Mayfair and Westminster are totally distractedcomparing knife scars on their arms, having to remove parts of their complicated leather costumes to see them.
“What?!” His wife widens her eyes innocently. “That’s a shocking thing to say!”
“It’s also the truth.”
“I didn’t claim it wasn’t. But what if you scare her away and I can’t get her to come and read smutty monster romances with us because you went in too hard?” His wife pats his chest playfully.
Callie laughs, and even though it’s not for me, it’s such a lovely sound.
“No fear, I’ll try your monster books. I’ll even watch the movie.”
“Ohhh you like movies? We’ve done some really fun multi-format binges, with each of us taking a different version, and then comparing notes. I’m Jessa, by the way.” Jessa leans in and takes Callie’s arm and says conspiratorially, “Come and meet the rest of the London Mafia Smut Club.”
Callie hesitates and glances up at me.
I’d prefer to keep her at my side, but it’s better if she doesn’t hear all the mafia business I need to discuss. I nod and reluctantly let her go. “Have fun. Call me if you need me, and I’ll come and find you later.”
“Eeee!” Jessa squeals. “Let’s tell Lina. She’s going to be happy there’s a new mafia wife.”
“Oh I’m not his wife!” Callie protests. But when she checks with me, there’s a hint of longing in it.
That’s sweet. She’ll find out soon enough. But not here. I just give her a wink, and a half smile.
“Not yet,” I murmur as Jessa drags Callie away, chatting about books
“Fiancée? Girlfriend?” Lambeth raises one eyebrow curiously.
I continue to look after Callie as she’s swallowed into the crowd. “She doesn’t know it, but yeah. Both.”
“You know, the London Mafia Syndicate does have guidelines about kidnap,” Lambeth says insincerely.
“I’m aware. She’s living safely at her own house.” I fold my arms. “No kidnap.”
Lambeth makes a sceptical noise. “Why do I think that’s not the full story.”
“Because you’re fucking nosey,” I snap. That “friends” thing didn’t last long. Or maybe it did? Because Lambeth just seems amused by my outburst.
“This is all very cute,” Edmonton says quietly. “But what does this mean for the marriage to consolidate the tie to Loughton?”
“I’m not doing it.” That’s part of why I wanted to meet with the other interested parties.
Edmonton swears colourfully in Russian, and I don’t blame him. Combining this troublesome closest Essex neighbour with my London mafia makes sense, but I didn’t want to do it before because Loughton’s daughter is so young. Now I have a stronger reason.
I’m in love with Callie. The thought of being with anyone who isn’t her physically hurts.
“Look, this is serious.” Edmonton’s brow is furrowed. His territory is almost as near to Essex as mine. “I don’t have to tell you that, but Loughton is damaged and messy. They’ll retaliate for the death of their leader, and a wedding might mend the treaty.”
“Did you not listen? He has a wife now.” This comes from Lambeth, who looks at Edmonton like he’s crazy.
“What? Are congratulations in order?” Westminsterturns back to us, clearly having been distracted by comparing scars with Mayfair.
“For fuck’s sake, and you didn’t invite us to the wedding, Woodford?” grumbles Mayfair. “Lina likes weddings. Says they’re inspiring for her writing.”
Westminster smirks. “You’re not inspiration enough for your author wife?”
“Inspiring enough to have more children than you,” Mayfair shoots back.
“I wasn’t suggesting Woodford marry into Loughton, but I think someone should,” Edmonton manages to slide in his rebuttal to Lambeth.
