Page 10 of Christmas Mafia Prince
I sip some of my water and walk toward him, planning to speak to him as if we’re strangers, exchanging flirtatious comments. I wish we had enough time for a few moments in some backroom, my fingers buried in his warm crack, but that has to wait, so instead I appreciate the delicious curve of his ass. I’ve not even had a chance to see it bare, because the shower on the plane was too small for two.
As I approach slowly, just enjoying the view, a shop assistant comes up to him from the other side so I stall to give him space.
“Sir, have you not sampled enough? I understand it can be hard to choose, but we can’t allow the wasting of our product, as it is very expensive. I hope you understand. I can help if you’d like to make a purchase though,” she says with a stiff smile.
Kill turns to her, deer in the headlights. “I… um…” he then clears his throat. “I’ll be choosing as long as I fucking want to!”
“Sir, I need to ask you to leave,” she says with a scowl.
“You heard the lady, Killian. She doesn’t want our business,” I say in a clipped tone and offer him my hand. I don’t bother looking at the woman who decided to go out of her way and insult my boy, but her manager is already on her way, flustered.
“Mr. Van der Horn, what seems to be the problem?”
“One of your staff decided to harass my husband.”
The woman in question goes pale, but her manager speaks. “Your… husband?” She looks between me and Killian as heslides his fingers into my grip. She soon regains her composure though. “I will speak to Sophia about it. I am so very sorry. Is there anything we can—”
I butt in, because I’m seething when I see Kill’s lips turn downward. I brought him here with a promise of luxury at his fingertips, and he gets harassed from the get-go. “That won’t cut it. This is his first time here, and he has every right to sample whatever he pleases, whether he fitsSophia’svision of the perfect client or not. I will never stand for my family being insulted and treated as less than.”
Other customers watch us in silence, and I am fine with that. I pull Killian close and place both my hands on his shoulders. “I will never again cross your threshold, andmy motherwill hear about this situation too. Don’t bother completing her order!”
“Mr. Van der Horn, I am so—” the manager tries, but I just shake my head, and turn around, storming out of there with Killian.
I still can’t believe this has happened, and my mind conjures violent deaths for all theJardin de Oudemployees followed by the place burning down. Killian might have been a stranger yesterday, but I’m responsible for him now. He’s family. He’s my husband, and my head throbs with fury when I imagine how upset he must be. He might be used to bar scuffles, but words from bitches like Sophia can cut deeper than a knife.
He’s proven to be quite chatty, so his silence makes me uneasy. I don’t want the fire in him extinguished even if it means I’m the one getting burned sometimes.
“I’m so sorry about this,” I say, leading him toward a bench under an old tree. I hate that he’s now like a puppet letting me adjust him in whatever position I desire, but what just happened must have been quite a shock. “Did I not do enough? Shall I go back there? Break something?” I ask, crouching at his feet.
He snorts but won’t look into my eyes. “It’s fine.” He shrugs.
“It’s not. No one treats my husband that way.”
My heart skips a beat when the words catch his attention and he finally meets my gaze. “No one’s ever stood up for me, you know?” Maybe that’s why he’s so fast to bristle like a porcupine. But I can work with that. With gentle touch and soft words, I can make him believe me.
“I’m sorry. But I’m here now, and I will always be in your corner,” I tell him and squeeze his hands. I can smell all those samples on him now, and while it’s a dense cacophony of scents, I still want to taste them on his skin.
“For real, or just pretend? I’m getting a little confused.” The studs on his jacket might be a warning sign, but I can see they’re there to protect a vulnerable core, which I now see shining through his big brown eyes. Only now it strikes me he mightwantthe kind of protection I’d provide for my partner.
I didn’t expect this question. My world works in absolutes, and when I feel dedication, it’s so complete it burns in my chest. That’s how I feel about him now, and this compulsive need to protect him is not a fantasy nor a lie. Do I really have to be reasonable?
“That depends whether you stay my husband after Christmas is over.”
“So that’s on the table?” A playful smile is back on his lips and I’m surprised how much joy that brings me. It’s a strange dichotomy, since I thrive on the power I’ve got over him, yet enjoy the way he’s already wrapping me around his little finger. Is this what it would be like to have a husband? A man to cherish, talk to every day, and watch the sunsets with? Who knows, maybe with time he’d even learn to mend the simple injuries I sometimes acquire on the job?
Could my solitary life change for the better if this guy were a permanent fixture in it? What’s the worst that can happen? He saw me kill and isn’t losing his mind over it. Finding someonewho accepts what my family is involved in has always been the greatest hurdle.
“Nothing is off the table. I like you, and I think you feel the same about me already, don’t you?” I ask, squeezing his knee.
He bites his lip and nods. “Probably a little too much. I even got you something.” He pulls a lip balm from his pocket. It has the lavishJardin de Oudbranding.
I shouldn’t be that surprised, but I still click my tongue and shake my finger at him. “That’s a nasty habit, but you’re forgiven this time, handsome.”
We look at one another for a moment I want to last forever, but in reality, time is ticking by, and we still have plenty of shopping to do. “Let’s book ourselves in for hair and manicure appointments and then crash the shops. I won’t be leaving your side,” I promise and rise to my feet, offering him my hand.
First, we visit a different perfume store where I learn my husband’s favorite scents are rose, orchid, and jasmine. He even tells me why he likes them, how he finds it fun to subvert expectations when the scent contrasts with the rest of his look. I see that softness in him now, and it pisses me off to think he admitted no one ever stood up for him. What kind of shitty losers were taking advantage of him?
This time, the staff attend to him like he’s royalty and I love to see him flourish. When treated right, he’s not rude to anyone, and I’m surprised at how polite he can be when he wants to.
