Page 6 of Kingpin's Baby
Mr Booth’s jaw tenses, but he doesn’t say anything.
“The authorities are going to come after her, deport her. But the man offered her a way out. If she pays him a million pounds, he’ll sort her citizenship. He tells her to steal it from her kingpin boss, and that if she tells him, he’ll kill her.”
Mr Booth goes very, very still.
“So.” My lip trembles this time. “She’s wondering what she should do. She can’t steal the money because that will get her killed by her boss. If she tells her boss, the man might kill her. But maybe she could ask her boss to loan her the money, or to say to the authorities that her job can’t be done by anyone else, so she gets a visa? She doesn’t want to annoy her boss, but she’s scared and doesn’t want to be deported.”
“Which mafia was that man from?” If possible, Mr Booth looks even angrier. The crease in his brow might go right down to his skull.
Wait,that man? Why has he phrased it that way rather than,theman?
Never mind.
“I don’t know, he didn’t say. I think that was intentional.” My throat is drier than when I left dinner in the oven overnight. “The man is returning tonight for his money. So, the question is: if she told her boss about what had happened, would that be death? Or donuts?”
He’s completely motionless. Is he even breathing?
The silence drags out. It’s so dense it’s linking Mr Booth and me, and might consume us both.
“Death.”
My chest crumples, the pain unspeakable.
“Or donuts,” he continues, “is not the actual question here. Is it, Miss Smith?”
“No,” I whisper. I’m trembling.
“Say it.”
“I was hoping you could help. Please.” I close my eyes as my voice breaks. Keeping my job would be perfect, and I’ll beg for that. But I’m not too proud. If I can stay in London, that would be enough. Maybe I could walk past this office. Occasionally I’d glimpse him, from a distance. That might keep my heart from utterly withering away for the lack of Mr Booth. “I need citizenship or money. I can’t leave the country. Please, please help me.”
“Miss Smith.” His voice is dark and rough. “I’ll help you.”
Relief cascades through me, sudden and welcome as water in the desert. “Thank you so much. If you could just give me a statement that my job is?—”
“You’ll marry me.”
3
JASPER
I really shouldn’t be possessive of Renee. She isn’t mine.
The anger that has consumed me overnight since I saw a man visiting her has been turned on whoever threatened her.
Nobody threatens Ren. Miss Smith. I should keep things formal between us. She’s half my age, twice the beauty I deserve, and for all my wealth she instead has sweetness. I shouldn’t be following her, or so protective. I have no claim over my innocent employee.
But she could bemy wife.
“W-what?” Ren stammers.
“What you need is citizenship, yes? A marriage is the quickest way to achieve that.” Also, as a significant bonus, she would have my name.
The jealous roar that has been in my head since I saw that man go into her apartment last night hasn’t abated. Not even now I know that he wasn’t invited, and wasn’t her lover. No, that knowledge has just added a protective taint to my unrelenting need for her.
“You’ll live here. With me.” That will save me a lot of time spent idling outside her building on my motorcycle, or watchingsurveillance of her on my phone. “They won’t take you from my house.”
“Marriage?” Her brow furrows in confusion. “I thought you’d give me a fancier title of employment so they can’t deport me? Chief senior executive… particulate matter removal… specialist.”
