Page 13 of The Mafia Bachelor

There’s also a job contract in my email, for a more modest, starting salary type number, and a note that my bonuses will be paid externally.

I get both? That’s insane.

My job title is completely innocent. I’m a junior legal assistant. My direct manager is Mr K. Farrell.

I drift downstairs to grab coffee and breakfast, still in shock, I think. I might be for a while. Like the flu, Kill is difficult to get over.

He kissed me. He’s employed me.

I want to talk to him, but if I do, I’ll forfeit everything.

“Did you manage to find a job yesterday?” My mum asks as she’s wiping the counters at top speed as I enter the kitchen. She clearly thinks it’s unlikely. She doesn’t even look at me, and the places she’s cleaning are already perfectly clean, but that doesn’t stop her. My mum is a whirlwind. She almost never sits down and is happiest doing three things at once. “Were they impressed by your degree?” The scepticism bleeds into her tone. She’s of the opinion that school is overrated, and education a waste of time.

Almost as much as reading.

“They were, actually.” I can’t help but smile a bit as I remember Kill’s reaction to my CV.

“Didn’t give you a job, though?” My mum’s expression could be mistaken for sympathy, were her words not barbed.

“No, they did?” My voice goes up at the end. I really need coffee before this conversation, but my mum was awake at dawn and has no respect for anyone else’s schedule.

“Oh!” She pauses her cleaning to smile at me. “That’s great! What are you doing? When are you starting? Do you want breakfast beforehand?”

Oh nooo… I can’t go there, because Kill’s mother, Sue, was very clear. No contact outside of the competition.

“It’s mainly remote working,” I blurt out. “Just a day or two a week I need to be in the office.” But as soon as I say that, my mind is whirring, because with the amount that Kill has given me already, I could move out from home, and not have to face these questions. I won’t do that yet, because who knows when this ends. Though, I could at least afford to go to a coffee shop for a few hours to leave the house while I’m pretending to work. “I’ll go in to sign some things later,” I add, thinking of Paddington Station and the money that might be waiting there.

“Yes, get them pinned down. No zero hours contracts. Make sure…” I nod as she goes on, not needing much from me.

That day, I relive the kiss a thousand times. Every sexy, filthy, forbidden detail, until I’m crazy with wanting to know what would have happened next if we hadn’t been interrupted.

Probably nothing. He was probably just doing it to prove a point. Whereas it was the first time I’ve had a kiss that felt like something. Made me feel.

I want to contact Kill. I talk myself in and out of emailing him back about the job, or the money via Paddington Station. His generosity is so kind. But much as I’d like to say thank you, and can we meet, and I’d like to see you—not that last one, I wouldn’t admit that—the words of his mother echo in my head. She’d happily find an excuse to kick me off the competition, and contacting Kill outside of it would definitely count.

So I spend the week learning about Archway, and the other girls competing to be Kill’s bride, and make myself a little crazy wondering what the next “date” will be.

Because Kill’s one instruction was that I have to win.

And I can’t stop thinking how I want another kiss.

5

KILLIAN

The next date is to the shooting range in the basement of my main headquarters in London. The women are mostly in less formal dresses than last time, and I’m in my customary dark-grey suit rather than a dinner jacket. Avery tries to stay at the back of the crowd, but I see her anyway. My eyes are drawn to her as my mother explains the rules.

It’s been a long week. There was some stalking involved.

I discovered that Avery likes her coffee milky, chocolate pastries, and French fries with ketchup. It’s a good thing I’ve seen her since last time, because it means I can just about keep my growing obsession in check when she knows I’m watching her.

“This is a shooting competition. There will be four teams. Ring, Shamrock, Key, and Champagne. You’ve been allocated at random. Team Ring…” She rattles out names for each.

Avery is wearing the dress I had delivered to her. It’s a flowing dress which is snug enough over her top half to be both practical for shooting and very flattering. The leather boots finish the outfit perfectly, and her hair is loose around her shoulders. She looks perfectly edible, and her wearing the dress I gave her has a possessive monster in my chest purring.

Avery has been put with several of the more nervous women in team Key. They congregate together in their groups, and I stand back, my arms crossed. I have plans to unhinge this already brutal little event.

“Whichever group has the highest overall score gets to have a seven-course dinner with Killian.” My mother smiles smugly, and I tighten my lips over my teeth in response. “Cooked by our own chefs, upstairs in our dining room.”