Page 49 of Scandalous Kingpin
So much for wedded bliss.
After my bath, Christian tucked me into bed and then left. I racked my brain, trying to understand what happened for him to just switch off like that. I tried to stay awake and wait for him, but my eyelids got heavy and sleep pulled me under.
I awoke the following morning with a heavy arm hooked over me, realizing Christian must have slipped in next to me sometime in the night. While I knew there were things we had to work through, the fact he was in the bed—with me—gave me hope.
Careful not to wake him, I padded over to the bathroom where I took a shower and changed into comfortable clothes, then beelined for the kitchen. I brewed myself some coffee and got straight to work.
An hour later, I had a full Irish breakfast prepared: bacon, sausage, baked beans, eggs with (and without) mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, and hash potatoes.
Christian appeared in the kitchen wearing nothing but the sweatpants I now knew lived on a shelf in his closet, looking as hot as the devil himself. He timed it perfectly because I was just plating the toast and marmalade.
He leaned against the doorway and I let my gaze travel over his body, shudders coursing through me. My husband was drop-dead gorgeous, his golden skin looking delicious enough to lick my breakfast off of. This was the first time I was seeing him without a shirt on, and the six-pack he boasted was well worth the wait.
I winced and quietly berated myself.
He might not appreciate my ogling. I was desperate to show him I craved him—perceived imperfections and all—but my intuition warned me to tread lightly.
“Good morning.” His eyes darted to the table behind me before they returned to mine, studying me as if he needed assurances that I still wanted to be here. “What’s all this?”
“An Irish breakfast.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Would you like some coffee or tea?”
He closed the distance between us, his bare feet silent against the shiny tiled floor, and cupped my cheeks. He surprised me by pressing a kiss to my forehead. It wasn’t exactly what I’d been hoping for in the light of a new day, but we were getting closer. Right?
“Coffee, please.”
I nodded. “Sit and I’ll get it for you.”
“I didn’t know you liked to cook,” he remarked, his eyes following my every movement.
I glanced over my shoulder at him. “There are many things you don’t know about me.”
A half smile pulled at his lips. “I wouldn’t be so sure, angel.”
“Meaning?”
I had a suspicion, but I wanted to hear it from him. “I’ve had my eye on you.” He shrugged and sat down at the table.
“You mean like… a background check?” I batted my lashes innocently.
He rolled his eyes.This man. “I guess you could call it that.”
“Or we could call it stalking,” I said casually, filling his cup with coffee and handing it to him as I took a seat.
He grabbed my hand, pressing it against his chest, right above his strong beating heart. “I mostly wanted to know how to get you settled in our home.”
Our home. I thought of the clothes folded neatly in the walk-in closet, all my favorite products lining the shelves in the bathroom, and I blushed. Was it wrong that the gesture made warmth erupt in my chest? It had to be. Could I find it in me to care? Not for a second.
“I’m sure that’s what all you mafia men tell yourselves,” I teased. “Where did you go last night?” He shrugged, but remained silent. I chewed my lip for a moment but I just couldn’t keep it in. “I don’t think secrets are a good way to start a marriage.”
I held my breath as I waited, ghosts dancing in his eyes. “Sometimes I have nightmares.”
His admission shouldn’t have surprised me. After all, I’d heard some of his story and I suspected he gave me a lighter version.
“I can handle them,” I said with conviction. A small smile pulled on a corner of his lips. “Now eat.”
“Yes, wife.”
My cheeks warmed, my heart pounding in my ears. I secretly wanted a real marriage and I’d give it my best shot to have it. I felt honesty was a step in the right direction.
