“I’d love to,” I say too quickly, and I swear there’s something like relief in Dante’s eyes. “But I don’t want to put us in unnecessary danger. You said?—”
“I did, but this bookshop is run by the wife of one of the London Maths Club. It’s perfectly safe.”
“Oh, well. Thank you then. I should go and change—” I scramble eagerly to my feet.
“Don’t. You’re perfect as you are.”
“I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your mafia colleagues.” I indicate my shorts and T-shirt. I’m not even in a cute dress as I was yesterday.
“You could never,” he replies simply, and is this what it is to be accepted? After my mother clicking her tongue and sighing at my appearance all my life, it’s more than a bit unexpected that Dante—a man who wears a suit like he was born in it—is fine with me looking casual.
“Do you still have those examples of your work on your phone?” he continues.
“Oh, oh. Yeah.” I blush because the memory that pops up for those pictures is when I showed them to him then tried to put my tongue down his throat until he managed to peel me off forcibly like I was an octopus with tentacles covered in glue.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite that bad, but for my first kiss and first seduction attempt, it was pretty mortifying.
“Good. Give them to me.”
What?
16
DANTE
“What do you want them for?” she asks hesitantly.
“Do you trust me?” Because I think if I tell her I want to show them to people who know about commissioning art for books that she’ll freak out and refuse.
She pouts. “Yes.”
Pure joy at that reluctant admission surges in my bloodstream. That’s a good first step towards love, right?
“Send them over. Come on.” I allow myself to put my hand at the base of her spine as I guide her out to the car. It’s got additional armour plating, so slightly smaller inside, and I’m a big guy, so Ruby is close to me in the back as we’re driven across London to the bookshop in Croydon, of all places. But Lily is the wife of the Croydon Kingpin, Kane Anderson, and I saw on the London Maths Club group chat that she’s holding an event, and anything Ruby might enjoy, I’ll provide.
She sends the images, and then asks me about my day. I find myself telling her, because she’s interested, and catches onto the politics of the London mafias quickly, remembering who’s Bratva, or Essex, or Italian. And I get out of her that she had a good time with Lucia, but she’s more eager to listen.
“What would you like your book budget to be?” I ask when I see we’re nearly there.
“Oh, I won’t buy anything. They’re sure to be really expensive. I’ve heard the Croydon bookshop make their own licensed special editions.” She shakes her head, but there’s longing in her voice.
“Mmm.” That won’t do. “What about a million?”
“For a million I could buy the whole bookshop!” she exclaims, laughing.
“You are underestimating how much Croydon likes to spoil his wife if you believe that. But it’s beside the point. Work with me here. Compromise and meet me in the middle. Half a million.”
“That’s like a lifetime book budget,” she protests, but her cheeks are pink.
“That could be arranged…” I wonder if she’d agree to stay married for a generous amount of book money?
Undying love would be preferable as a reason for her staying with me, but I’m not a good man. I am a man who will do anything to get what he wants.
“It’s too much.”
“What amountamI allowed to give my wife to treat herself?” I ask patiently.
She jolts at “my wife” as though it’s a new shock every time she hears it.
