Page 172 of Forced Vows

It's way too easy to look at him adoringly while the photographer gets the necessary traditional poses. And when he insists our cat be included because we aren't having kids for a while, that adoration turns a little too real.

"You two ready to have some fun?" she asks.

I shrug, but Miceli says, "Sure."

Who is this man and where is my taciturn and grumpy underboss fiancé?

"I love the 1950s look." She grins at me. "Coupled with Miceli's dark suit, you two look like a couple right out of the 20th century."

I'm not sure what to say to that. "Um, thank you?"

"Pick her up, like you're going to carry her over the threshold."

Miceli doesn't wait to be told twice. He bends and puts one arm under my knees and the other behind my back before lifting.

The photographer puts her camera up to her eye and starts taking pictures. "Okay, now twirl her around. Make those crinolines fly."

He adjust his hold slightly and then starts spinning. And my skirts do fly.

"How are you feeling?" he asks in a whisper, as he spins me around and smiles down at me adoringly.

There should be a warning sign on this man. Because my heart? Is finding it way too easy to believe what it sees. Even if our brain knows he's putting all of this on for the sake of the mafia.

"I'm fine." What else can I say?

The truth? That I missed him like crazy the last four days and being in his arms feels like coming home?

"How's your ass?"

I gasp and stare at him wide-eyed.

"Yes, just like that! You look like he just proposed to you," the photographer crows.

I guess that's better than her knowing he just asked if my butthole is still sore. Or close enough.

"It's fine," I hiss. "I'm fine," I repeat, a whole different meaning in those two words right now.

"That's good to hear," he purrs.

Jayzuz, Mary and Joseph, my ovaries just fainted. "If you were that worried about me, you could've called earlier this week."

"I have been in meetings from 6 AM until midnight every day."

That schedule is bonkers. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

Looking closer than I have since finding him waiting with the helicopter because looking at him makes me want things. Not just sex things either.

Emotions he'll never give me.

Anyway, I see the lines of strain and exhaustion on his face now and my chest aches.

"Is it always like this?" I mean, am I going to be married to a ghost? "Do you work like this all the time?"

"You know there are no set hours for men in my position. But right now, things are particularly volatile and it's my job to either burn down my enemies or throw water on the fires that are burning." "

Like a superhero not averse to killing his enemies. My vajayjay swoons. "I'm sorry. You look tired."

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