Page 12 of Stolen By the Mafia King
JESSA
I’m his captive.
It takes me a while to remember because I’m so comfortable as I wake, I find it impossible to feel any of the trepidation I ought to. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happily snuggled, ever.
It’s not that the bed I’ve slept in my whole life was uncomfortable. It was fine. But on my own, it’s always a little too cold. Grant’s bed though, it’s like sleeping on a summer cloud. And although the night was all heated air, this morning is fresh and birdsong comes from an open window.
I’ve never lived outside of London. At the Southwark compound if you heard birds it would be pigeons plodding around on a roof. Here there’re the chirps and fluting warbles of little feathered critters.
At my waist the cover that held me secure moves.
Not a cover. A hand. Grant’s palm sweeps down my body, light but unmistakably possessive. To my knee, pause, then slowly back up.
A test maybe? I don’t flinch. I can’t even bring myself to tense up. Honestly, my body tries to get more, shifting slightly under his touch to continue the caress once he stills.
I open my eyes to find Grant watching me, a serious, tender expression on his face in the creamy morning light spilling into the room. It picks out the silver in his sideburns and reveals a tiny divot on his cheek. A small scar maybe. How would it feel under my fingers? And how did he get it?
My kingpin is a finely crafted puzzle box, and I want to explore him until I understand every facet.
Wait, he’s notmine. That’s ridiculous.
I should be aware by now, after twenty-one years, no one wants me for myself. Or not for long. David Bree-Fogg is just the latest in a long line of people who judged me insufficient. No doubt the kingpin will too, once he gets to know me. All I can do is desperately guard my heart until I leave and hope this day of being his isn’t too memorable.
Grant brushes a strand of hair off my face and leans in to press a kiss to my mouth and whatever I was thinking about dissolves. It’s a soft kiss. No tongues or any hint of the filthy sexy things he did last night.
It should be weird, or unnerving. But his grey eyes are so familiar, it’s like coming home. I like himway too much. He is a dangerous kingpin twice my age and I’m falling for him like a penny tossed from the Eiffel tower.
I am going to Australia at the end of this day. I have to, before he tires of me.
“I need to go to the loo,” I stammer. I have to get space.
He nods his permission and I almost fall out of bed with relief.
The bathroom is classic luxury and my heartbeat slows. Pristine black and white tiles are warm on my bare feet, chrome fittings gleam, and the morning light is a caress on my skin. There’s a claw foot bath and a walk-in shower so big I’ve seen smaller bedrooms. I breathe in eucalyptus and sandalwood and it’s so clean and fresh this room is basically a magic relaxing spell.
I comb my fingers through my hair uselessly, until, with more chutzpah than usual, I open a couple of the cupboards and find some essentials in one of them, on a single shelf. Cleanser, moisturiser, a toothbrush and toothpaste. And, ah-ha! A hairbrush. All seemingly brand-new.
I wash my face and work out the knots from my hair until it is straightened out, even if my thoughts aren’t. Then I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I’m still wearing that white silk dress from the rehearsal. Or wedding. Whatever it was. The honourable kingpin didn’t undress me. Well, apart from tearing open said dress at the crotch, which gapes obscenely, revealing my knickers.
Even aside from the now grubby and ripped dress, I look different from usual. Haunted by my brother’s betrayal, yes. But also, there’s a new gleam of knowledge in my previously innocent eyes. My lips are reddened from kissing Grant. And—wait I didn’t see it before because my hair covered it. There’s a love bite on my neck. A dark pink oval mark.
I bring my fingers up to touch it, expecting a stab of pain, but none comes. The skin is still smooth but at some point last night the kingpin deliberately took advantage of my mindless pleasure to set a sign of his presence on my skin.
I suppose they fade after a few days like bruises, but this feels like a brand.
Twenty-four hours. I don’t know what time it is now, but at a guess there are about seventeen left?
Then I’m going to Australia, I remind myself. An interior design business, a house in the country with birds outside the window in the morning, and perhaps eventually someone to love me.
Because when your only family tries to have you assassinated, the signs are clear. You’re not loved.
But that love bite. My fingers gravitate back to it. Not loved maybe. Butowned.
And right now that feels… Good. Special. Grant chose to save me from the grim fate I didn’t realise I was stumbling towards. He selected me, even if it was just for his twisted game.
The kingpin is sitting up in bed when I return, a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose, all his focus on a tablet he’s reading from with a scowl. He’s like a sexy half-naked professor. All he needs are some dusty books and a stern voice about my assignment being due.
He looks up and brightens when he sees my face. Setting his glasses and tablet aside he smiles until his gaze drops to my dress. Then the scowl is back.
