Page 16 of Taken By the Kingpin
“The kidnap.”
“The plan to get you away from danger,” he corrects gently.
A normal person would be at least slightly horrified by the concept of a man murdering people to protect her… Apparently I’m not as normal as I thought. Because although I’d rather people didn’t die, the plain way Sebastian says that he’d do terrible things to defend me makes my skin warm. He’s massive and deadly and scary and he is ruthlessly using his power to care for me.
“Felt a lot like abduction,” I grumble. I probably need more coffee.
“I’ll bear that feedback in mind for another time.” Amusement lights his eyes into silver.
I scowl. “You’re making a habit of stealing women.” I do not like the thought of him taking anyone else. I am… Envious of his hypothetical victims.
Now he’s outright smiling. “Only you. And I’ll treat you very well.”
“Feed me?” Because I haven’t eaten since dinner last night and after everything that’s happened, I’m ravenous.
“I’ll make you breakfast, angel.” He turns his attention to pulling ingredients from the fridge and a couple of minutes later places a cup of tea at my elbow.
“What are you cooking?” That isn’t the question I want an answer to, but I’m too scared of rejection to ask why he was content to give me an orgasm last night then continue as though nothing has happened.
“My speciality, full English breakfast.”
“That’s your speciality?” It seems too simple for him somehow, but the warmth of the steaming mug of tea in my hands is comforting. A paradox, like him.
“Uh huh. I’ll tell you a secret.”
“You’ll tell me all your secrets, you promised.” Including why he didn’t take the opportunity to have sex with me last night in bed, or for me to return the favour at least.
“Yep. But you wouldn’t know to ask for this one. Breakfast is the only meal I know how to cook. That’s why it’s my speciality.”
I watch him work in silence. He says he can’t cook, but he’s as in control in the kitchen as he is anywhere else. Like his hands have dexterity and knowledge whether he’s playing my body like an instrument, killing a man who threatened me in cold blood, or slicing tomatoes with a gleaming blade. He gives a sharp “no” when I ask if I can help.
The smell is divine. By the time he places food before me, my mouth is watering from the oily tang of bacon and stuffy-sweet carbohydrates.
“That is enormous. It’s enough food for a week.” Fried eggs, sausage, bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes, baked beans and a hash brown cover the plate. There’s toast on the side and he replaces my mug of tea with a new one.
“Need to keep your energy up.”
“So I can escape?” I bite into a piece of hot butter-covered toast and almost moan at how good it is.
“For our lessons.” There’s a flickering emotion in his eyes so brief I can’t read it. “We have the whole day for me to teach you to defend yourself.”
His plate has twice as much food as mine, but he eats it with steady, measured focus.
“And answer all my questions.” I think aboutthatquestion. Why doesn’t he want to touch me again? I’m his prisoner. He could do whatever he wanted.
“I’ll always answer for you, angel.”
I’m not brave enough to ask, so I slide into the easier—easier?!—topic of why I’m his captive.
“If you’re here, do I take that to mean you’re not currently disposing of… the leaders of Carter and Fletcher.” I can’t quite bring myself to say, my father and ex-husband.
“Plans are being put in place.” He’s finished his food and sits back to watch me.
“Oh.” So I’m not stuck here forever. That’s… Good, right?
“Why? Do you want me to spare their lives?”
I think of how little I meant to any of them. But I surely should be better…
