Page 31 of The Marriage Auction 2: Part 4

“I love you too, Mr. Larsen.”

I kissed the side of her temple and then the top of TJ’s head. “Come on, I need to get my family somewhere warm so we can celebrate.”

“Lead the way,” Summer encouraged and rested her cheek to my shoulder.

I held my family close as we followed our loved ones back home.

Episode 96

Whatever Will Be, Will Be

MADAM ALANA

“Diego? What are you doing here?” Christophe asked, clearly as shocked as I was to see the mafia boss in what was supposed to be our safe house.

“What?” He held out his hands and grinned like a maniac. “And let you have all the fun?”

I opened my mouth and then closed it, doing my best to compose myself.

“Fun? You think we’re having fun? My wife and niece were kidnapped. Four of our guards killed in cold blood, for no other reason than they were assigned to protect us. Our home was shot at by, not one, but multiple snipers. We just spent the day in and out of the back of vehicles, our vision impaired and our bodies battered and bruised as we were tossed around like a box of rocks to an unknown location. And you think we’re having fun? Are you insane?” Christophe roared, finally letting his rage explode.

Diego smiled manically. “Sounds like a regular day for me,amigo.”

“Jesus Christ…” Christophe blurted, his hands sliding into his messy hair as he closed his eyes and let out a deep groan.

“Are you not safe now?” Diego said nonchalantly as he walked over to the stove where his mother was cooking. He boldly stuck a finger into whatever sauce she had bubbling.Lightning fast, she struck his hand with a wooden spoon. He snatched his hand away and put the finger into his mouth, humming.

“¡Ayeee, Mamá!Just a little taste…”

“No!” she snapped and pointed at the table, then spoke something in fiery Spanish.

Diego nodded and held up his hands in supplication. He proceeded to the opposite side of the room, where he pulled out a stack of plates from a cupboard and took them to the table.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Setting the table.Mamásays it’s ready. Sit.”

I let out a long sigh, my stomach twisting even though I was desperately hungry, not having eaten all day.

“SeñorSalazar, we need to talk about what’s been happening and what to do moving forward,” I started.

He waved his hand in the air like he was a butcher cutting sharply through bone and meat. “We break bread, enjoying whatMamáhas graciously cooked for us, then we discuss business.” His dark gaze sliced straight through any retort I may have had.

Christophe pulled out a chair, and I sat gently into it, my body aching with the effort. I needed a shower, a stiff drink, a massage, and a good night’s sleep to recoup after the day we’d had. But more than that, I needed information.

A plan.

The only thing we had going in our favor was that we were alive, and the others had made it safely to Los Angeles, far away from Angus and his minions. For that small gift, I was grateful.

I sat numbly as I watched other individuals stroll into the kitchen. All seemed to be of Latino descent and male. Each individual that entered went straight toMamáand kissed her cheek before approaching the table where they took their seats.

Diego helped his mother serve everyone a heaping plate filled with Mexican delights I hadn’t sampled in years. Likely since the last time Christophe and I were vacationing in Cancun.

The plate was steaming with savory chunks of steak—or possibly pork—slathered in the most delicious smelling red sauce, Spanish rice, refried beans, and fresh tortillas rolled up and resting on top of the rice.

Christophe did not have to be told twice. My husband tore into his food with gusto, stuffing his mouth with meat while unrolling a tortilla and making a burrito with the beans and rice. He hummed around the second bite he’d shoveled in.

“Oh mon dieu, le paradis!”Oh my God, heaven!he moaned openly.

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