Accidentally Kidnapping the Mafia Boss (Accidentally Kidnapping)

1. Millie

1

MILLIE

This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done for my brother, and that includes when I cut his hair because he said he wanted it shorter, and he ended up looking like he had a cartoon hedgehog camping on his head. Thankfully, that grew out. Unfortunately, he’s not ten years old now, and I need someone who’s good at cutting debt, not hair.

Admittedly, Noah didn’t say he wanted to be handcuffed, bundled into my car, and removed from London. But the cuffs are furry, so they won’t hurt him.

My brother will be furious that they’re pink though.

Taking a deep breath, I check everything is as ready as it’s going to be. I’ve left the car door open, and I’m behind the back exit of the pub.

Noah leaves his bar work job at this time, and I come and meet him and walk him home when I’m worried if I’m not there he’ll decide to go to a casino instead. That’s every night now, unless I’m working. But it’s only a few streets to the apartment we share so when he sees my car, he’s going to know something is up.

I don’t want to go into the pub to get him. I really cannot risk seeing Noah’s boss and drooling all over him. Again.

Finn Kilburn might have movie-star good looks, a smooth Irish accent, and billions in the bank, but he’s scary. He’s drug-laced hot chocolate, so divine you wouldn’t even care as you slipped into the darkness.

And the one time we met, I turned into a zombie. Must eat brains … Well. Not that exactly. His brain is not what I’d like to wrap my mouth around, not least because it’s terrifyingly sharp. He’s known in London as the Playboy Kingpin of Kilburn, but he clearly goes after what he wants. That inspired this intervention I’m doing with my brother, actually. I could tell he assumed I’d be another notch on his bedpost and all his intoxicating energy was focused on getting me into a place where I would inevitably submit to anything he wanted.

And I could feel the tug. If I conceded, I knew I’d be lost. He’d take me home, and I’d never recover. I’d be obsessed with him for life.

I was so torn at that moment, because I wanted to do as he said and forget all my responsibilities.

Then it occurred to me: if I could get Noah away, somewhere out of London, perhaps I could channel that mesmerising green-eyed, suited, charismatic Irish-kingpin energy and get my brother on the straight and narrow again.

Hence, I am staging a Kingpin Inspired Intervention of Life Logistics. I’m not sure I’ve got that acronym right yet, but kidnap doesn’t sound great either.

I ping Noah a message that I’m outside, then wait, slipping my phone back into my pocket and readying the pink furry handcuffs.

There’s a set of two steps from the door, and I’m to the side, so when it finally opens and my heart makes a bid to quit this plan the rest of me is enacting, via my throat, all I get is a sense of height. He feels even taller than usual.

My little brother.

I give him a shove as he pauses, no doubt confused to see my car, and not me.

He stumbles, and in a second I’ve grabbed one of his hands—he’s bigger in the dark somehow—and then the other and yanked it behind him and into the cuffs.

Finn .

For a moment all my instincts say this isn’t my brother, and instead is the scary and gorgeous kingpin. But that’s crazy, part of the illusions of seeing Finn Kilburn for the last week, and feeling myself being watched.

I push the thought away.

“It’s Millie,” I whisper. “It’s alright.”

Then I shove him into the back seat of the car, where his torso hits the springy cushions and he lets out an “Ooof”. He goes in easily. Of course he does. He’s my brother, and he knows I won’t hurt him.

But then he’s rolling over and kicking out.

OMG how does he have so many long legs? Did he transform into a spider while I wasn’t watching?

“Just trust me,” I say panickily. I shove his feet into the car, repeatedly, squeaking with frustration and slamming the door behind him.

Noah is going to be so angry with me.

Whelp.

I rush around but as soon as I’m in the front seat, he’s already sitting up and flicking the handle.

“It’s got the child lock on,” I tell him, and start the engine. “You can’t get out.”

I drive off, my heart hammering.

Noah doesn’t say anything, but I hear a deep sigh. A glance in the rear-view mirror reveals his head is bowed so I can’t see his face because it’s in the shadows.

“I’m really sorry.”

This gets a grunt.

Yeah. Definitely the pink handcuffs are the issue.

That and the abduction.

I steel myself. This is the right thing to do, even if it feels like yet another heavy responsibility that I’ve taken on for my family.

I wait for Noah’s outrage, but nothing comes. The silence is thick. Maybe it’s the knowledge that I’m doing something about my problems rather than allowing life to just happen, but for once, I don’t feel alone. This is way better than coming home to an empty apartment and microwaving a meal for one while Noah is out gambling. Though he’s being surly and silent, and there’ll be a confrontation when he discovers I’m taking him to our parents’ cottage, I have an unexpected warm blanket of confidence around my shoulders.

This will work out.

I think it went pretty well for my first kidnap.

“You don’t want to ask where we’re going?” I ask, aiming for a light tone.

No reply.

“Your gambling is out of hand, Noah. Sorry, but it is.” My voice wobbles and I channel my inner kingpin. I half expect a barrage of angry denials. But no. Nothing.

A grunt .

Another stupid grunt, and irritation flares in me. All my feckless brother gives me is a wordless answer that could be anything, or anyone. Honestly.

I roll my eyes as I turn my small car onto the motorway and head north.

Maybe when it’s light, and he sees the pink handcuffs, he’ll talk.

I sigh. “It’s a good thing I love you.”