Page 11 of Accidentally Kidnapping the Mafia Boss
5
FINN
I fecking love having Millie over my shoulder. She hardly weighs anything, and her breasts are so good on my lower back they should be illegal. If you could bottle the happiness singing in my blood right now it would sell in Kilburn pubs for thousands a shot. It would make me another billion, but I’d never do it.
Millie isall mine.
“Cute place you have here,” I comment as I walk around to the front door, hardly even taking a second to admire the sea view.
I have to duck to enter the house—being six-foot-five has its disadvantages—and I’m careful with my pretty little burden as I navigate the old-fashioned small spaces. There’s a cute and comfortable snug on one side, with bare stone walls, a log-burning stove, and deep sofas. I turn the other way, into a traditional kitchen with a wooden table and a range cooker that has herbs drying above it.
Selecting the most padded of the chairs, I go to drop Millie from my shoulder, and my hand presses onto her peachy arse, and feck.
Feck.
My cock is solid. I’m filthy to want a girl who’s only twenty-two.
It takes me a second to recover as my brain stutters, and I have to drag my palm from that curve to put it at the small of her back. I kneel and set her into the chair, then look straight at her—a novel view when I’ve been seeing her on a CCTV screen or from the corner of my eye—as she wriggles and peeks out from the hair that pulled out of her ponytail and swung over her eyes when I tossed her upside down.
She watches warily as I reach out, but doesn’t draw back. I snag a blonde tendril—it’s soft as silk—and brush it behind the shell of her ear. Then the other.
I’ve got her. She’s mine for seven days. And if I have my way, for life.
“What are you going to do?” she asks timidly.
“Let’s have a cup of tea first, and we’ll see what happens now you’re my captive, hmm?”
“I don’t want tea, and I don’t have any money.”
“English hospitality is bollocks,” I say, shaking my head.
Her eyes go wide. “Agreed. You could just release me, and save the bother?”
No.
“You created this situation,” I point out dryly.
She flicks her gaze to the door surreptitiously, so I go and shut it, locking it with the key she left on the table and pocketing her phone and the car keys as well. That will make it tricky for her to leave, given she’s in handcuffs, and I don’t want to restrict her too much. Unless it’s necessary.
“The key to the cuffs?”
Pressing her lips together, I think for a second she’ll refuse.
“In the end pocket of my bag,” she admits eventually, and I correctly identify the pale-blue duffle bag as hers. With her looking on, it feels like an intrusion of privacy as I peer in.Somehow knowing she’s observing my obsession makes it feel dirtier than when I was tracking her phone and watching CCTV.
There are white cotton knickers, plain tees, and a sundress. Fuck, I’d love to take her clothes and rub them against my cock like the pervert I am.
But I fish the flimsy little key out and pretend I haven’t just fantasised about her as I slide it into my other trouser pocket.
“Are you going to run again?” I ask conversationally as I close the bag and put it aside.
“Yes.” Her voice is defiant.
“Don’t run.” I wink at her. “Let’s have breakfast together first.” I stand and open the fridge and cupboards, finding utensils and pots and pans, and then find something I didn’t expect. I grin.
“Fancy waffles?” I pull out the waffle maker.
Millie blinks at me, then straightens her back. “You want me to make them? You’ll need to release my hands.”
