Page 13 of Hide Little Traitor

This is all so…domestic. Like everything that’s happening is part of our everyday routine, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Something on your mind, Mama?”

I suck in a breath at the nickname on his lips. Will I ever get used to him calling me that? “About a million things,” I admit.

He drops his elbows to the counter and leans forward. “Go on then.”

I open my mouth but snap it shut again, because I honestly don’t know where to start. “Did you bring me here to be your maid?”

The words tumble out before I can catch them, but it’s as good a question as any because the alternative is inconceivable.

Kingston chuckles, his eyes creasing at the corners in a way they didn’t a decade ago. “Fuck no. You’re here because you’re mine, and I want to give you the life you’ve always dreamed of.”

“And what exactly is the life I’ve always dreamed of?”

For the last ten years I’ve had one goal.

Survive.

It’s been so damn long since I’ve allowed myself to want anything, let alone imagine a life where survival wasn’t my number one priority.

There was a time I wanted the picture-perfect family with the future underboss of the Lombardi family, but now?

Now I just want to be happy.

I want to be safe.

It would be nice to not spend the rest of my days looking over my shoulder, analyzing every perceived threat.

Kingston watches me, his dark eyes moving over my face as he considers the question I’ve just asked. “A life where you’re safe. Loved. Free to follow any path you choose for yourself.”

My eyes fall closed, and for just a second, I let myself consider his answer. I think about what a life here could be like, how it would feel to take what he’s offering and run with it.

But even with the safety he offers, there’s something missing.

Or more accurately, someone.

Multiple someones, actually.

I groan internally at the realization.

This is quite the mess I’ve made for myself.

“I can’t spend the rest of my life locked up in this house, King.” I force my eyes to meet his, my heart beating so hard I can barely breathe through the thumping in my chest. “What happens when you travel for work? I stay here and wait for you? Alone? That’s not a life, Kingston. That’s leaving one cage for a gilded one.”

“You’re not a prisoner here,” he snaps.

“Aren’t I?” I raise a brow, slipping from the stool to leave the kitchen. I need to put some distance between us to remind myself why I can’t accept the pretty offer he’s laying out in front of me. “Would you mind taking me to the airport? I’d love to get back to New York by tonight.”

He growls, and I don’t hear him approach until it’s too late.

His hand clamps around my shoulder, spinning me so quickly I’d likely fall if it weren’t for his hold on me, and a moment later my back hits the wall beside the doorway.

Kingston’s hard body presses into mine, stealing the air from my lungs for a whole new reason.

The last time we were together, I was in no place to be entertaining the idea of another man. Not physically, at least. But that doesn’t mean my feelings for him didn’t grow in those weeks.

It’s hard not to fall for a ruthless man who cares for you through the hardest days of your existence with tenderness and never-ending patience.