Page 35 of Kingpin

He pulled away from the curb, and I quickly dug through the picnic basket. I pulled out the cheese cubes and meat slices I packed for myself, hoping and praying they didn’t bloat me in my outfit. I puckered my lips out and chewed like an animal, hoping my makeup didn’t get messed up in the process. While I knew I looked like an absolute idiot, I kept reminding myself what it was all for.

Israel.

The man I wanted to love me.

After finishing my own little snack, I reached down into the bottom of the basket. I pulled out some mints I stored down there and chewed on a few of them. I couldn’t wash my mouth out with water because I didn’t have enough room in my arms to bring my makeup bag. Even if I had, I’d always been garbage at touching up makeup in a moving vehicle.

I wasted more makeup that way, and I didn’t know when I’d have access to my own money next.

Not that it was about money. No, oh no. This was about Israel, and the bond I knew we shared with one another. It didn’t help that I wasn’t sure how to ask him for simple things like makeup. Luckily, I was a pro at rationing things. I knew how to get straight-up colonial if I had to. I hoped that wouldn't be necessary.

It didn’t have to be if Israel simply opened himself up to the idea.

The driver pulled up to the warehouse, and I thanked him for his time. Then I slid out and went in search of my husband’s office. Everyone seemed to be bustling around, rushing past me with arms full of small boxes while murmuring to themselves. I knew better than to interrupt. I had to admit, it piqued my curiosity.

Don’t get distracted.

I drew in a deep breath and focused myself.

I came to Israel’s office door and knocked on it softly. A muffled “come in” greeted me behind the door, and I softly inched it open. He didn’t look up from his desk. He simply crooked his fingers, beckoning me to come it. It wasn’t until my heels clicked against the floor that his head quickly lifted.

“What are you doing here?”

I locked his office door. “Just as I suspected. You're not eating lunch, are you?”

He blinked. “What are you doing here, Brianna?”

“Bonnie.”

He paused. “What?”

I drew in a silent breath. “My name is Bonnie, actually.”

He leaned back into his chair. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not actually Pava Moretti’s daughter.”

“No.”

“Where is she, then?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why? Because you think I’ll kill her?”

“No. Because I think she doesn’t deserve such a wonderful man knowing where she is.”

He snickered. “Nice save.”

I made my way to his desk. “Thank you. I worked hard on it.”

I set the picnic basket near him and hopped up onto the edge of his desk. I hooked my feet through the arms of his chair and scooted him closer to me. His brow furrowed in his confusion as I reached into the basket, pulling out the steak salad I’d made for him. Complete with olives and dipping sauce I made from scratch.

“I don’t have time to eat. I have much to do today,” he said.

I shrugged. “Tough.”

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