Page 11 of Kingpin

6

Bonnie

My eyes fell openthe next morning, and I reached out to where I knew he’d be. Resting next to me, with his long form and his steady body. I rolled over, naturally seeking his warmth. After all, I was his newly wedded bride.

“Good morning, handsome. What do you say about—”

The second my arm fell against something cold, my brow furrowed. I moved my hand around the satin sheets where Israel should have been, and there wasn’t a trace of him there. I didn’t smell him. I didn’t feel him. There wasn’t even a smidge of his warmth left on the sheets.

Did he even come to bed last night?

Everything came crashing back all at once, and I quickly sat up in bed. My hand flew to my pushed-up breasts as I gazed down with my sleep-hazed eyes. I felt around for the glass vial. Surely, I wasn’t so stupid as to fall asleep with it on me.

Apparently, I underestimated myself.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” I hissed.

I leaped out of bed and quickly padded into the bathroom. The overwhelming scent of Israel filled my nostrils, and I searched around rapidly for him. The bathroom still had a misty warmth to it that helped my muscles relax. The steam hanging in the air clung to the mirror, enticing me to come take a shower. To clean up.

He takes a shower here, but doesn’t sleep with me here?

Something was off.

I pulled my bra away from my body and saw the glass vial clinging for dear life next to my breast. I picked it away, delicately, breathing a sigh of relief when I found it still intact. I couldn’t be that reckless again. For all I knew, the stuff could soak into my skin and kill me in an instant. I placed the small glass vial on the bathroom counter and looked at myself in the foggy mirror. I had fallen asleep with my makeup on. There were pimples in places I didn’t need them, and I cursed myself.

“Come on. Get yourself together,” I murmured.

I had to make Israel love me. I’d never be able to get close enough to him to do what my uncle wanted me to do if I couldn't. I mean, we weren’t even sleeping in the same bed! And we sure as hell weren’t sleeping together. I had to come up with something else.

Another plan. Another way to get him alone with me.

What if he knows?

The thought made me shiver. I didn’t want to think about something like that just yet. So, I refused to entertain the idea. I picked up the vial and slipped it back into my bra for safe-keeping, then went about my morning. I needed to look like my cousin again. After all, every piece of my future relied on this lie never coming to light. We were family, and so there were obvious similarities between therealBrianna and I, but she was always more glamorous than me. So keeping up that illusion was necessary. A bit of contouring, some heavy eyeshadow, longer lashes, and a sultry pout for the day. I planned out my entire look before shedding my clothes and taking a shower.

By the time I was done making myself up to be someone else, I’d spent almost three damn hours in the bathroom.

“I can’t keep this up every day,” I whispered.

With the vial encased against my chest in a different bra, I smoothed my hands over my outfit. Just like Israel promised, my things had been delivered. I had every comfort I was used to, plus some considering the decadent penthouse he lived in, but my life still felt empty. It still felt purposeless.

“Come on. You can do this. Snap out of it,” I reminded myself.

After slipping into some heels, I devised another plan. It was almost lunchtime, so I could make something for Israel. Not something hot, but something yummy. Like gazpacho. Or a sandwich. I was sure the stuff in the vial could easily be mixed with mustard or mayonnaise of some sort.

“A gourmet lunch, it is.”

After smiling to myself, I made my way downstairs. The clicking of my heels ushered me into the kitchen, where I promptly started sifting through the well-stocked fridge and pantry. Israel had just about every fruit, vegetable, and meat known to man. It made throwing lunch together quite the treat. I reached for his nice knives and tossed one into the air, catching it in the palm of my hand. Knives. My specialty. I felt more comfortable with them than anyone in my life.

Before I knew it, I was slicing and dicing and julienning up the best lunch I’d ever thrown together.

“There we go,” I said with a grin.

After making a curried tomato bisque from scratch, I made a batch of fresh homemade rolls. I toasted them bit of it to perfection before sprinkling the squares over the decadent bowls of soup, then used the larger ones, cut up into slices, to make sandwiches. After whipping up my homemade lime mayonnaise for a nice braised roast beef sandwich, I knew it would be simple to sprinkle the little vial between the rolls and call it a day.

“My schedule is very full today—”

“Oh my god!”

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