Page 10 of Kingpin's Baby
Trying to blackmailRen? I will take bloody revenge against them for scaring her.
But Ren requires more protection. From me.
4
JASPER
I wouldn’t have heard the knock if I’d actually been working. But I’m not. I’m thinking about my fiancée upstairs, planning our wedding.
“Mr Booth?” Ren whispers, not advancing into the room. “Is it alright if I come in?”
“You don’t have to ask.” My heart thuds louder than she knocked on the door. “And you should call me Jasper, since you’re going to be my wife.”
She slips in, closing the door behind her. Then it’s just her and me, and no cleaning cloths. It’s the same, but not at all. Because it’s not five in the morning, and she’s still here.
“Jasper,” she whispers, her cheeks flushing pink.
I rise and indicate the sofa in the corner. Ren follows, taking the seat next to me, perching on the edge, shoulders hunched, but her body slants towards me like a flower opening in the sunshine, despite itself. I want to see her grow in confidence.
“I wanted to ask about some things for the wedding?”
“Harvey has arranged a church, correct?”
“Yes, and they need to know details as soon as possible.” She sounds a bit panicky. “Number of guests?—”
“Your friends? Or anyone you consider family? Do you want anyone with you?”
She pauses, then forces out a sad little chuckle. “No. Not really. All my friends are online. And my biological family are…”
“They didn’t get donuts,” I surmise dryly, and she chuffs a half-laugh. “Me too,” I confess, and it’s raw in a way it hasn’t been for decades.
“I’m sorry.” Ren places her hand onto my thigh in a gesture of comfort, then flushes and snatches it back as though burned. “What happened?”
“My father died when I was seventeen. It was messy.” That’s one way to say that I ended up disposing of all three of my cousins when they came for me after he died of a sudden heart attack. They underestimated how prepared I’d be, even at that age. “Have you chosen a dress?”
That tugs a nervous smile from her. “Yes. They’re doing alterations, but it’ll be ready. Want to see?” She pulls her phone from her pocket.
“Aren’t I not supposed to see it before the wedding?” The last thing I need is bad luck. “What else?”
“We have to choose vows, and sort church decorations. I don’t want to get it wrong…”
“You won’t.” I’d defend every decision she made.
“Okay, but what about this wording…” She attempts to show me on her tiny phone screen, and I roll my eyes.
“Ugh, print that out, then we can discuss it. Or summarise it.” I like it when she does that in the mornings, bringing her wit and personality to the tales.
“Sorry, I forget that you’re…” She pauses. “A little older than me, and have different preferences about reading.”
“Experienced, princess,” I correct her. We need to get back to her not remembering how old I am or how inappropriate it is forme to be marrying a woman half my age. “And I have impeccable taste.”
That she barks a laugh at. “What are you doing marrying me then?”
My hand shoots out and I have her ponytail in my fist and her head tipped back before I’ve analysed whether terrifying my fiancée is a good idea.
“Don’t insult my wife-to-be.” My voice is low, husky, and furious. “I’ve killed men for less.”
Her lips part and she freezes, like the soft little prey animal she is. Our gazes meet and there’s a frisson in the air.
