“Yes, it’s not obvious why a group of mafias would call themselves a maths club.”
“It doesn’t add up,” I giggle.
“Do not start with that,” he says darkly.
I give him an innocent look. “What?”
“Callie.” It’s a warning.
“So why are these mafias known as the maths club?” I ask, curious.
He shakes his head tiredly. “Something about needing a front for not being a mafia? I wasn’t listening, to be honest.”
“Why maths, though?” I persist.
“Who knows? Why not literally anything else is a continued mystery to me. They could have gone for the matinee club—an afternoon performance at a theatre—but no, they want to sound like nerds. They even lean into it. There are mental arithmetic challenges to decide who gets to kill people.”
“Really?” That’s hilariously silly for something serious. “Who wins?”
“Angel. He ignores the maths, and just shoots the prisoner.”
I can’t help but laugh.
Reid gives me a half smile in return, and his hand brushes mine. It makes my heart pound.
We stop outside a swish London hotel, and as we get out, I see that the entrance has been draped with ivy andthose big pink flowers—peonies—and I don’t think I can do this. But Reid has no time for any of my nerves or doubts about my dress—or its contents. He ushers me into the hotel, and when we enter through another flowered archway, I have to hold back a gasp. The room is decorated to look like a fairy grotto, with ferns, and flowers, and tiny lights strung around. There’s a band—I’m not sure if that’s what it’s called—with violins and stuff, playing classical music, but… I recognise the tune. It’s a pop song, but played on musical instruments you’d see in an orchestra. It’s clever, and fun, and the people dancing are having a great time. They’re as stunning as the attention to detail on the plants and lights. There are dozens of people dressed like us, or far fancier. A couple of women have wings, and I spot one set of pointy ears, though mostly they’re just wearing amazing dresses that make mine look right at home.
“See, this is why that other boring dress wouldn’t do,” Reid tells me, blue eyes twinkling.
“Yeah,” I say faintly. I’m glad he made me accept this dress, even if I’m still a bit worried it might reveal me for being the little tart I am with him since his semen is all over it. He makes me reckless.
Reid puts an arm around my shoulders and drops a kiss on the top of my head.
It’s a casual sign of affection, and my stupid heart reads far too much into it. The dress, the sexy times, the way he’s been determined to have me care for his wound despite not needing it. Those things all have been nice, but that possessive arm and light kiss…
But on the other hand, he did say this arrangement was only for as long as it took him to heal.
Perhaps he does this all the time? Indulges and seducesa woman for a couple of weeks or so. That thought is unbearable.
“I can’t see any of the men I want to talk to. Would you like a drink, or to dance?” Reid murmurs in my ear.
My mouth drops open and I snap my head around to look up at him. “You’d dance with me?”
The corners of his eyes crease with mirth. “I don’t promise not to step on your toes.”
But he’s already guiding me towards the dance floor, and drawing me into his arms, old-school style, with his hand in mine and he’s put my other hand on his shoulder. Not his bad arm, I notice, and the reason for that becomes obvious when after only a few steps, he dips me down, holding onto my waist.
A giggle bursts out of me, and when he brings me back up, my captor is grinning as much as I am. His eyes are shining.
“You cheat,” I mutter. “I thought you wouldn’t be able to dance.”
“I picked up a couple of things along the way,” he admits dryly, then spins me under his arm. And when he pulls me into him again, I realise I’m having the best time. Not because I’ve always secretly wanted to come to one of these really beautiful events and wear a dress like this that makes me feel like a princess who has finally been found.
No. I’m so happy because I have my gorgeous, handsome, grumpy kidnapper with me.
And then a snarling man in black leather taps Reid on the shoulder and glares at him.
Oh. No.
