Page 144 of The Kingpin's Call Girl

“Let’s run away!” she begs. “We can go live in Rio or something like that.”

“Run away from my own clan? A man has to be able to look himself in the mirror.”

Her eyes widen. “Not if he’s dead! A man can’t look in the mirror when he’s dead! A man can’t look at anything when he’s dead except the worms eating his brain.”

“Come here.”

“No, not if you’re just going to walk to a meeting where they want to kill you!”

“You need to trust me.”

She mumbles something about having to pee and stomps off.

I lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It’s only here, lying here, that I appreciate how much I really have loved being king.

But not as much as I’ve loved Edie. I love her. Every last thing about her.

Things have been very good for such a short time.

But a man protects what’s his. He protects those he loves. And a king doesn’t run from his men. He sure as hell doesn’t drag the woman he loves along with him. Or worse—run and leave her behind. Exposed.

A low rumble sounds from the kitchen, followed by thepock pock pockof the refrigerator ice maker.

What is she up to? Getting ice? Does she have some sexy plan with ice?

Edie comes back, naked as the day she was born; her hands are behind her back, and her eyes have the look of pure devil.

Chapter Forty-Nine

EDIE

“Whatcha got?” he asks.

I smile. “You’re going to have to guess. Lie back and grasp the headboard.”

He gives me a suspicious look and scoots back, grabbing the metal bars at the top of the thing.

“Now close your eyes,” I say. “You’re going to have to tell me what you feel.”

He closes his eyes.

I crawl up over him, trying to keep everything quiet so he doesn’t hear the telltale clinking. I straddle his chest and lean up to kiss his Arianiti’s eagle tattoo. “I love this tattoo,” I say.

“Me too. And I love that you knew it.”

“Me too.” Quick as lightning, I handcuff him to the bed.

His eyes fly open. “Edie, no.”

“Sorry, but...”

“What have you done?”

“You know what.”

He yanks, trying to free himself. “Where are the keys?”

“Nowhere you’re going to get to,” I say. “And don’t think you can get out of them. They’re Bender’s copcuffs.”

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