Page 27 of Captive Mafia Wife

I scoff so hard I choke, coughing into the phone.

“Are you alright? I took a swim this morning. I may have some water in my ear, but you sound like you’ve swallowed a fur ball.”

“You. Are. Infuriating.” I look at the mystery man beside me. “Alex? Your cryptic messenger now has a name?”

“He’s always had a name. Now go put on something pretty and get in the car.”

“Or what?” I hiss into the phone.

His voice drops. “Or I’ll come down there myself to retrieve you. And I promise you—you won’t like that very much. Get your gorgeous ass in my car. Now.”

I let a string of expletives go, calling him every name in the book.

“And madame questionsmymanners.” He hangs up.

“Mademoiselle!” I shriek into the phone. I toss it to the side.

I’ll go. But only because I need a change of scenery. I can’t stay here with Callum’s men’s eyes on me; I don’t want to feel their stares as they question my loyalty.

It would break my already hurting heart.

And honestly, after the explosive fight with Callum in the Great Hall, I knew he was right. He has so much on his plate. I don’t want to worry him more.

And after those pain-filled words from my brother outside of O’Malley’s…

Freya, how could ye not know?

The words I can’t get to stop echoing in my ears. They’re weighing me down, breaking my heart repeatedly each time I remember them. A little space between Callum and me couldbenefit us both.

I’ll go, but not for the reason everyone thinks, not to create a relationship with Fredrick.

They say I was too young to remember the moment my parents first laid that precious bundle in my arms. And maybe I was. But if I close my eyes, I can feel Callum’s soft, weighted warmth, smell his soft baby scent, and a surge of big sister love and protection fills me.

Callum is a Viking of a man, but he will always be my little brother.

I’ll go to protect the one relationship that matters most to me if only to ease my brother’s mind. I’ll be Freddie’s captive if it brings peace to Callum. For now, just until I figure out how to prove to everyone that I am a loyal islander through and through.

But I will NEVER marry him.

And Fredrick best not lay one finger on me.

Or…tongue.

Chapter Eight

Fredrick

I headto the library to give Freya a few moments to cool off after her funeral performance, pretending to catch up on an unfinished leather-bound classic. I’m halfway through the third chapter when I realize I’m no more knowledgeable on war or peace than when I started. My only focus is Freya.

When locals heard the owner of Frisky Whisky Empire was seeking to staff a large estate home in Inverness, the list of applicants was as long as the river the castle overlooks. I had to choose quickly and asked Sabrina to help. She’s spent the last few weeks interviewing her favorites. Little did we know I would be the one taking over the castle and that we needed to staff up immediately.

Sabrina sent me her final group via bus last night. MAWR-vein and her small year-round cleaning crew were preparedfor all of us; beds were made in staff rooms, a roaring fire was ready, and electrolyte water was waiting in my enormous owner’s suite.

When I first bought Inverness for this plan, I ordered uniforms, hoping to make an excellent first impression on Freya. I was relieved when the Scots Knitwear truck pulled up with the delivery this morning.

MAWR-vein stormed into my office soon after, telling me she would not participate in Inverness’s dress code. “Morven, you’re far too beautiful to wear a stuffy suit jacket.” I pulled out the soft blue apron I ordered for her when I imposed the dress code, a white-stitched emblem of the castle on its pocket.

I could tell by the light in her eyes that she loved the gift in her Morven way; she grumbled as she stomped out of my office, apron already on.

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