It’s for the best. Of course I’d like those books. I admire the design and I’d have enjoyed examining the way the typography was done, and considering how the images go together. But I don’t need them. I have Kane, and that’s all I really need.
“We’ll take a second set of those special editions, please.”
My jaw falls open and I make a sound like shocked squirrel.
“Of course, sir.” The assistant nods eagerly.
“No, that’s—” I begin.
“Make it three sets,” Kane interrupts me, voice like granite.
I splutter. “What?—”
“Four,” he says implacably. “The more you protest, the more collections of those expensive books I’m going to buy for you.”
“But—” My brain cannot compute. I knew Kane was unhinged, and a billionaire, but this is silly.
“Five.”
I shut up.
There’s a long silence and none of us move, like when someone from out-of-town walks into a bar in a Western movie.
Kane reaches over and pulls me into his side, nodding to the shop assistant. His hand smooths around my waist and settles on my lower stomach. He presses a kiss to my hair as I turn my face into his chest, the thick cotton of his shirt caressing my cheek. I’m overwhelmed.
“Good girl,” he murmurs when I remain quiet. “That’s it. Take what you deserve.”
My mind trips up on the worddeserve, but if I say anything I’m risking a sixth set of books, which I really cannot justify. The books are all wrapped in tissue paper and bagged like they’re precious gems.
“I adore spoiling you.” Kane presses a quick kiss to my temple then gathers up the silky rope handles of the bags and we head for the exit, me remaining tucked at his side. He’s shortened his stride, so we walk comfortably together. “Don’t attempt to deny me again, or you’ll find yourself tied to my bed until you scream.”
“I know, but…” It’s still difficult to articulate the unworthiness that persists. We step out into the street that’s bathed with sunshine.
“But nothing.” Kane nods to one of his men and we pause at the side of the road. His bodyguards are very subtle, although they’re always around to protect him, I rarely see them. And Kane has admitted they’re not security guards for the shopping centre. If I ask him something directly now, I get a direct answer. “Just say, thank you, Daddy.”
I huff with laughter. Who knows why that’s hot? But suddenly I’m squirming from all his innuendos, him being my baby’s daddy, and maybe that he’d be my daddy too. He certainly takes care of me in all the best ways. He’s done nothing but spoil me for a month.
“Thank you, Daddy. You know though, that I didn’t need all these books. I only need you. It’s too much money for you to spend…” I leave off the unspoken bit. Too much to spendon me.
“Angel,” he drawls. “I love you, but this is absurd. I bought you the whole bookstore for your birthday. This game is just that. A game. You can have all the books you want.”
“Youboughtthe bookstore?”
He shrugs. The armour-plated SUV pulls up and we slide into the back, piling the bags in with us. With the black leather seats and darkened glass, travelling through London with Kane is a different world from when I once ran across the city on foot, escaping my family.
As the car speeds us home, Kane twists me and drags me onto his lap, my knees on either side of his hips and my arse on his thighs. Between us there’s a lump of his erection, but apparently Kane is in no hurry to sate his physical desires. Or mine. I’m hot and needy between my legs.
Cupping my jaw, he looks into my eyes as though searching them. He seems as serious as the day two weeks ago when wewent shopping for rings. As sombre as when he slid the platinum band with diamonds and a large amethyst the same colour as his eyes onto my finger, and said hoarsely, “You’re really mine, now.”
And in return I could only squeak assent because my heart had expanded to fill every part of my chest and was spilling out from my throat and pressuring my clit from above.
“Happy birthday, Lily. Are you happy?”
“Yes.” It’s not even a question. The word bubbles up as naturally as the sigh of contentment and closing my eyes as he slides his fingers into my hair and slowly caresses my scalp.
“Do you trust me?” he says simply.
“Yes.” People would say I’ve lost my mind, falling for my stalker. But I do trust him. Entirely.
