Page 19 of Caught By the Kingpin
MARCO
Apparently the mysterious and deadly reputation only works outside of my inner circle, as my second-in-command never ceases to give me shit. But he does get the job done. With no more than my vague order to Paulo as we left, we draw up outside a perfect little independent boutique.
“Are we going shopping?” my girl asks, confused, as I open the door and scoop her into my arms.
“Yep. You need something to wear that isn’t those pyjamas. I might not get you any shoes though, so I have an excuse to carry you everywhere,” I tease her.
“Marco, stop,” she says urgently, eyes darting to and fro.
“What?” I don’t stop. I shoulder our way in.
She wriggles and hisses, “I can’t, we have to leave!”
The shop assistant, clearly well briefed by Paulo, flips the lock behind us, lowers the blinds, and slips into the backroom.
“You don’t like the clothes?” I set her onto her feet and she snarls up at me like an angry kitten. I was so sure this would be her style. Sort of, relaxed-beach-girl vibe.
“I like them,” she says, massaging her forehead, looking at the floor, where her toes are curling. “But I haven’t got any money to pay. I can’t afford—”
“That’s not an issue. I’m treating you.”
“I’d be in your debt,” she hugs herself with her arms and I manage not to step forwards and force her not to cover her beautiful body.
“The reverse. I am inyourdebt. I stole you from your home. You let me taste you last night.” She begins to object to that phrasing, but I’m not listening to any nonsense. “You’ve trusted me. I’m merely requesting you allow me to give you some clothes since you haven’t got any, and I feel responsible.”
“I’d be doing you a favour, would I?” she asks with narrowed eyes and a sceptical furrow of her brow. She’s unfurled a bit since she woke, but not enough.
“Yes, that’s exactly it.” I try to look innocent. Though honestly, she would be helping me out. If I see her much longer in that top that hints at the swell of her perfect tits and those tiny shorts, her long colt-like legs on display, I can’t be held responsible for what I might do.
“Well, maybe just a pair of shorts and a top, so I have something other than these.” She plucks at the cherry-pattern fabric, looking around with longing eyes. A bad habit. She’s limiting this, fearful I’ll pick through her expenditure like her father did.
“You need more than one outfit. I don’t know if we’ll be able to get anything from Kensington. Let’s start with a hundred outfits.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffs, “I only need one.”
There’s some further negotiation about how many clothes I’ll buy her, during which I manage to haggle her up to ten outfits, and settle into a comfortable sofa and watch as she browses. It’s like when she was in the supermarket. She loves pretty things, but I can see her checking the tags and assessing the price and the value.
The first thing she tries on is a deep indigo colour skimpy silk top with a lace trim, and a pair of cut-off jean shorts. I almost groan. It’s basically as revealing as those fucking pyjamas. Yes, it’s summer, but could she not choose something that wasn’t torture? She’s going to kill me.
She fingers the silk and turns to look from all angles in the mirror.
“It’s so nice,” she whispers. “Can I have it?”
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation. Even if it probably will be the cause of my demise. There was me thinking it would be one of the other mafias, but nope. Felicity in that top and those shorts will do it.
“I didn’t even say please,” she objects, blinking in disbelief.
“Even better. What else are you going to demand?”
“What about…” She points at a rack of hoodies. Unlike the camisole, there’s nothing sexy about them. Just cute. Maybe she thinks that she’s only allowed sexy clothes?
“You can have that too.”
“I didn’t even say which one, or how much they cost,” she huffs. “How can you be sure?”
“Because, one, anything will look great on you. And two, I don’t care about the cost. I can afford it.”
It’s difficult for her. She’s been told she doesn’t deserve anything, and however hard she has fought, shit like that sticks.
