Page 24 of Abducted By the Mafia Don
“I’m used to sleeping without any covers.” Absolute untruth. Is my nose growing? “So can I turn up the heating?”
It might be, judging by how Dom is looking at me.
“Yes,” he grits out. “There’s a thermostat. It’s?—”
“Will you show me?” I want to get him in my room, like I’m a nineties pop song.
He nods with the sort of reluctance usually reserved for major operations and situations where someone could die.
“I looked around here for it.” I gesture at the bookshelves containing the special editions. I’ve been thinking about these a lot, especially since Dom added to the collection at the charity auction. “But I could only find these amazing books. I couldn’t believe you have this author in particular.” I tap the spines of the hockey romances that I was reading only last week. “I love them, and they’re indie published so not in the usual bookshops.”
My fake husband looks more uncomfortable than a penguin in a sauna, and swallows. “Mmm.”
“I wondered how you ended up with them?” I ask innocently.
“The thermostat is here.” He turns away, and moves to behind the door, where there’s a little panel.
Well. Of course it is. I knew that.
“Ooo, thank you.” I follow and deliberately slide in close.
He sucks in a breath as my arm brushes his. We do this in public all the time, but now we’re alone it has taken on a frisson of the forbidden.
“There…” He hesitates as I get closer under the pretence of looking at the temperature. “I’ve turned it up for you.”
“Maybe a bit more?” I suggest, leaning across him, seemingly to reach the dial.
He jumps back as the side of my breast touches his chest. Even through the layers of his formal clothes and my dress, contact between us is electric, as though in the short minutes since we were in public with a reason to be all performative affection, it’s built up a static charge.
I need more of him, and I have to know what the truth is here. My devoted husband when we’re on show, the carefully distanced man when we’re alone, or the gritty guilty, obsessed lover I saw last night.
“I’ll leave you to it. The room should warm up quickly, so hopefully you’ll sleep well.”
“I’m sure I will.” I’m looking forward to tonight.
He gives me a jerky nod, and strides to the door, then hesitates.
“You can lock this,” he reminds me.
“I know,” I say lightly. “But it’s safe, isn’t it?”
“You’re always protected in my house,” he replies roughly. “But I’d rather youfeltsecure, so you should lock your door.”
“I feel good.” When he touches me, I feel wanted and cherished. I had no idea there was so much power in being desired.
There’s something about the way that Dom said heneeded me last that makes my spine tingle. Safe, yes. Because no one hurts someone they need.
I smile innocently.
He scowls.
“I’ll try to remember.”
“Good night, bambola,” he growls, and swings the door shut behind him.
“Good night!” I chirp back, then add under my breath, “For now.”
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