Page 14 of Lord of Debauchery

He laughed. “Well, I will admit my grandfather tried his hand in illegal drugs, mostly supplying to the vast wasteland of those with far too much money and little common sense, but he learned the hard way that it wasn’t in the family’s best interest. My family currently owns several wine distribution facilities, a couple bouquet wineries and restaurants, and several recording studios. And my father and both brothers are pushing for expansion into the movie industry. You must admit, New Hampshire is beautiful almost any time of year.”

There was no doubt I was staring at him in disbelief. “So you aren’t involved in criminal activities?”

“Well, I can’t deny we use strong-arm tactics when necessary to get what we want, but many of our organizations have realized the benefit of going legit.”

I half laughed. “You’re mafia.”

“Very good. But we don’t necessarily like that term any longer. It reminds people of the bad boys of New York, the ones that used to enjoy shooting up properties, killing people indiscriminately. Not the best role models. You know?”

He was obviously enjoying toying with me. I took a few sips of my wine, returning to making a huge batch of pasta with marinara. At least by making food, I could get my mind off the fact he had an armed weapon in the breast pocket of his jacket. Maybe he read my mind. When I heard another noise, I tipped my head to see he was taking it off, folding and placing the jacket over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

“I’m curious, Kenya. Have you owned this establishment for long?”

I snorted and turned on the water for pasta before pouring the marinara I’d already made into a saucepan. Before turning around to face him, I flipped on the oven to warm the bread. Wouldn’t Janie be proud I was using her freshly made French baguettes for something other than a pretty table decoration?

I leaned against the counter, studying him in an entirely different way than before. He was remarkably handsome, more so than I’d given him credit for. He’d wiped the soot from his face, revealing a set of chiseled cheekbones and a strong jaw that was covered with at least two days of a fantastically sexy beard. I was taken aback by his eyes, the way they penetrated mine in the LED lighting unnerving.

He studied me just as intently, the grin sliding across his face now highlighting perfectly positioned dimples. With his thick and longer hair, he could be any designer’s perfect cover model. Even the way his soiled suit hung on his frame indicated God’s idea of perfection.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Other than the obvious of course.”

“You’re wearing a seven-thousand-dollar suit. Your watch alone cost as much as I put down on this B & B last year. You’re well spoken, which suggests you’re well educated. I would guess from your last name that you truly do come from American royalty. That’s why I’m curious why you’re in the middle of nowhere being chased by an enemy you have no idea of? I take it you lost your vehicle somewhere along the way?”

He lifted a single eyebrow, enjoying the moment more than he should be. “You would be correct. It exploded.”

“Rental car?”

“SUV.”

“That last time I checked, rental cars don’t usually spontaneously combust.”

“Rocket launcher.”

“Oh, that would make sense.” Now I rolled my eyes, uncertain how to take the man. When I attempted to move to my pantry, which was out of the room, he almost moved in front of me. “I assure you there’s no escape route underneath the kitchen and I don’t have a hidden arsenal of assault rifles as you probably guessed by my poor use of other potential weapons. I’m getting bread. I have a feeling the four of you are famished.”

His jaw was clenched, not out of anger but out of increasing desire. I’d seen the look on a man’s face, although it wasn’t usually directed at me. I wasn’t that kind of girl.

“I must admit I will enjoy having a home-cooked meal for a change.”

“Let me guess. You go out to fancy restaurants, or you have a personal chef of your own.” I moved to the pantry, taking another deep breath. The man was far too intoxicating.

“Let’s just say you wouldn’t want me to attempt to cook. My mama’s skills didn’t rub off on me. My sister is the chef in our family. Not that she’d cater to her own brother.” He laughed as if it was a bitter subject. “I occasionally have food brought in but you’ve caught me. I go out far too often.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t been a target with this enemy before.” I brought two loaves of bread with me, placing them on the counter. I turned the heat for the marinara on low before yanking out butter from the fridge, garlic from the cabinet.

“Yes, actually I am as well.”

I could tell by the strange look on his face he didn’t know what to make of the entire situation. And I certainly wasn’t sure what to say to him. “You weren’t hurt, were you? I mean in the explosion.”

He seemed touched, even being overly dramatic by placing his hand against his heart. I hadn’t noticed the gorgeous ring on the middle finger of his left hand. It was black onyx with diamonds and maybe a ruby or two in the shape of a lizard. Stunning.

Much like the man.

“No. Cuts and bruises. I honestly think if the bastards had wanted us dead, you and I wouldn’t be having such a pleasant conversation.” He grabbed his drink from the table, polishing it off in one shallow. “Excellent scotch, I must admit.”

“Only the best for my clientele, which is why I’ll likely be broke by this time next year.” I laughed, although I wasn’t certain why it felt easy to talk to him.

“From what I can tell, you’ll be a success. What were you doing before purchasing the location?”

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