“Put on my shirt.” Grabbing it up, I hold it out to her. It’s not quite a suggestion. “You’re mine now, and I want to see my bunny wearing my clothes.”
Confusion and perhaps concern flit across her face. “But my jeans…”
I sigh. She just doesn’t get it. Yet.
“Since you refused to bring anything with you?—”
“That is not?—”
“I’ll buy you something new. Or you can spend as much of my money as you like with my credit card. But for now, arms up,” I direct her.
Slowly, she obeys, and I slide my shirt over her head. It comes down to her knees, and I have to turn the cuffs up repeatedly so her hands aren’t swamped.
Some part of me relaxes, seeing her like this. Hair messy from my touch, cheeks pink, my seed between her legs, and finally—finally—in my house.
I take her little hand in my much bigger one, and lead her into the sun-filled kitchen, then lift her onto a stool to sit at the island and make her lunch.
A-kitten-has-no-name finds us, and purrs when Nina picks her up and pets her. I question Nina about what she likes to eat, and we end up with chunky slices of bread, fancy cheese, olives, and a colourful salad with lashings of dressing.
As she eats, she casts worried glances at me from under her eyelashes. I lean against the marble countertop and wait for her to tell me what’s the matter.
I’m just feeding the kitten when Nina fidgets.
“I should go,” she says, voice full of reluctance.
Ahh, this is awkward.
I’m not allowing that. She’s mine now.
“Why do you want to leave, Bunny?” I say, as gently as I can, giving the kitten a final stroke then straightening to look down at Nina. I raise one eyebrow in challenge.
“Because…” Nina swallows, and tilts her chin up. “Places to go. People to kill. You know how it is.”
The tension in my heart eases. She’s bluffing. Trying to be casual when this is anything but.
“Your job isn’t finished here, BunnytheKiller.”
She twists her fingers in my shirt. “About that. I have a small confession.”
“Good, so do I.” Perhaps I’ll tell her I’m obsessed with her. “What’s yours?”
“I’m not a hitman. Or an assassin. And before you sent me a gun, I had never even touched one.”
“I’m stunned,” I say deadpan. “Had no idea.”
A smile plays around her mouth.
“You’re a good girl to tell me.”
She presses her lips together, as though struggling. “But I still have a job.”
“About that, I have a proposition for you.” Whatever she wants to do, I will create a role for it. If it’sbe my beautiful wife and have my children, all the better. I wouldn’t even worry if it were be an assassin. I could figure that out for her.
She blinks. “But I need to go home and reassure my brother that I’m not dead.”
“He doesn’t think that.”
“I’m pretty sure he’ll be worried.”
