Page 8 of Kingpin's Baby
“You want me to fix this? Marriage is the solution I’m offering.” I can’t tell her why. She’s only twenty-two years old. If she knew her blood-stained older boss was obsessed with her, she’d take the deportation option.
“They won’t believe us,” Ren blurts out. “You? In love with me?” She tugs at her oversized T-shirt and scoffs. “No one is going to think it’s real.”
A baby. Instantly, that’s the thought in my mind, unbidden. If she was pregnant with my child, as well as being my wife, there could be no doubt that our marriage was genuine. The fact that it would be true on my side, and a pretence on hers… Well. There’s never a perfect solution. Grizzled old mafia bosses can buy the companionship, but not the love, of beautiful young women.
But that’s not what she means. There are certain expectations around kingpin’s wives. I reach into my desk drawer, and pluck out a matt black credit card that has a limit large enough to purchase London property. Sliding it towards her, I wish her affection could be bought as easily as pretty dresses.
“Use this to purchase anything you please.”
She chokes and doesn’t move to take it.
“Though, you don’t have to change. I like you as you are.”
“You do?” she replies faintly, gaze flicking between my face and the card, her expression one of suspicion, as if she’s scared it might be a trap.
“Yes.” If there was a London Mafia Syndicate annual award for understatements, I’m confident I’d win it with that answer.
“The man said he would return tonight, and that if I didn’t have what he wanted, there would be men to deport me in the morning.”
“You’re staying here. No one is going to hurt you or take you from me.”
“But you can’t stop the authorities, if they have a legal?—”
“No one. I’ll dispose of anyone who tries to touch a hair on your head.” My snarl is uncontrollable.
I’ve shocked her, I can tell. She recoils, fear in her eyes that’s there and gone before I can fully analyse it.
Donuts. Right. My solution is always death, hers is donuts.
“Follow me.” I stand abruptly, shove my chair away and stride to the door. With sheer effort, I don’t look behind as I take the stairs up to my private apartments on the upper floors. By the time I’ve unlocked the door, Ren is beside me. I hold out the key, and Ren cups her palm under mine. As I tip it into her hand, I stroke my thumb over her wrist. It’s a fast caress that I can’t help, and her skin is velvet for that split-second touch.
Stolen. Deniable. I love her so damn much. I know I shouldn’t, but I crave her.
“Make yourself at home,” I say, my voice hoarse. “This is your place for as long as you’re my fiancée, and then my wife.”
She looks around, and I try to see the rooms through her eyes. Tidy. Plain. Perhaps a little empty.
We could fill it with kids…
I shake off the thought.
“There are a couple of bedrooms. Take whichever you want.” I grind out those words.
“You think they’ll believe it’s a real marriage if we don’t sleep in the same bedroom?” Ren spears me with her gaze, uncertain, and yet also… I wonder if she has any comprehension of how the tide of her blue eyes drags me around when she asks questions like that.
I could reassure her that there is an armed guard at every entrance. That I’ll lock the entrance to this apartment and protect her with my life. No one will be asking about her sleeping arrangements.
“No.” I point to my bedroom. Through the open door there’s a peek of crisp white sheets and the palest of grey walls. “Have any of the rooms for your hobbies or whatever you like to do. But you’ll sleep next to me.”
She nods rapidly.
“We’ll be married today. I’ll get Harvey to hack into the registry so there’s no delay. A wedding boutique will bring dresses for you to choose from and a stylist will deliver you new clothes to your specifications. I’m not risking anyone going back to your apartment.” Although Harvey and a team will be lying in wait to catch the man who threatened Ren, find out who he’s working for, and dispose of him. Painfully.
“When I said no one would believe us,” she interrupts me, shifting from foot to foot. “I meant that…”
“What?” I demand. I am very invested in this plan. Nothing will stand in the way.
“No one will think we’re engaged because we’ve never even touched.”
