Page 10 of Caught By the Kingpin
I stare. Confounded.
It’s the middle of the night and they’ve all but rolled out a red carpet and bunting.
In one of my favourite historical romances there’s a scene where the aristocratic hero brings his bride home to his enormous country estate. The servants are all lined up in an intimidatingly formal parade. She charms them all, and wins the duke’s heart as well.
This is like that scene, and yet. Not at all. There’s no hostility when my glance darts over the faces in the crowd. They’re not haughty. I don’t have to win them over; they’re predisposed to like me.
Is this what Marco gets every time he comes home after nefarious mafia business is concluded? I sneak a look at him and he’s glaring at a man near the front with dirty blond hair, glasses, and an immaculate three-piece suit.
What’s going on?
A middle-aged woman approaches with a tray of daintily iced mini cupcakes and a cup of tea and I stare, confused, at what seems to be my favourite herbal tea.
I’ve slipped into an alternative dimension. Only explanation. First the ghost. Now this.
It’s a dream. I’m going to wake up with drool on my pillow and my phone screeching at me to bring coffee to my father’s office, stat.
“Paulo, is everything as we discussed?” Marco says behind me.
The man with blond hair steps forward. “Stage two of operation why… Uh.” He coughs. “Whisky has been implemented as best we could, sir.”
Marco shoots a disparaging look at Paulo and puts his hand on the small of my back. I can’t help but lean into his touch.
“What’s Operation Whisky?”
“Some…” He sighs with exasperation. “Important logistics.”
Oh. He does like whisky then. Huh. I assumed he didn’t, and we had that in common. I’m irrationally sad.
“Tell me what would make you feel comfortable?”
I think about the unhinged things I could say, and I wonder if he’d do them. Things like,stroke my hair, take me to bed and cuddle me, drape me over the table and make me yours. I settle for something merely weird.
5
MARCO
Those pyjamas are going to kill me. Cherry-patterned pyjama shorts that reveal her long smooth legs.
It’s been almost a month since we met, and Felicity has been in every one of my senses all that time. I can’t forget her vanilla and berries scent, the vivid feel of her warm skin, the sound of her lyrical voice that has a thousand chords inside it, all harmonious.
Something in me awoke when I saw her, a possessive creature stirred and focused, and growled,mine. And finally that creature is content.
I love seeing her in my home. My girl, safe in my house, protected. And maybe so does she, because her answer to what will make her comfortable isn’t going back to where she’s lived her whole life, or being with her family.
She’s suspicious, unused to being the centre of attention and seemingly not sure she likes it. But despite her fear and the fact it’s the middle of the night, she gulps and whispers, “That tea, a cupcake, a book, and then to go to bed?”
I grab the tea tray from Maria, giving her a nod of approval. They’re all going to get chastised for making such a big scene and Paulo might be laughing now, but he nearly made it sound like I’d plotted this whole incident to catch my girl. Which is only partially true. I was still working out the details of my seduction when the situation with Westminster happened. I’m not one to turn away opportunities.
“Come,” I say to Felicity. “All of you lot are dismissed,” I toss over my shoulder. They’ve worked hard to ensure everything is perfect for Felicity, and I’m grateful. But right now I need my girl to myself. It’s only a minute to make our way across the house, and Felicity’s mouth drops as I swing the library door open. She makes a gurgling noise.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes,” she squeaks. “I just… Wow.”
I suppose it is quite impressive.
Two floors high, the pale wood gleams. There are multiple ladders on wheels, and discreet labels separate sections on virtually every topic and genre. All the knowledge you might need, and the entertainment. My collection of murder mystery novels takes up floor to ceiling for twenty feet. But I don’t think that’s what she was thinking of when she said a book.
