Page 4 of Taken By the Kingpin
“What? I don’t want to dance,” she protests, but bites her lip and her eyes say the opposite.
“Yes, you do.” And ridiculously, despite my never dancing, I’d like to with her.
She looks over to her boss who, seemingly placated by her award, gives Jeanette a gracious nod, and a word about having earned some fun. Jeanette’s show of reluctance is belied by a barely hidden smile as she asks her boss to look after her purse, and gives me her hand.
Then her expression is back to wide-eyed shock as my fingers clasp over hers. The touch is hardly anything, but I feel it to my bones and obviously she does too.
Her hand is tiny in mine. Precious and small and I savour it as we walk into the group of dancers. Then, even better, I place a palm on her waist and pull her to me.
Not too close. Certainly not as close as I’d like, as I don’t want to scare her.
It’s an upbeat tune and I lead Jeanette into turns, lift her in spins, and dip her low over my arm. She tries to keep a straight face but only holds out for about thirty seconds because she clearly loves to dance. After that she’s giggling and those violet eyes are sparkling like the faux stars on every wall and the ceiling.
The music merges into a slower dance and she steps into me with a shy smile.
Holding her in my arms is the missing words of a poem I’ve been repeating for my whole life. My very soul is at peace when I’m holding Juliet.
Jeanette.
Juliet was the child. Jeanette is this perfect young woman. Too young and beautiful for me, with my scarred body and ripped soul. She’s untarnished by the world, despite all that happened to her. That sort of resilience takes my breath with admiration. She is stronger than anyone thought, including me.
It’s only then I realise. She’s an innocent.
There is no way she isn’t a virgin. Not with the way she is learning to move with me, fitting herself to my sway with the music. She’s discovering her body and how it feels when she’s close to a man. I can see it in the inquisitiveness in her eyes and the softening of her stance.
I had feared Fletcher ruined her in some way before I got there, or maybe just scared her off the whole idea permanently, but no. She’s still untouched and curious.
And that thought is an avalanche of relief for her and a fire of lust for myself. It’s enticing in a way I didn’t anticipate.
We keep dancing, in tune with each other and the music. It’s too easy. We go to the bar for water, twice, and Jeanette tells me about her extrovert but grumpy Sagittarius boss and predicts the star signs of my team based on what I tell her about them. Apparently my second-in-command is probably a Taurus. I’m entranced by her. I’m more delighted than can be contained in my chest that she talks to me like a friend. I crave hearing every thought that goes through this woman’s mind.
And fool that I am, I don’t interrupt her. I can’t bring myself to spoil the mood of our enchanted evening until I absolutely have to. I want to be her prince charming until midnight. I ignore the two grunts in suits who appear at the bar, tracking Jeanette’s every move. She doesn’t notice them, as though she only has eyes for me.
We return to the dance floor when there’s a pop song she likes and the back of my mind is cringing at the music. But Jeanette takes so much joy in it and we work so well together—a prelude to how we’ll be in bed I’m sure—I don’t care. I shove all thoughts aside.
During a slow song—the third in a row—she tilts her face to look into mine. I’m struck anew by her snub nose and the smattering of freckles on her cheekbones. And that’s when I notice out of the corner of my eye a third of Fletcher’s henchmen moving closer. Too close.
Ah damn. Reality was going to intrude sooner or later.
“Angel—” I cut her off mid-sentence about her little apartment. “You’re in danger.”
She tenses and I wish we were back at the fun—twirling so her skirt swooshes and she laughs helplessly—part of the evening.
“If I am, it’s only because you’re here.”
I grit my teeth. I should have known this wouldn’t be easy. “See that man in the corner?” I nod to the grunt in an ill-fitting black suit that hides a gun holstered around his chest.
She lifts her chin in a gesture I interpret as a yes.
“That’s one of Ross Fletcher’s men.”
Fear goes through her eyes at the name of her ex-husband. I can see her trying to ascertain if I’m telling the truth. On the one hand, Fletcher drugged her and forced her into marriage. On the other, it has been five years since she saw anyone associated with her family’s mafia. My arrival coincides with the appearance of Fletcher’s men, and that’s suspicious.
“Is he with you?”
“Things have changed.” There used to be a trio of mafias that worked together. Then Laurent under my leadership became bigger, richer, more profitable. The tentative trust and peace broke down. “They want their lost princess back now they see a chance. Laurent is growing fast and it’s causing tensions. Your father thinks having you found and reunited with Fletcher would cement their alliance.” And Fletcher is still irate that his toy was taken away.
“They don’t know where I am, or who,” she protests. “I’ve been hiding for five years.”
