Page 20 of Captive Mafia Wife

Luckily, Callum’s asked me nothing of that nonsense. He wants a protector, a defender who would put his sister’s life before their own. And as he said, he needs someone who knows the meaning of forever, which is one value I’ve taken from my staunch Catholic upbringing.

We rise to bid our farewells—what? Those heavy doors fly open just like All Hallows Eve after the party.

Freya comes striding in.

Callum and I stand there, bucks in headlights.

Her gaze goes from him to me. “Oh! You two cohorts again.”

Tension tightens in the air between the three of us. How much has she heard? I assure myself the doors are thick and solid. We kept our voices low.

Freya’s taste has become part of me, a fragrant melody that calls to me like a siren’s song. It’s been far too long since I’ve touched her. Standing in the same room with her and not being able to taste her is torture.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” I say, unsure of how much Callum is willing to tell her. It’s not my place to inform her of our plan.

“No, stay. Let’s us three talk.” He walks around the table, joining Freya and me.

Freya stands with her arms at her sides, elegantly dressed in a sleeveless black shift, her hair contrasting as it falls down her back. Refusing to look my way. She wants me gone. “What would the three of us possibly have to discuss tonight?”

“There’s no easy way to say this,” Callum starts. “Freya, ye have to get away from Glasgow. It’s the safest thing for ye, ken?”

“No.” She shakes her head, aghast. Her long, loose hair swishes over her back. “I’m not leaving our Norse Garden. That would further the gossip, make people think I must be with the Hoax, that there is some fracture between the Burnes siblings, which couldn’t be further from the truth?—”

“Excuse me, my Lady,” I say. “I could cut the tension between the two of you with a butter knife.”

“Well, yes,” she concedes without acknowledging me, “we’re in a wee bit of a disagreement right now, sure,” she flips her long hair over her shoulder, “but nothing like me joining ANOTHER gang. The men of the Kings are just as much my brothers as they are yours, Callum. Don’t ye forget it.”

Callum stresses his point. “I know, Freya, and they look upon you like a sister just the same. Which is why Bayne and I agree?—”

She cuts him off, shouting, lava in her tone. “Haud yer wheesht,brother.”

“Freya,” I warn, pulling her back.

She still doesn’t look at me but lowers her voice. “I can’t believe you talked to Bayne about this. We can handle this on our own. You’ve no need to get the island involved.”

Callum raises his. “‘Course I have. It’s your life we’re talking about, Freya.”

“My…life?”

“Aye, your life,” he says more quietly.

“What do you mean, my life, Callum? Don’t tell me any of the islanders believe a word of this Hoax nonsense. That would kill me quicker than any thug.”

He strokes his beard. “No. God no. I hope…”

“You hope?” Her voice squeaks in disbelief.

“They’ve seen you at the court with Jack,” I say, helping Callum. “They’ve seen the man you talked to at the club.

“A man did talk to me at the club and tried to tell me something, but your men ushered him away.” She’s adamant. “He approached me. Not the other way around.” Her green eyes slowly turn to meet mine. “I’d like a word alone with my brother. Do you mind?”

“Actually,” I address Freya. “I’d like a word with you first.”

Callum gives me a knowing look; we’ve already had our discussion. He turns to leave the room, Freya calling after him. “Callum, wait! I have more I want to say to you.”

“Later, Freya. Walk with me, Fredrick.” Callum says.

I walk with him to the door of the Great Hall. As we part, he offers me a firm handshake. Our eyeslock. What we’ve agreed to is now set in stone and the handshake we’ve shared has set things in motion. He’s ready for me to tip the first domino.

---