Page 5 of Kingpin's Baby
His expression is bleak. Lonely.
My heart tugs, reaching out to him. Like to like. Because how many times have I looked out from my bedroom window and felt as isolated as he appears right now.
This is a disaster.
I don’t think he is going to kill me, but the trouble I’m in is much worse.
I fear I’ve just fallen in love with the billionaire mafia boss.
2
REN
Now
Mr Booth looks away, dismissively flicking some papers on his desk.
Since the first day, every time I walk into his office, Mr Booth looks up, spears me with those arsenic eyes of his, and asks, “What’s today’s death or donut question?”
But today, he doesn’t. He picks up an expensive-looking pen and spins it agitatedly in his fingers.
I swallow.
“Mr Booth.”
“Miss Smith.” There’s none of the usual warmth or dry wit in his tone.
This bodes wonderfully. My heart is beating so hard I suspect it will break several of my ribs by the time this conversation is over.
“Would you like to hear today’s question?” My voice breaks on the final word. He hasn’t looked up. Why hasn’t he looked up?
It’s as though he knows I’m going to ask for his help and has already shut me out.
I think of the sinister, uniformed blond man who came to my apartment last night. I cannot fail.
Mr Booth doesn’t reply. But slowly, oh so slowly, he raises his head and gazes right past me. It’s so close, I doubt anyone else would notice that he wasn’t looking into my eyes. But I’ve spent every morning with Mr Booth for months now, and I know what his regard does when it’s on me. It tingles across my skin like animated liquid glitter.
And this, by contrast, is cold.
He flicks the pen onto the desk where it skims over the shiny wood, bounces against a stack of papers, then rolls to a stop.
His eyes are more shadowed than usual. As though he’s tired. Maybe he didn’t sleep well last night.
I probably look just as exhausted, and far worse, because I was up all night turning over this dilemma in my mind.
I wish I’d been withhim.
“Yes.”
Right.Deep breath. No pressure, but you have one shot at this, Ren and if you fail, you’ll never see the man you love again, possibly end up in prison, or maybe wind up… Yes. Well.
“Twenty-two female, lives on her own. She’s an orphan, and has lost contact with her foster families. She’s just minding her own business when one night, a man comes to her door.”
Mr Booth is motionless, glaring at me. His pose, sitting back in his leather chair is deceptively casual. He’s annoyed about something.
I almost want to ask him what’s the matter, but he probably wouldn’t tell me, as occasionally he shakes his head and tells me it’s better if I don’t know some mafia business details.
“He says he works for the Immigration Office, and also is involved with one of the London mafias. Then he says thatshe’s being investigated, because she came to London as a baby illegally, brought by her now presumably deceased parents.” I don’t allow my voice to wobble. Much. “And does she have any documentation about her legal immigration status? It turns out, she doesn’t. It seems when she got passed from foster home to foster home as a child, her paperwork got lost. So she’s not eligible to remain in London. Her home.”
