Page 31 of Accidentally Kidnapping the Mafia Boss
“Mmmhum.” Her eyebrows lower fractionally.
“Are you jealous, pet?” I fecking love that idea. Let her be possessive of me. She can be a lioness protecting what’s hers.
“Pfft. Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffs, but there’s something insincere about it.
I grab her chin and force her to meet my eyes. And I was right. She’s practically green. “Liar.”
Biting her lip, her gaze slides away.
“Pet,” I say severely. “Look at me.”
She does, and the wobble of concern is so clear in her that my heart aches and lifts simultaneously. “I haven’t flirted with anyone since we met. I know I have a reputation as a player,” and it’s warranted, “but I haven’t slept with anyone for almost seven years.”
“Really?” she says, scepticism pouring out of her.
“Yes. I was lonely, and I didn’t realise why having women didn’t fill the gap.”
The flicker of hurt and fury is back at the word women, like it’s repeating on her. Won’t be mentioning that again. I’ll never do anything that makes her feel worried that she isn’t the whole of my life. My sun, around which everything else spins.
“And in the end, I stopped, because it just made the ache worse. Spending time with my family, or the men under my command doesn’t help either.”
“I know what it is to be lonely,” she confesses, leaning her head into my palm as I shift to cup her jaw, but it’s almost pained. Reluctant. “You don’t have to lie to me.”
“I have found one thing that makes me feel whole.” I dangle the bait before her.
It’s her. I’ll tell her, if she just asks.
“I’m glad.” But she doesn’t sound glad. She’s gone brittle, and sits up, flicking open her notebook. “Hey, what about this question? ‘What would your life be like if you didn’t think about your addiction anymore?’”
“Shite.” Simple answer. The thought of going back to life before Millie holds about as much appeal as living in an underground bunker the size of a coffin for the next forty years. I can barely breathe at the very idea of how unbearable it would be.
“Ah. Well.” Her mouth twists and she shifts position on the sofa. “I think you’re supposed to answer that freedom would be better.”
“It wouldn’t for me. Are you not going to ask me what makes my life complete, pet?”
“It’s not gambling is it?” she asks, faux lightly.
“No, but it is an obsession of sorts,” I confess hoarsely.
“Oh.” She nibbles her lip, and shakes her head, and mutters, “I guess I know. Sex. Women.”
Ah feck. I’ve built my reputation of being a playboy to be bulletproof, and Millie believes it as absolutely as anyone in London. And why do I think she shouldn’t? If I said I think I’m in love with her, she wouldn’t believe me, and I don’t blame her.
“Come on. Hot food for my captive.”
She looks up at me, confusion in her expression.
And I smile.
Because I can’t tell her, but I canshowher.
Later, she falls asleep in my arms again.
I stay awake for a long, long time.
I have one week to make her love me, and more importantly, trust that I’m not a player anymore. I’m hers.
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