Page 30 of Seized By the Mafia King
Disappointment twists in me. “How can I fund it?”
“Shops make money, no?” he replies dryly.
I want to make my bookshop outstanding. The place of my dreams, that would do this building justice, and that needs investment before any customers step inside. “Yes, but?—”
“All the setup will be paid for by me,” Zane cuts me off.
“A debt.” My stomach dips. I know about mafia debts.
“A gift,” he corrects softly, then the corner of his mouth tugs up. “Though if you want to give me something in return, I won’t complain.”
“You won’t complain, huh?” I can’t help but smile back. “What were you thinking of?” My mind goes to the feel of his cock at the back of my throat and him losing control. I wouldn’t mind that again. I enjoyed seeing him overcome, helpless with pleasure that I gave him.
He steps forward and draws me gently into his arms, hands at my waist. I look up into his handsome face, and remember his expression as he came without even any direct contact between us this morning. He looks as intense now as he did coming apart as he moved me over his cock.
“What about a baby?” he says, low and dark.
I’m shocked all over again, and a frisson of arousal flicks to my core. I didn’t really think he was serious when he said yesterday he wanted children.
“Is that one of the firsts you’re claiming?” I’m not sure if I want it to be, or not. Maybe I want him to say it’s non-negotiable. Or would it be sweeter if this was just a gift between us, no deals?
He’s unreadable as he tilts his head. “It could be.”
“Why?”
“Why do I want to breed you?” His eyes go soft and intent at the same time. “I should think that’s obvious.”
Oh. My mouth goes dry, and my body is suddenly brittle. Just a mafia thing, after all. “An heir.”
He laughs. “No, not that.”
Raising his hands, he sweeps my hair back as though he’s going to make a ponytail, then tugs. My chin tilts up. I’m his puppet.
“I want to give you a baby because I want to have you entirely, without limits,” he rumbles, looking down with those white-blue-heat eyes and I melt like he’s a blowtorch. “Taking you raw, and filling you up would be ecstasy. I’d like to fuck you bareback, nothing between us, until you’re overflowing.”
I can’t breathe. But not in a bad way. More like, if I move at all, maybe he’ll stop saying these things and I couldn’t bear that.
“My fertile little bunny, I want us to have a dozen kids. I want to plant my seed deep inside you and watch it grow. I’d love to see you swollen and fertile.”
“And the bookshop?” I say. “Why the bookshop? Just to trade for a baby?” The doubt is instinctive. There’s a voice in my head from my family that says a mafia princess doesn’t do anything as lowering as work in a bookshop. And nothing good in my life has ever been without a cost I wasn’t willing to pay. An offer of two things that I want—a baby and a bookshop—must have a catch.
“No,” he says harshly. “Never that.”
Taking my face between his palms he looks into my eyes, and despite everything, I think there’s honesty in the kingpin’s severe expression.
“Because I believe in you, and your vision for what a bookshop can be. I think this will be a fantastic resource for Bethnal. You’ll fill it with joy and knowledge and escapism.”
It’s a good thing he’s holding my head, because otherwise it might just fall off. He doesn’t think it would be a bad thing for me to do. He sounds not just accepting of my idea, but proud. Supportive.
My heart squeezes. “Really?”
“Of course.” He nods seriously. “And I want to make you happy.”
That steals my breath. No one has ever said that to me before. In fact, I don’t think anyone has ever cared in the slightest about my happiness, or my opinions, or anything but what I could do for them.
“Zane…” I don’t know who moves—him towards me or me backwards drawing him with me—but my bottom hits the desk. Then he has bumped me onto it, and his fist is in my hair, and he forces his way between my knees.
“Willow,” he murmurs. “Say something. Because if you don’t, and you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to take it as an invitation.”
