I tilt my head back to stare into his eyes and don’t believe him for a second. “Nice try at evasion. If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to—”
“Good. I won’t.”
“But…?”
“What my mother thinks of you is of no concern to me.”
That’s not how you phrase good news. Got to admit, it stings a bit. I had hoped that she would become a fan and take my sides in arguments. Now my hopes for that rest with Agnes and Warren. And Scarface if he ever turns up. “So, the shopping trips are off then, I take it.”
He raises his eyebrows, confusion muddying his gaze.
“You told me once you introduced me to your mother, we could go shopping together and I could buy anything else I needed.”
His stare defocuses, resting somewhere in mid-air. “Yeah. She’s not much of a shopper. I don’t know what I was—”
“Liar. She told me all about her trips to Waiheke a minute after sitting down to lunch.”
“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think your father approves of me, either.”
The words strike home, but I can’t let him know that. Instead, I give him a playful slap on the shoulder, then another since he deserves it. “My father was impressed enough that I wound up here. Stop trying to downplay the absolute catastrophe I just made of things at lunch.”
“You didn’t make them. My mother is…”
“A hard woman to love,” Agnes says from behind me. “If she’s fighting with you, that’s a good sign. The only time she’s polite and willing to spend time on nonsensical activities is when she’s actively plotting against you. Thank goodness you’ve been spared that.”
Since the cook doesn’t have the slightest advantage to gain by lying, I believe her more than my darling fiancé. “Really?”
“Yes, really. It takes some getting used to, but you’ve probably won her over enough that she won’t cause any problems.”
Seems strange to me but then again, everything does. My idea of normal has undergone such destructive reconfiguring this week that I don’t know when things will ever seem stable.
Still, my voice is tentative as I ask, “You’re not disappointed in me?”
Micah kisses me for so long that Agnes disappears back into the kitchen. “You know I’m a big deal, right? A figurehead of organised crime and one of the leading lights in the syndicate?”
“Of course. And humble with it.”
“So,” he says, bumping his forehead against mine. “If you did disappoint me, do you think that’s the kind of thing I’d let slide?”
The words do spread salve over my recent burns. “I guess not, although…”
He arches an eyebrow with such severity that a shiver runs along my spine.
“You were in jail,” I whisper, wondering if I’m biting off more than I can chew. The words sounded like playful banter in my head but saying them aloud changes them to something more dangerous.
Oh, well. Can’t stop now.
I suck my lower lip into my mouth and shoot him an innocent expression from beneath lowered lashes. “So, perhaps you’re not the big mafioso kingpin you thought you were.”
Micah slides a hand around my neck with such slow menace that the next shiver freezes my spine rigid. He bends his head until his whispered words sidle straight into my ear. “Do you know what happens when good girls say bad things?”
It takes all my energy to shake my head from side to side.
“They end up spanked until they think twice in the future.”
His hand squeezes my neck, then slides along the curve of my shoulder, dropping to caress the length of my arm then rounding my hip to land atop my arse. He grips a handful, increasing the pressure until I can’t help but groan. When I wriggle, trying to break away, he releases me, but slides his hand under my skirt, then dips into the elastic of my underwear.
“Do you want to take it back?” he says, the words reverberating against the side of my neck. “I’ll give you one chance.”
