Page 3 of Accidentally Kidnapping the Mafia Boss
“Hi Finn!”
“Hey, Finn, how you doing?”
“Alright,” I acknowledge them. I nod and smile and flirt a little.
How is it possible to feel so fecking lonely when surrounded by people who are desperate to be your friend? I guess I really am one of a kind despite looking just like my family, because I can manage it here in any of my London territory’s pubs, in Ireland, or with the men who work under me in the Kilburn mafia.
It’s as though wherever I go or whatever I do, there’s something missing.
“Richmond is here,” Cormac mutters to me, peering over his shoulder.
“Bring them in,” I instruct him.
Cormac nods and doubles back, finding it considerably more difficult to return through the crowd of partygoers than it was to follow in my wake.
I take a seat on one side of the large circular table in the corner that Ronan is waiting at, and look across the bar. The room has resumed some sense of normalcy.
Everyone is having a good time, which is exactly as it should be. But my god it makes me empty.
“Kilburn,” the kingpin of Richmond says as he arrives with a group of men. I stand and casually smile, shaking his hand and making small talk. We order drinks, and there’s more chatter as we go through the social niceties.
Has he heard about the latest childish stunt that Essex has pulled? It’s a safe topic for a still probationary member of the London Mafia Syndicate, and he agrees. We move on tocomplaining that Westminster is a pain in the arse for going on about wanting to have fewer kidnaps. Then Richmond is getting into the conversation, warming to me and telling me whatever the fuck the kingpin of Angel has done this time. I’m only half listening, but it’s almost certain the Bratva boss lost his cool and shot someone. That’s the Dark Angel’s brand.
I want to get this over with and not linger. While like any Kilburn pub, this place has great craic, I’d honestly prefer to be tucked up in bed alone. Pick a girl to pretend to take with me and then put her in a taxi, fake some crisis to attend to, or make a play of being totally scuttered from too much whiskey. The usual things.
Most of the people in the pub are half my age, and drawn by my power and money, as well as the legendary Kilburn charm. And they’re all…
Except, no.
There’s one girl across the bar, who doesn’t fit. Big, anxious blue eyes. Honey blonde hair in a neat ponytail, and a too large jacket covers her shoulders. She’s trying to get the attention of the barman, and failing.
As though she can feel my gaze, she looks right at me, and our eyes lock.
My cock surges, feeling like she’s put her hand on it.
She’s beautiful. The sort of under-rated beauty that goes unnoticed amongst the expensive clothes and makeup of the women around her.
The bolt of recognition is lightning.
She looks as out of place as I feel, and her expression echoes what’s in my chest precisely. There’s so much weight on her shoulders, it’s as though she’s being dragged down by it. Her eyes hold something soft and bleak. Worry, and no way to stem it.
“Ronan,” I cut into Richmond’s story with a summons for my fixer. This is the girl I’ll woo and flirt with and take home. And I don’t think I’ll be putting her in a taxi. No. She’ll be in my bed, all night long.
First time in years.
“Boss.” He’s at my side immediately.
“Invite the girl at the bar with the blonde ponytail to join me.”
He hesitates. “The one in the jacket?”
He’s doubly confused, because it’s been years since I pulled this sort of move during a work meeting, and a girl in a coat isn’t the type I usually select.
“Yes,” I snap. “Now.”
Before she leaves. She can’t leave.
“The Playboy Kingpin strikes again,” Richmond drawls, the note of “I’m not impressed with you” clear and dangerous as a shard of glass in a bar brawl.
