Page 106 of The Gangster King

I follow her with my eyes as she walks to the meat section. Lifting a melon, I let my eyes run over her body.

This is the closest we’ve been for days, and I feel my muscles tense and cock thrum with need. She continues around the store and stops at alternative milk cartons.

For ages.

Jesus how long does it take to decide on oat, almond, or coco-fucking-nut?

Impatience gets the better of me, and I start walking closer.

I don’t know if she’ll recognize me in the blue jeans and white shirt I’m wearing. It’s not my usual uniform. My tattoos are visible, and she knows my ring and chunky Rolex watch. I rarely take either off.

I pass her and she lifts on her tiptoes to reach for a carton just out of her reach.

Without thinking, I lean over, hand it to her, and keep walking.

“Thank you,” she says, and my entire body shudders as my pec rubs against her shoulder. Electricity blasts through me as the need to pull her into my arms almost ruins everything.

Fuck.

I stride around the corner and lift a box of whogivesafuck crisps and stare at the label.

I wait to see if she follows.

Or runs.

I can see the exits from here and if she even tries to walk out of the store, I’m going after her.

Twenty heartbeats later, Adelina appears at the end of the aisle. She glances away from me and keeps shopping.

Fuck.

I’m not ready to talk to her yet.

I need more time.

She needs more time.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

ADELINA

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Okay, confession. I can’t cook.

I mean, I’m not going to starve but I never paid that much attention to my mom and grandma when they were giving me lessons.

I pretended to, but they always chastised me for messing things up. In the end, I would hover around my father and brother, hoping they’d let me hang out with them.

I’ve always been more interested in business.

Perhaps that’s how I caught snippets of what my family did. It was, looking back, the beginning of me wanting to get away. I felt shame about what we did.

The older I got, the more conscious I was of the ramifications to innocent people.

So anyway, I can’t cook all that well.

But I have a cart full of groceries I’m going to struggle to carry home and have no real idea if I have all the kitchenware to actually make any of it.

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