Page 369 of Don’t Say Mafia

I frowned as though she’d said something slightly inconvenient, not completely ridiculous. “Why not?”

“‘Why not’?” she repeated incredulously. “Jagger⁠—”

I raised one brow and leaned in closer. “You said you still love me. You already promised you’re not leaving me. This is just the follow-up.”

Her lips parted, then pressed shut, then parted again as she struggled to decide which words to let out first. “That’s not—” She dragged both hands through her hair. “We haven’t even discussed that you’re in the mafia,” she whispered.

I sighed. “Rule number one of the group, Eden . . . you don’t say mafia.”

Before she could argue, I reached into the center console, pulled out the cuffs we kept in these vehicles, and snapped one bracelet around her left wrist. The other went around my right.

Click. Locked.

Slowly, very slowly, she lifted her hand, staring at the metal linking us together. Her expression was pure disbelief. “You just handcuffed me again.”

I grinned. “I’ve found in my line of work that it’s efficient for problem-solving.”

“You—” She gestured helplessly at the cuff, like the correct words might appear if she stared at it long enough. “You cannot just handcuff someone and drag them into a chapel!”

“Sure I can,” I said pleasantly. “Watch.”

Her jaw dropped. “Jagger.”

“Hmm?”

“This is kidnapping.”

“Technically,” I said thoughtfully, opening my door, “it’s a romantic gesture. Shall we go?”

She made a strangled noise. “You are insane.”

“Probably.”

Her eyes were doing a rapid blinking thing. She was definitely still in shock. “I’ve clearly lost my mind,” she said flatly. “I need to see a therapist.”

I tilted my head. “Why?”

“Because I’m actually considering marrying you.”

“You can go after we’re married,” I told her, my grin widening as I reached for the door handle, then paused. Eden was halfway across the seat, clearly expecting me to drag her out with the cuff, but her blouse was still hanging open from earlier, and the lace of her bra was completely visible.

I sighed.

“What?” she asked warily.

“Hold still.”

Before she could argue, I reached across her and pulled the edges of her blouse together.

Her eyes widened immediately. “Jagger⁠—”

“Relax,” I said calmly.

I quickly threaded the loose ties through the buttons that had come undone, tugging the fabric closed so it covered her properly. My knuckles brushed her ribs as I worked, and she went very still.

“There,” I said, smoothing the front once to make sure nothing was gaping. “Now we can go.”

I opened my door and stepped out. Before she could protest, I slid one arm under her knees and lifted her out of the seat. She let out a small yelp as her free arm flew around my neck.