Seized by the Mafia King (London Mafia Bosses #9)

21. Willow

21

WILLOW

7 months later

I reach up to the top shelf, and my body complains. Swollen ankles. Gah. But I manage to grasp the special edition book and pull it down.

“Ohhh…” The girl’s eyes go wide as she accepts it.

“That’s the one with the black pages, too,” I tell her, and she gasps when she opens the hardback fantasy novel. Instead of black text on white, it’s white text on black, and it looks amazing.

Stroking the pages reverently, my customer’s eyes light up. “Thank you so much! I didn’t think I’d be able to find a copy.”

“You’re welcome.” I love to see that expression as someone finds just the right book. I remember how important books are and how losing yourself in a story can soothe any hurt.

I still read plenty, but it isn’t the necessary escape that it used to be. Not since Zane kidnapped me and made me his.

The girl pays for her book, and while I wrap and bag it, her gaze flicks to the jar on the counter. “Is that fudge?”

I pass over her treasure with a smile. “Yep. Want a piece?”

“It does look delicious,” she replies, which I take as a yes.

“It’s my favourite.” I open the jar and pull a piece of perfect, crumbly fudge and offer the open jar to the girl. I nibble the sweet treat, letting the creaminess melt in my mouth.

“That is divine,” she says with a little moan that makes me chuckle.

“It is pretty amazing. My husband brought me that—full of vanilla fudge—on the day I opened the bookshop, and each week he visits to fill it up with a different flavour.” I’d only mentioned in passing that I loved fudge, but nothing escapes Zane.

The girl puts her hand to her lips. “Really? That’s so romantic!”

I nod, because she’s right. Zane has taken time at every moment of our lives together to understand what I need and what I like, and to provide it. He knows everything about me, and he’s as good as his word. When he caught me after our chase through the woods, he said he’d love me forever, and seven months later, we’re more in love than we were on that first day.

He’s been steadfast, and in return, I am joyous in my pursuit of all the things that make him happy. I’m still working on the perfect blowjob—though Zane says every single one is better than the last—and I hope I will find more and more ways to drive him wild for the rest of our lives.

Zane Bethnal. My wedding gate crasher, my kidnapper, my husband. And now, my baby’s daddy. I cup the underside of my bump and stroke the top.

“Thank you so much for the book.” My customer peeks inside the paper bag and smiles again.

“Let me know if you like it. I’m always looking for new recs.” Knowing what my customers enjoy is crucial, and personal recommendations are useful for ensuring I’m stocking what people in Bethnal, and those who visit from other parts of London, want to read. And even more important is selecting and sourcing the perfect book for the London Mafia Smut Club.

Honestly though, it’s rarely a problem finding new favourites. One of the best bits of my job is the advance review copies. I get hardback editions or eBooks of my favourite authors’ books weeks before release, and store all the pre-order copies carefully for my customers. And I have a precious copy for myself, to read while Zane plays with the kids, or in snatches of time while my assistant manages the shop.

“I will! Good luck with…” She nods awkwardly. “Everything.”

I grin. “It’s alright. Yes, I am pregnant. Twenty-eight weeks.”

I’m carrying our first child, and even with the physical surprises like ankles the size of an elephant’s and being rather front heavy, I’m so, so happy. Over the moon, and incredibly proud to have Zane’s baby. He’s given me everything I could want, and far, far more than I ever thought I’d have: love.

There isn’t a day that goes past without Zane telling and showing me that he loves me in whispered words, possessive touches, or by making me lose my mind with pleasure.

“You’re so lucky,” she sighs, a look of longing taking over her face.

“You’re single?” And it’s a correct guess, because she nods.

“And that isn’t going to change. I never get evenings off work. I’m a nanny,” she explains.

No time off? “Your boss must be awful.”

A dreamy expression floats onto her face. “He is. And he isn’t.”

“Well, keep the faith. You’ll find someone, or they’ll find you. Maybe when you don’t expect it. That was certainly true for me.”

“Maybe.” And her voice is a bit sad.

“At least we have books,” I say comfortingly. “Book boyfriends are the best boyfriends.”

It isn’t exactly a lie. How would I know about real boyfriends? I’ve only ever had my perfect husband, who—while he doesn’t have bat wings—is everything I could wish.

“Men are better fictional, I guess.” She fiddles with the handle of the carrier bag.

“You know, the next in the series will be released in the new year.” I avoid answering. It’s not nice to gloat that you’re incandescently happily married. “Do you want me to pre-order it for you?”

She brightens. “Oh yeah! That would give me something to look forward to after Christmas. Yes, please. My name is Bella Harlow.”

She gives me a London address in King’s Cross, London, and I write it all down and make a mental note to ask Zane about the kingpin of that territory.

“Thanks! Happy Christmas!” Bella turns to the door with a cheery wave that seems forced.

“Hope you get what you want for Christmas!” I call after her.

She pauses. “Not much chance of that,” she says, almost to herself, then pastes on a smile. “Cross your fingers for me, and I can’t wait to see your baby when they arrive! I love babies.”

“I will,” I promise, then she’s gone.

A tentative “Hi,” turns my attention to my next customer. It’s hours later when I’ve served dozens more people looking for Christmas gifts. I close the shop late because some browsers can’t find the right thing, and I have to help them. But finally, I’m on my own in my dream bookstore.

When I first opened, I used to bring home a new book for Zane every day, at his insistence. He said he wanted to read all the books I’d read. He honestly prefers audiobooks though, and while he still asks for a weekly recommendation, I don’t bring him paperbacks anymore. And it’s fun to see him enjoying books he’s picked for himself, too. I’m pretty sure he has the highest audio subscription tier, and buys extra credits.

It doesn’t take long to deal with the money, and I’m finishing when the back of my neck prickles. I look up and see Zane in the doorway. He’s let himself in with his key, and is leaning against the inner frame, his tall form imposing despite his relaxed pose. My heart patters, just as it did when I first saw him.

He’s breathtakingly handsome, but instead of striding in to murder the man who would have kept me from him, he’s smiling softly.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask, smiling back.

“Last night. Tonight. The rest of our lives,” he replies in a low rasp that shivers up my spine.

I blush. Sex is different with a growing stomach, but I have to admit, from behind has advantages. And Zane is ravenous for my body—at least as much as usual, anyway—since I’ve been visibly pregnant.

He pushes off the door, hands still in his pockets and paces over to the counter where I’m sitting.

“Are you ready to go home, little bunny?” He phrases it as a gentle question, but I know it’s nothing of the sort. It’s a heated demand for my obedience.

Reaching for my coat and making my way to him, he takes it from my hands and holds it open for me to slide into. As he tucks it closed, he makes a rumbling sound in his chest like a big cat purring and strokes over my pregnant belly. “I’d love to bend you over that counter…”

“But you won’t because you don’t want me on my feet,” I finish for him in a sing-song voice, rolling my eyes. If I had my way, he would. It’s one of the many places Zane has taken me—frequently—but he won’t anymore. For now.

“Nope.” He shrugs in that arrogant way that I find hotter than I should. “You’re taking such good care of my son, being a good girl for me and not overstraining yourself. So I get to look after you . And that means getting you home and putting your feet up. And then…”

“And then?” A frisson goes through me at his words.

His chuckle is downright wicked. “Ah, well. Once you’re horizontal, that’s different, isn’t it? How are your cravings today? I was thinking we could make it the first time with chocolate…” He trails off and my imagination fills in delicious, filthy scenarios.

“Yes.” There’s never any other answer, except when it’s that game we both enjoy, of him being my big bad. My kidnapper. My dark pursuer. My dangerous kingpin.

He tilts my chin up with his fingers to receive his kiss. “Did I ever tell you how bleak life was before I found you?”

I whimper as he kisses me softly and teasingly.

“I can’t wait for us to have a child together.” He says each word between kisses. “To help them grow up into murderous mafia bosses and bossettes?—”

“Zane!” I splutter with laughter.

“Sorry.” His voice is laced with amusement. “Law-abiding, successful bookshop owners.” Another kiss, sweeter this time. “I’m looking forward to enjoying the gap between children when you can wear pretty summer dresses, and I’ll rail you over this counter and dozens of other places. And to getting you pregnant again. To spending my life loving and protecting you and our kids.”

“I love you so much.” I don’t have the words to express it like my husband does, but I feel it all the same.

“I fall in love with you more, every day.” Sliding his big hand over my throat, he holds me gently there. Secure. He’s got this power over me, but I trust him with anything. “Now, the wolf is going to take you home to eat , little bunny.”