Chapter 12 Dom #2
She lets out a squeal of excitement and runs her finger over the raised gold lettering on the cover.
“I knew it!” Lina crows.
“That is gorgeous!” Jessa peeks over from the other side of the table.
“The jealousy around here right now,” laughs Willow from the stage. “We should start the next auction lot so Richmond can have his thank-you kiss.”
Taggie blushes the cutest shade of pink and I grin. Hell yes, I’ll have a thank you. Maybe even take one tonight...
I swore I wouldn’t go to her room again, but as she cautiously puts the book down as the description for the next book begins, I know that’s a lie. I cannot stay away from her.
“Thank you.” She gives me a peck on the cheek.
Nice. Cute.
“Fuck it,” I growl, and pull her onto my lap. “That’s not enough.”
I take her lips greedily. She’s across my thighs, and her body is so slight and tiny—the doll that I call her—and my cock responds automatically. She’s everything. I kiss her with every bit of possessive feeling in me, and what’s baffling and wonderful is that she kisses me back.
Taggie lets out a little whimper and curls her fingers into my lapel, and I hold the back of her head and her waist, like if I let her go, she might fly away from me.
“I love you.” I don’t realise I’ve said it aloud, right into her mouth, until she says too and my heart takes flight.
I press my forehead to hers, my eyes closed.
Fuck. If this is faking, and reality is that Taggie doesn’t love me and won’t whisper those precious words, then I’ll stick with the charade. Reality can go fuck itself.
Over-fucking-rated.
We miss the entirety of the next auction lot, but by the time the third begins, I have Taggie comfortable on my lap, but thankfully not touching my hard-on, and have managed to stop mauling her.
She sneaks looks at her new special edition fantasy romance, one finger tracing over the dragons on the cover. But her hand remains on my chest, over my heart.
I wonder if she can feel it beating for her.
On stage, Felicity Brent is describing a book as old, and an OG romance, whatever that means.
“Oh...” Taggie presses her lips together.
“What is it?” I toy with Taggie’s curls.
“I think I know what it is! The book, that is,” she explains.
I nod. “Would you like it?”
“Felicity says it’s a first edition of the book that first got her into reading historical romance, and has a scene where they think two side characters have scandalously run off to Gretna Green in Scotland to be married.”
“I see.” But I don’t. Obviously, I don’t.
“I think it’s a first edition of Pride and Prejudice!” Her eyes sparkle and the excitement buzzes out of her. “How amazing is that!”
“Very,” I reply seriously.
She continues listening as Felicity finishes up, and the bidding begins.
I know what I’m going to do this time. What my love wants, she gets.
It costs me the amount of money people usually spend on a house to have that book—it turns out to be a set of three books—handed to Taggie when she jogs up to the stage in that gorgeous dress.
But when she sits back down on my lap without checking with me, as though this is just how we do things and we’re the kind of in love that means I’m her chair whenever she needs and I can kiss her neck as she unwraps the books I won and bought for her, I have never been happier.
I feel like a lion bringing an antelope to his lioness.
Her glee when she finds her guess was correct is better than any lucrative deal I’ve done. The way she reverently flicks the pages makes my heart light.
I love her with everything in me, so spending money on her feels right.
The following book is a copy of Lina’s debut, and Taggie is so excited to find that her new friend is a romance author that I buy that for her too.
“This book is responsible for the best blow job I’ve ever had.” Lambeth’s voice cuts through our curiosity about Lina’s book with his announcement of the next lot.
“Really?” someone calls.
“I said what I said.” Lambeth grins unrepentantly and winks at his wife, Jessa.
“Moisture damage isn’t acceptable in books you’re giving away,” Westminster says wryly.
“Did he stick his cock in it?” shouts a voice from the back of the room.
Lambeth laughs good-naturedly. “Okay, correction. This book inspired the best blow job I’ve ever had.”
Taggie giggles and blushes, catching my eye.
There’s fierce bidding, mainly from the mafia wives, but also from a few of the men.
“You’re not going to bid?” she says as Willow announces the end of the auction, and I stay silent.
I raise my eyebrows. “That would be for my pleasure.”
She looks even more confused.
“Little bambola.” I stroke her cheek. “I am all about your satisfaction. Every day, in every way.”
The next book is an exclusive advance copy of a fantasy series, that isn’t even a proper book but rather printed pages because it isn’t published yet.
Taggie listens with interest, but I don’t get the impression she’s as desperate as many of the other book-girl wives, who are exchanging passionate theories when they hear it’s the long-awaited finale to books that have been adapted for television.
“Do you want this one?” I ask softly, as the pitch ends.
“No.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t like the ending of the television series. I’m not convinced the books will be better.”
“Let’s start the bidding…” Lily trails off as Mortlake strides onto the stage and holds out his hand for the book.
“Sir.” Lily stands straight and looks him in the eyes. Croydon’s wife is braver than she appears. “You have to wait until the auction has finished.”
Mortlake doesn’t reply, just nodding, and leaving his palm up, as though still expecting the book.
“Do you want to bid?”
Another nod.
“Anyone else?” Lily asks, voice higher than usual.
“A hundred thousand,” Westminster calls.
Mortlake stares at him.
A single nod.
“Two hundred.” This from King’s Cross.
“Three.”
“Four.”
Mortlake glowers.
There’s total silence as he nods after every amount, until Lily shoves the book at him and says, “I think a million will do.”
He returns to his seat, and instead of opening his prize as everyone else has, he sets it on the table and crosses his arms.
It’s a good thing Taggie didn’t want that one.
“Will we never know what it was, do you think?” she whispers to me.
“No.” Mortlake is frankly disturbing, even for a Bratva.
But we win the next auction for the hockey romcom Taggie wants, and an advance review copy.
As the rest of the evening progresses, she unwraps book after book, with joy and disbelief, and I think, over and over, if I’d known you sooner, bambola, these would have been your birthday presents. Christmas presents. Every good thing that you missed from not having a father, I will give you now.
Seeing her unwrap special books, and know she’s special, fills my heart, because this isn’t fake. She is the sweet, unknowing antidote to everything bleak and dark in my life, and somehow I need to keep her with me.