Page 19 of Kidnapped By the Mafia Boss
“What?” Her face just holds curiosity and a bit of confusion. She toys with her cup of tea.
“For your first date. You can have another first date.”
“I can?”
“Yes. With me.”
She gasps, and I can’t tell if it’s dismay, anticipation, or merely surprise.
“I…” Sitting back, she glances around the terrace and garden, biting her plush pink bottom lip as she thinks. “I think I’d like that,” she admits softly. “You wouldn’t mind?”
My hand has gone to my chest instinctively, as though the ache can be rubbed away. When I speak, my voice is hoarse. “It would be my honour.”
“A first date,” she clarifies. “Can we do it now?”
“No.”
Her expression drops with disappointment.
I know I said I wouldn’t touch her, but this is impossible to resist. I lean across the table and hook my finger under her chin, tilting it up and brushing my thumb over the bow of her pink lips.
“Anticipation is part of the enjoyment, zayka.” I stroke her cheek then release her, and I’m gratified by the way her pupils have blown. Perfect. “Would you like to see my library?”
8
DIMITRI
It’s not an exaggeration to say I have the best day of my fucking life.
Jenna is enchanted by the library, with its triple-height ceiling and leather-bound books. I show her the old editions of smutty novels that used to belong to some of the more daring previous residents. I ask what she reads, and listen with pleasure as she tells me the entire plot of a six-book series of fantasy romances. I promise to read them. Internally, I vow to have a new library wing with the books she enjoys.
She’s curious about how this house became mine, so I explain how my father bought it from a bankrupt aristocrat and how the Voronovs moved to London and made our ruthless fortune here.
At her request, we wander through the whole house. When she gazes longingly out of the window, I offer to show her the gardens and the woods beyond. That leads to us walking through every inch of the house’s grounds, her curiosity insatiable. Karik follows us around loyally, seemingly having adopted Jenna as his person.
I scrupulously don’t touch her.
More or less.
Okay, I do touch her. But not as much or how I want. I’m a flawed man, who has been watching my girl for months now, so I guide her out of harm’s way with a palm at the small of her back, and cup her shoulder to turn her towards a pretty view. I brush dust from her sleeve and sweep a stray tendril of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear.
We walk through the forest along the most picturesque paths, and our conversation never stops. We’re both fascinated by information about each other.
She’s a veterinarian nurse, and loves animals. I knew that, of course, but I didn’t know that she dreams of being a fully-qualified vet, but her parents couldn’t afford to help her with the tuition fees, so she decided on the cheaper career path. I offer to sponsor her, but she laughs me off.
She asks questions I’d kill anyone else for asking, and I find myself telling her far more than I intended. More bloodthirsty than I expected, she doesn’t shy away from the less savoury aspects of the mafia, questioning the money and the tactics.
I hesitate over her question about my body count.
“Which sort do you mean?” I return. We’re walking through the forest, this part sloping down to a babbling stream with moss-covered boulders. The heat of the afternoon wanes and the sun has begun to slide down the sky.
“Oh!” She covers her mouth. “I meant… Oh god. But maybe asking about the unalived body count is as rude as the, er, sleeping body count.”
“It is impolite to ask a mafia boss how many people he’s killed,” I explain. “But those rules don’t apply to you.” I curse myself over and over for the stupidity of saying I’d answer anything honestly. Because every revelation has the threat that she might find this one too much.
Pride at being special glows from her and she takes her hand from her mouth. “So, you’ll tell me?”
We come to the stream, and she pauses at the stepping stones that punctuate the clear water.
