Page 18 of Accidentally Kidnapping the Mafia Boss
“See, I am a good captive.” I demonstrate by getting onto the bed and wriggling under the covers.
Finn tugs the curtains closed on all the windows, blocking out a nominal amount of light.
Then he lies down behind me, wraps his arm around my waist and all the air gets expelled from my lungs as he jerks me flush to his chest. He throws one leg over mine, but I notice thathis hips are angled away, so I can’t feel what I nearly saw. Is that because…
“What are you doing?” I ask softly. “I thought…”
“Go to sleep, Millie.” His reply is gruff.
I close my eyes, and despite everything, the warmth of his body and the sensation of being secure—trapped, yes, but I can’t do anything about it, and this isn’t my fault or my responsibility to sort out for once—has my body relaxing.
I might have accidentally kidnapped Finn, but I’m his captive.
The playboy kingpin wants to keep me. For now.
There’s cold at my back when I wake. For a second, the weight of dread sinks into me that my brother is a gambling addict who has put himself in debt way over his head, I’m a nurse whose next shift probably starts in about five minutes, and I’ll have hundreds of people to take care of for twelve hours, and I’m alone.
Then I open my eyes, see the cottage bedroom, and I remember the kidnap.
And Finn.
I jolt upright with all the grace of a three-legged panda falling off a log, since my hands are still cuffed. Inpinkfluffy handcuffs.
Ohhh kill me now.
Finn is sprawled in the comfy chair, facing the bed, on his phone. He’s changed into a T-shirt and a pair of jeans from my brother’s bag, and they’re a smidge too small. The white T-shirt picks up threads of grey at his temples that were almost invisible before, and hugs his biceps, revealing the shadows of his tattoos beneath. His brows are low.
I suppose I should be fist pumping because technically I slept with a stunninglygorgeous man.
But the cuffs make it difficult, plus he didn’t touch me. He was a gentleman, disappointingly. Is the only way I can get a man to spend time with me by deprivation of liberty?
What a fail. I’ve always been shy and awkward with boys, but this is absurd.
He’s beautiful. Powerful. Rich. All the things I’m not, and suddenly I’m really aware of how pointless it is to make this into something it isn’t. He’s just playing a game with me, like a sleek jungle cat. For all he’s wearing casual clothes, he’s a jaguar with black fur and green eyes.
Am I seriously thirsting over my victim/captor, when my brother could be in trouble for all I know? Ugh. I’d like to think he’ll have been calling me, but I doubt it. We were so close when we were kids, and then long shifts and his gambling “hobby” pushed us apart, leaving me alone.
He is still my little brother. However tall he gets, I’m still the one who made him breakfast cereal when our parents left us for days on end.
“Can you phone my brother? Or can I call him from your phone?” I ask.
Finn looks up, and his expression instantly brightens as his green eyes meet mine.
Then he blinks, as though he has only just processed what I said. “He’s a big boy.”
There’s something evasive in the kingpin’s answer, but I can’t identify what it might be beyond the obvious. Finn Kilburn likes to be in control.
My gut turns over. While Noah won’t even realise I’m gone, I’ll be stuck with the man I’ve been having inappropriate thoughts about, who is probably just toying with the little girl—compared to him—who accidentally kidnapped him.
“He’ll be okay without you for a week,” Finn continues.
What? Does he not intend to leave immediately after getting some rest?
I can’t. I just can’t do this.
A week with my crush is humiliation in seven twenty-four-hour shifts on top of whatever punishment Finn has planned. Even dealing with my brother would have been better than falling further for a man who is so out of my league he’s like a professional football player and I’m a toddler with a foam ball.
“You don’t want to spend that long here.” That sounds desperate.
