Page 29 of Seized By the Mafia King
But it’s not that. I just want him to like me, I admit in the privacy of my own head. What if I could be so good, he’d continue to believe he loves me?
I don’t even get lost on the way down to the kitchen. This house just makes sense to me. It shouldn’t, but maybe I’m done with fighting what feels right.
So when Zane has coffee and lemon drizzle cake spread ready for me on the table, I can’t help myself. I impulsively go to him, boosting onto my tiptoes.
“Thank you,” and I try to kiss his cheek. He’s far too tall for that without his cooperation though, so I see the full effect of his stunned expression, making me fear I’ve misjudged this.
“Sorry, I—” But that’s as far as I get with that sentence before he’s leaned down, wrapped his arms around my waist and liftedme off my feet. Then he’s kissing me with a hungry mouth that tastes of black coffee.
Electricity shoots through my veins. Zane is all the caffeine fix I need.
14
ZANE
She tried to kiss me.Shekissed me back.
Fuck, my heart is so light, it might fly away.
I hold her tight with one arm—her feet must be dangling a foot off the ground but neither of us care—and lace my other hand into her soft dark hair. I kiss her for indulgent minutes, angling our mouths together. She clings to me, arms around my shoulders, and her enthusiasm for our third kiss is better than anything I’ve ever felt. I’d give up forty years of life for this perfect moment.
It’s only when I hear my phone ping that I realise I’ve messed up. My bunny is such a distraction.
Not letting her go, I carry her with me, kissing her as she laughs and questions my sanity as I dump our drinks into travel cups and pass her the piece of lemon drizzle cake. I’m glad my staff arranged that as I ordered.
“Where are we going?” she asks as we get outside to where the helicopter is waiting again.
“To Bethnal Green. I’ve got something for you.”
15
WILLOW
I grip his arm as he guides me, one big hand over my eyes, one at my back. We turn, and sunshine falls onto my bare legs.
“Ready?” he rumbles from behind me. Zane insisted on covering my eyes as we entered, and while allowing a mafia boss to blind you sounds like a bad thing, I’m throwing all my preconceptions out. Zane isn’t like my family. He brought me my favourite cake, after all.
“Born ready,” I lie, and he huffs at my poor joke then lifts his hand.
It takes my sight a second to adjust.
We’re in a big, open room, lined with empty wooden bookshelves on three sides, and a large window that’s obscured. There’s a high ceiling with an old, round skylight, and fancy borders and flower patterns in the white plaster. The floor is dark, shiny wood boards.
“Do you like it?” Zane asks from behind me, and I swear there’s apprehension in his voice.
“I love it,” I breathe. And I do. It’s got so much potential. “What is it?”
“It’s your bookshop.”
I spin around and gape at him.
“There are still a few things needed,” he adds. “A counter, more shelves. Tables, I think?”
My mind fills in the blanks, and I imagine the room with book displays, and colourful banners.
“And stock of books, of course. That leads to Bethnal high street.” He gestures to where the windows are obscured with opaque film. “You could have a reading nook there, with cosy chairs?”
This is amazing. Better than I could ever have imagined, and I have been daydreaming about my bookshop since I was old enough to love books.
