Page 41 of Possessive Mafia Vows

Kyle gestures to the coffee machine, and I nod.

While he fills two cups with steaming black coffee, I sit on one of the couches in his office, which is almost as big as my entire apartment. His computer screen is locked. His desk is neat, not a piece of paper or a stray pen in sight. If anyone had asked me to describe his office without seeing it, that’s probably how I’d have pictured it.

Kyle places a cup in front of me and sits on the sofa on the other side of the low, glass coffee table.

I swallow a mouthful of the black liquid too quickly and my eyes water. “So, do you know who they are?”

“I think I can hazard a guess.” He cradles his cup in both hands as if trying to keep warm.

“Are you going to enlighten me, or is it on a need-to-know basis?”

“Sienna, I’m trying to protect you.”

“Why do I need protecting? Until a week ago, I was perfectly happy in my little apartment, grabbing a coffee-to-go from Starbucks on my way to work, and not a tinted window in sight.”

His lips quirk into a half-smile.

“Until you came back from Ireland,” I add.

He flinches. But he doesn’t deny it. “I think you should move into the Wraith for a while.”

I almost choke on my coffee, and liquid splutters across the glass surface of the table. “What the actual fuck! We fuck a couple of times, and you want me to move in with you?”

Way to go, Sienna. I see the hurt in his eyes, and I don’t even try to suck the words back in.

“No, I told you there was no pressure, and I meant it. You can have one of the executive suites. It’s not ideal, but I’ll feel better knowing that you’re safe.”

I put my cup down, too hard, and wince as it clangs against the glass. I stand up and pace the room. My landlord serves me notice to vacate my apartment, and now this. It’s all a little too convenient. Too much at once. It’s almost as if Kyle planned thisso that I’d be closer to him. First stop, an executive suite, next stop his bedroom.

I stop pacing and face him. “Did you tell my landlord to write to me?”

Kyle furrows his brow. “No. Why did he write to you?”

My jaw is still clenched so tightly it hurts, but I think I believe him. “I need to find somewhere else to live.”

It hits me then like I’ve been slapped with a wet towel: I thought I had two months’ grace, but Kyle is making it sound as if I need to get out now.

“That’s settled then.” His voice jolts me back to the increasingly painful present. “I want you to move into the Wraith today. I’ll ask Lauren to get a suite allocated to you.”

A week ago, I had my gallery opening to look forward to, and now… Now, I feel as though I’ve slipped through a glitch in the galaxy and ended up in a parallel universe where everyone looks the same, but underneath the surface, they’ve turned rotten.

“No, Kyle. I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?” His eyes scrunch up in confusion.

“I can’t afford to pay for a room here let alone an executive suite.”

“I’m not asking you to pay for it, Sienna. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“That’s just it though.” I run my fingers through my hair. “You shouldn’t need to keep me safe. I don’t even know what’s going on. Do they want to hurt me? Are they trying to kill me? What have I even done?” The questions come tumbling out all at once.

Kyle rises and crosses the room to stand in front of me. “I-We think that they’re being employed by Nick Morris.”

A snort escapes my nostrils before I can stop it. “Nick!” My voice sounds incredulous. “That’s what this is all about? You and Nick? He’s a cosmetic surgeon for fuck’s sake. He’s not a mafia assassin.”

“Okay, maybe not Nick then. Whoever Nick is working for.”

“No.” I step away from him, shaking my head. “What evidence do you have?”

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