut up!" I threw a pillow at him, trying to deflect my embarrassment with humor. He caught it easily, a playful grin spreading across his face.

"Okay, okay," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "But you really do have a nice collection. It's... unique."

"Unique? More like a disaster zone." I glanced around, half-heartedly trying to assess the damage.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, still watching me with that infuriatingly charming smile.

"Ugh! Can we stop talking about my underwear now?" I fell back onto the bed with a soft thud, my cheeks flushed from embarrassment. I could feel a pair or two underneath me as I did. The dim light in the room cast a warm glow on the walls, but the heat radiating from the conversation was undeniable.