I growl at the thought of any other man having her as his wife.
She’s mine.
“I did something bad,” she confesses.
“I understand.” Was it murder, I wonder idly? I’d be disappointed, I admit, because I’d prefer to have the privilege of killing anyone who upset my angel. I could lay the bodies of her enemies at her door, like an overgrown and homicidal pet cat.
“I stole from him,” she says in a tiny, guilty voice.
My laughter is inappropriate, and she blinks up at me.
“He tried to steal your life.” And he tried to take her fromme, though none of us knew it at the time.
She presses her lips together as she considers this.
I stroke her shoulders and frown. “Why Croydon?”
“I didn’t have anywhere to go.”
She fled across London, as far away from Waltham and their influence as she could, to the place that’s Waltham’s opposite. Notorious for being dangerous, rather than safe. A concrete jungle, not wooded parks and expensive gardens. Commercial and new and crass, the opposite of classy and ancient.
She ran, though she doesn’t know it, to me.
“What about friends? From university or school?” It unsettles me how close I was to not finding her.
“I don’t find it easy to make friends,” she confesses, almost too low to hear.
“What is wrong with people?” I snarl.
“Nothing.” Lily shakes her head. “It’s me. They like me, or tolerate me well enough when we’re in groups or they have to. But no one sticks around when it’s more than mildly inconvenient.”
And that steals my heart. There’s blood gushing into my chest cavity, because Lily deserves someone who will stay, and that person is going to be me. I will never leave her.
Or let her go.
“It’s the same for me,” I confess before I can think better of it.
“Really?” She peeks up at me, and I smooth my hand over her hair.
Nodding, I avoid telling her it’s justified with me. I don’t tell her that being a mafia boss is the loneliest job imaginable. I don’t say that people tolerate me because I’m powerful and ruthless. Ijust hold her, and will her to understand that she never has to be lonely again, because I will always,alwaysbe there for her.
Whether she can see me or not.
“Yes. And I don’t honestly care what you wear.” Nothing would be a great option in my mind. HR might not agree, but they’re disposable.
“I need clean clothes.”
Again, naked and in the shower seems a fine choice.
“And I really want this job,” she says earnestly. “I want to fit in. And I won’t in…” She leans back and plucks at her T-shirt, then her gaze snags on my sodden shirt. “Oh no. I’ve snotted all over your shirt.” She covers her mouth in horror, and I laugh. “I’ll pay for the cleaning.”
“You want to clean my clothes like my little wife?” I can’t help but tease, prising first one hand then the other from her face.
“Maybe?” she whispers.
And oh hell, I’ve managed this long with her close without getting a hard-on, but if she leaves openings like that we’ll have serious problems. I set her onto the seat next to me, at a safe distance.
“How about this: I’ll pay for your work clothes, but only if you don’t skimp on it. And I’ll sort out your account.” I have a way to fix that.
