Page 22 of The Mobster's Angel

My mind is spinning, trying to process everything he’s just said. But he seems to expect an answer. And there’s something in me that longs to never disappoint this man.

“I guess I thought… that you were just being kind?”

“There’s nothing ‘kind’ about my feelings for you, Olivia. Did you not just hear what I said? I’ve been fuckingstalkingyou for the last twelve months. You’re a drug, and I’m an addict. My love for you is a sickness. No happiness exists in this world for me without you by my side. So stop torturing me and just fucking say yes.”

His words should frighten me. His confession should have me running from this room, from this house, fromhim.

I already knew that he was a powerful man.

He demonstrated last night that he’s also a dangerous man.

A powerful and dangerous man who has just admitted to stalking me.

And yet I don’t feel frightened. If anything, I feel safer and more protected than I ever have in my life.

There’s something thrilling about a man wanting me so much that he’d go to the extremes that Jack just admitted. But even more than that…

The anguish in his voice, the desperation on his face as he waits for my response, unlocks something deep inside me. I feel a rush of tenderness toward him at the realization that only I can ease his pain. Only I can put him out of this misery.

When I said that Grams was the only person that I’ve ever loved, that was the truth. She protected me and kept me safe in a way that no one else ever has.

Until last night.

I squeeze his hands.

And then, blinking back tears, I utter the word that will forever change both of our lives.

“Yes, Jack, of course I will. A thousand timesyes.”

EPILOGUE

Jack

Four years.

Four amazing years she’s been mine.

Five if you count the year I spent obsessing over her.

And they’ve been the best four years of my life.

I wake up beside her every day, just like I promised her that very first morning.

Does she wake? Sometimes.

Sometimes not.

But I let her be.

Sometimes our son, Cole, comes bursting into the room like the fired-up tornado he is. I don’t know how he does it. It’s like the second his eyes open in the morning, he’s ready for war.

I find him something in the kitchen to gorge on (he’d eat a poorer man out of his home) and then head back up the stairs to get Sophie, our youngest, out of bed.

She has my hair but her mother's round face, and just like her mother, I’m absolutely smitten with her.

Olivia says I spoil her.

I don’t give a fuck. I spoil Olivia, too.

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