I sigh.
“Because it feels more like I’m a deposit to ensure my brother pays up for the Witham territory,” she continues when I don’t respond.
And that’s when it hits me that though I’ve given this girl my heart, she doesn’t know me. Yet.
“I don’t need your brother’s money. I have plenty.”
“So why were you at the wedding, demanding payment?”
As it turned out, I was at the wedding to have my entire world rearranged by meeting my soulmate.
But I didn’t realise that until later. I told myself it was to ruin Witham’s nuptials and ensure he paid, but it wasn’t that either. It was because I couldn’t accept that shithead continuing to live after I saw what he’d done.
Despite my well-earned reputation for ruthlessness, it was an inconvenient sense of justice that brought me to her wedding, drew me to working with the London Mafia Syndicate, and even makes me play along with their absurd “maths” games. I walked out of an emergency meeting of the London Mafia Syndicate to be here. Admittedly, I would probably have left anyway, because although I now understand why a mafia boss would do something so stupid as pretend the Syndicate was a maths club to protect his wife from the truth, I’m better at killing than mental arithmetic and spreadsheets.
“I dislike the hurting of innocents,” I say eventually.
I saw far too much of that as a kid in the care system. I was lucky that the kingpin of Bethnal noticed me, and took me in. But that wasn’t the case for many, many others.
“Again, interesting logic, Bethnal. Is ruining my wedding not hurting me?”
“Not compared to going through with it.”
“Until I get home,” she mutters under her breath.
That’s better left unacknowledged, because will I let her go? I’m not sure I can.
“What would you usually be doing on a weekday morning?” I ask instead.
“Reading.” She shrugs. “Not many options available given my family,” she adds defensively.
“What’s your favourite book?” I need to know everything about Willow, and this is a good place to start: with a hobby she likes.
“There’s a mafia story I really like. The heroine is kidnapped by an enemy, and then helets her go.” Her gaze is fixed on the window, gazing out.
“That doesn’t sound exciting.”
Willow raises her eyebrows. “It’s a great ending for everyone.”
Not the ending I want for our story.
“I’m not much of a reader myself. I might skip that one. Unless it’s in audio?” I take her very literally to see what she comes back with.
“It’s a live-action movie,” she says tartly. “Complete with very realistic special effects.”
I smother a laugh. “Realistic huh. Do they include the part where she falls for her captor and he makes her come repeatedly, until she begs him to stop because it’s too good?”
“No. That bit gotcutout.”
“Edited. What a pity. It was in the book then.” God this is fun. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a woman’s company so much. “They always say the book is better than the movie. This proves it.”
Maybe despite our differences we can work this out…
I relax slightly as we turn past the gatehouse into my estate and make our way through the woods, along the twisting drive that leads to the house. We’ve found some common ground—she loves books and I’m willing to try whatever will please her—and we’re back safe in my territory.
“You know,” she continues thoughtfully, toying with one ugly ivory white shoe. “I was looking forward to the cake.”
“You like cake?”
