Page 40 of A Very Happy Halloween

“I guess either we fly over on a weekend when Steven has the boys, or we go during the school holidays and they can come with us. Not Steven, obviously, just Harry and Alfie. Although there’s a nice lake on the edge of the property. Can Steven swim?”

“I meant us. You and me. You own a vineyard, and I root through the bargain bins at Tesco.”

“I’ve rooted through the bargain bins at Tesco.”

“Have you?”

“Yeah, I accidentally dropped my Rolex in one of them when I went in to buy smoked salmon and champagne.”

“Is that a joke? I can’t even tell.”

“Yes, it’s a fucking joke. I order my groceries online from Sainsbury’s. It’s my dad who roots through the bargain bins, and he brings home all those little sugar and sauce packets from restaurants too. In my parents’ kitchen, there’s a whole cupboard full of them, and it drives Mum mad. I don’t think they’ve ever bought a bottle of ketchup.”

“Is that a joke?”

“No. Janie, if I’d known a good dinner would upset you, I would’ve ordered a pizza.”

“I’m not upset. Just…just intimidated.”

“Fuck. You want me to send the staff away?”

I shook my head, and he took both of my hands in his.

“Janie, I only want you to have nice things. I hate that you’ve been living in a cold, leaky house. Worse, I hate that you’ve been living in a cold, leaky house while I was two miles away in this place and I didn’t even know. We lost thirteen years. Thirteen fucking years. I want to spoil you rotten.”

Eisen Renner. All the papers called him the ultimate bad boy, but they never mentioned this sweet side. I could so easily lose myself to this man. Just sit back and let him help with the load I’d been carrying for so long. But what was the catch? There had to be a catch. I already knew he was spectacular in bed, so that wasn’t the problem. What, then? It was a question I truly didn’t want the answer to.

Keep kicking that can…

I conjured up a smile. “Maybe next time we could order pizza?”

“I’ll even let you choose the toppings.”

The menu was an A to Z of aphrodisiacs. Oysters and perfectly ripe avocado to start, followed by lamb with asparagus spears, baby carrots, and duchess potatoes, and finally honey-glazed figs with chocolate mousse.

And while somebody else cleared away the dishes, Eis carried me up to his bedroom in the east wing—because of course his house had bloody wings—and feasted on my body. He didn’t care about all those little imperfections I spent so long worrying over. He made me feel beautiful.

I even forgot my inhibitions when I rode his cock like a cowgirl, when I sucked it like a lollipop and swallowed every last drop of his pleasure. We were a sweaty mess by the time we collapsed among a pile of pillows and a scattering of rose petals.

And I slept better than I had in years.

Seventeen

In the morning, I woke up before Eis, and in sleep, his eyepatch had shifted. I felt weirdly guilty as I studied the contours of his beautiful face. His bad eye… It was just closed. There was some scarring, faint streaks where the acid must have eaten into his skin, but in the pale sunlight, he looked perfect.

His other eye opened.

Shit.

Busted.

“Uh, good morning?”

“It’s okay; you can look if you want to.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not so much now. My eyelid is sewn shut. I wear the patch because it invites fewer questions than having an eye that doesn’t open.”

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