Page 9 of Abducted By the Mafia Don
I jolt as I see Taggie behind him, wearing an oversized T-shirt and a pair of baggy leggings with seemingly nothing else. Her curly hair is tousled and a bit fluffy, like a blonde halo.
It’s barely seven in the morning. I thought she’d sleep for hours more.
Her gaze zeroes in on me as though we’re connected, and I have to suppress a jolt as I remember standing over her in the darkness last night, fisting my cock until I came with a low groan of hollow satisfaction.
Just being near her was a turn-on, and it is now too.
“Come in, bambola.” I can’t stop looking at my girl as she creeps forwards.
Most people’s eyes are drawn straight to the row of windows behind me that look out onto the River Thames and parkland on the other side. Taggie just looks at me.
“Thank you for bringing her to me, Gavino. That will be all.”
Gavino nods, his brow furrowed with worry, but retreats silently.
“He calls you Dom?” She seems almost upset.
For a beat, I stare at her in a clash of confusion and lust. It must show on my face, since she mutters, “I thought you said no one called you that.”
I smile at the misunderstanding. “No, he calls me theDon.”
Gesturing at the chair in front of my desk, I retreat back to a safe distance where she can’t see my erection pressing towards her, and nervously, she slides into the leather seat.
“Half my men are Italian, including Gavino. They came with my mother from Sardinia. The others are from London, like Edward who you met yesterday, and are my father’s legacy. And they all call me Don, because…” I swallow. It’s still a bit painful even after all this time. “Because that was what they called my father. He insisted on it as a mark of respect for my mother’s heritage. We speak Italian for business a lot, and amongst the family, when…” I peter out, suddenly aware I’ve said more than I needed to. I can’t help it. I want her to know everything, and have her feel at home in Richmond. It’s a fucking stupid impulse. “I didn’t mean to give you a whole history lesson.”
Her eyes brighten. “It’s okay.”
A girl as lovely and innocent as Taggie isn’t meant for a blood-soaked kingpin like me.
What would she say when I reveal that I’ve been stalking her since I first saw her? There will be the inevitable question of why I found her originally, and the answer to that is simple and unforgivable.
I intended to kill her.
And the moment I saw Taggie, everything changed. It’snot that I didn’t believe in love. My parents loved each other, and my family cared about each other.
I just didn’t think it was something that would happen tome.
I certainly didn’t imagine I’d be fucking Romeo and Juliet’ed like a cliché from a 1990s movie. My only love sprung from my only hate.
She’s Thaxted’sdaughter, but I can’t murder her. I’d burn the world down before allowing anything to so much as bruise her.
“I just wanted to say thank you before I left.” Taggie interrupts my thoughts with nervous words that pour out over each other too fast.
Something dark seeps into me. “You’re welcome. But you need to stay long enough for the clothes I ordered to arrive. Charming though that look is…” I indicate the T-shirt that hangs almost to her knees. “Shoes, at least?”
“Oh.” She wriggles uncomfortably. “I couldn’t put you out like that.”
“Nonsense. Sit. Some breakfast?” I quickly message Edward, requesting tea and hot buttered toast, and make a little show of asking what she wants and how she prefers her tea, as though I didn’t already know she likes it white as her innocent soul, and just as sweet. Two teaspoonfuls of sugar.
“Did you sleep alright?” I say casually, and my heart jumps as a wary expression I can’t identify flashes across her face.
“Yeah. No nightmares,” she replies.
“Good.” I ask her about her grandmother’s reaction, and it doesn’t take much prompting for her to tell me all about her granny. I gobble up every detail she unwittingly tells me about herself, from the fact that her grandmother thinks shereads too many books, and was sceptical about Taggie’s psychology course at university, but Taggie won her round.
The tea and toast arrives and she cautiously takes a bite, then another as she finds it’s exactly the bread she likes, slathered in butter.
“It’s just you and your Grandmother?” A gentle probe. I’d listen to details of Taggie’s life all day, but I need to be certain of the situation. How much danger is she really in?
