Bit of a problem, since I’m a grumpy homicidal mafia boss. But for her, maybe I could be something else… Just forher.
Our plates aren’t fancy when I place them on the table. Salad on the side, and what amounts to cheese on toast. I sit opposite her and dig in, picking it up with my fingers, and she copies me.
“This is very informal. I didn’t think that was a London mafia boss’ style.” She takes the first bite as though the food might hurt her, then her eyes go wide as she chews.
“Good?”
She wordlessly takes another mouthful, then another, and I think that’s a yes. We stuff our faces with carbohydrates and fat and that tangy acidicness that makes the whole thing irresistible.
“Not what you get in Maldon?” I ask lightly.
“Huh, none of my family would lower themselves to eat something calledpoor. Never mind cook for themselves.”
“Missing out.” I finish eating only just before Willow.
“You wolfed that down, little bunny,” I tease. “I told you. Hungry work.”
She blushes prettily and for a second, I think she’s going to acknowledge the chemistry that fizzes between us.
“Boss,” a voice interrupts from behind me.
Fuck.
Willow looks across at Agombar, the manager of my affairs when I’m in Suffolk.
“Miss, your clothes have arrived.”
“My clothes?” She turns to me.
I’m not ready to give up this time with her and me relaxing, with my girl in my T-shirt, but like an idiot, the consequences of my own decisions are here.
So I rise and hold out my hand to her, and although I half expect her to ignore it, she slips her little fingers over mine, and doesn’t let go as I lead her through the house. I’m not sure what I’ll see when I throw open the doors to the ballroom, but Willow’s gasp is gratifying.
“What is this?” Her eyes flash white as she stares around the room, that’s full of racks of clothes.
“You needed something to wear,” I say. “A local boutique was happy to help.”
“Happy?” she echoes sceptically.
“Well paid.”
She shakes her head, but approaches the nearest rail, and picks up a top. “You did all this for me?”
“It’s only one shop, sorry.” We need to re-adjust her sense of what’s due to her. “We’ll try another tomorrow. You can tell me which, in fact. Or just order online with my credit card, but I know you needed clothes. Cute as you are in mine, they don’t fit that well.”
“What?” she splutters, looking up from where she’s trailing her hands over a rack of tops. “You’ll make another shop put its whole stock into your… What even is this room?”
“It’s a ballroom, and yes.”
“That’s silly.”
“It’s really not.” She deserves everything, but I can’t let her out of my sight just yet. We’ll get to that, but right now my need to see her, to possess her, is too raw. “I don’t hold many balls. None in fact. Perhaps this could be your permanent boutique?” I’m teasing, but I’m also not teasing. Would that make her happy?
She snorts and picks up a pair of blue-green heels and looks at them with a longing expression. “Even more ridiculous than giving me your credit card. I could spend a lot of money, you know?”
“I hope you will.” And I mean that. I’d like it if she finds all the ways my money and power can make delight and spoil her.
“A new wedding dress, Zane? Really?” She drifts to the rack of dresses and pulls out one that’s long white silk.
