Page 135 of Sinning for Santa

This isn’t just a normal ‘rich guy buying off people’ type of situation. Not with the danger that oozes from each of their pores.

“Am I…” I glance back at Devon, unsure how or what to ask, or even if I should. “Are you…”

“What?” Devon smirks, like he finds my uncertainty cute.

Ugh. I’ll just come right out and ask.

“Is this the mafia?”

I study his face for a reaction, and it’s his eyes that respond first, glinting a little as a sinister smirk engulfs his face while he chuckles.

“Probably not the kind of mafia you’re used to from Hollywood movies.”

“But, itisthe mafia?” I ask again and he shrugs.

“We don’t tend to call it that.” He brushes back my hair behind my ear, once again showing me how much he enjoys doing that.

Is he trying to distract me?

“What do you call it? The mob?” I push and he smirks wider.

“No.”

“Organised crime?” I continue, hoping I’m not pushing my luck too much.

“I guess you could call us businessmen.” He nods.

“Businessmen?” I narrow my eyes and he nods again.

“Yes.”

“Businessmen that are in the business of crime?” I try to clarify.

“Exactly.” He takes my hand, lifting it to his lips where he presses them to the back, and hot damn, I swoon.

Like, wow. It’s such a simple act, but no one has ever kissed the back of my hand before, and there’s something about it that sends butterflies straight to my belly, sending ripples of excitement through me.

“Oh…kay” is all I can muster until I remember the church we met in. “Is that why the confessional doors at St Catherine’s Church are bulletproof? Does your crime family own it?”

He grins at my question. “We don’t own it, but that’s where the Marx family worships, and Father Peters is happy for our added security measures as long as we make sizable donations to the charities of his choosing.”

My brows shoot up. “Really?”

He nods. “Really.” His eyes light up with something that looks a helluva lot like happiness as he tugs on our joined hands and starts walking towards his men.

“Come on, little mouse. Let’s feed you.”

At the mention of food, my tummy rumbles loudly, and it becomes all I can think about.

He mentioned gluttony earlier, and it’s a sin I’ve found hard to fight often, but knowing that binge eating my favourite chocolates and treats will end up showing on the outside, I tried my best to steer clear of them. Eddie was always the first to see the moment I put a little weight on.

But he’s not here and I actually don’t care where he is or if he thinks I’m a chubby sinner. I’m hungry, and for once, I have every intention of feasting.

Devon discusses a few more things with his men, that I pay no attention to, and then takes the cute little golf cart, driving us back up the steep hill to the Palace.

When he said he was going to feed me, he didn’t lie.

Mabel prepares a feast, and Devon’s men join us, sitting at a long table in the back room that looks like it’s used for counter meals sometimes.

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