8. Chloe
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHLOE
NOW
Confused doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling right now.
Every word out of Kingston’s mouth is more insane than the last, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t make sense of anything that’s happened since he took me from the hospital.
I’m desperate to talk to Camilla, or really anyone that isn’t the man moving around the kitchen stacking dishes into the dishwasher while I force myself to eat the grilled cheese he made me.
It’s delicious, and on any normal day I would have probably eaten it in three bites. But it’s not every day that your dad’s best friend turned enemy tells you he bought a mansion for you.
Not only that, but it was how casually he dropped the bomb, like spending that kind of money on someone you haven’t seen in a decade is the sanest thing in the world.
I take a few more bites before pushing the plate across the counter, unable to force myself to eat another bite.
Kingston frowns down at the half-eaten sandwich but doesn’t comment, instead lifting it to his own lips and finishing the half I left without a word.
This is all so…domestic. Like everything that’s happening is part of our everyday routine, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Something on your mind, Mama?”
I suck in a breath at the nickname on his lips. Will I ever get used to him calling me that? “About a million things,” I admit.
He drops his elbows to the counter and leans forward. “Go on then.”
I open my mouth but snap it shut again, because I honestly don’t know where to start. “Did you bring me here to be your maid?”
The words tumble out before I can catch them, but it’s as good a question as any because the alternative is inconceivable.
Kingston chuckles, his eyes creasing at the corners in a way they didn’t a decade ago. “Fuck no. You’re here because you’re mine, and I want to give you the life you’ve always dreamed of.”
“And what exactly is the life I’ve always dreamed of?”
For the last ten years I’ve had one goal.
Survive.
It’s been so damn long since I’ve allowed myself to want anything, let alone imagine a life where survival wasn’t my number one priority.
There was a time I wanted the picture-perfect family with the future underboss of the Lombardi family, but now?
Now I just want to be happy.
I want to be safe.
It would be nice to not spend the rest of my days looking over my shoulder, analyzing every perceived threat.
Kingston watches me, his dark eyes moving over my face as he considers the question I’ve just asked. “A life where you’re safe. Loved. Free to follow any path you choose for yourself.”
My eyes fall closed, and for just a second, I let myself consider his answer. I think about what a life here could be like, how it would feel to take what he’s offering and run with it.
But even with the safety he offers, there’s something missing.
Or more accurately, someone.
Multiple someones, actually.
I groan internally at the realization.
This is quite the mess I’ve made for myself.
“I can’t spend the rest of my life locked up in this house, King.
” I force my eyes to meet his, my heart beating so hard I can barely breathe through the thumping in my chest. “What happens when you travel for work? I stay here and wait for you? Alone? That’s not a life, Kingston.
That’s leaving one cage for a gilded one. ”
“You’re not a prisoner here,” he snaps.
“Aren’t I?” I raise a brow, slipping from the stool to leave the kitchen. I need to put some distance between us to remind myself why I can’t accept the pretty offer he’s laying out in front of me. “Would you mind taking me to the airport? I’d love to get back to New York by tonight.”
He growls, and I don’t hear him approach until it’s too late.
His hand clamps around my shoulder, spinning me so quickly I’d likely fall if it weren’t for his hold on me, and a moment later my back hits the wall beside the doorway.
Kingston’s hard body presses into mine, stealing the air from my lungs for a whole new reason.
The last time we were together, I was in no place to be entertaining the idea of another man. Not physically, at least. But that doesn’t mean my feelings for him didn’t grow in those weeks.
It’s hard not to fall for a ruthless man who cares for you through the hardest days of your existence with tenderness and never-ending patience.
The days I couldn’t get out of bed because my grief was so debilitating. The way he fed me every meal by hand just to make sure I ate. And how he reminded me that despite losing everyone I loved in a matter of days, it didn’t mean I’d never love again.
But this is different.
He’s not looking at me like I’m fragile or as if I’m about to fall apart.
He’s looking at me like I’m his next meal and he can’t wait to devour me.
I try to break away from his intense gaze, but rough fingers grip my chin, forcing me to look up at his towering form.
He’s at least a foot taller than me, making my neck ache from the angle it takes to hold his eyes.
“It’s not safe for you to leave right now,” he murmurs, his breath whispering across my cheek.
“And when will it be safe?” I hiss. “Tomorrow? Next week? A year from now?”
“Once my ring is on your finger and you share my name. Only then will it be safe for you to leave the property.”