Page 25 of The Mafia Bachelor

“That was great!” she enthuses.

“You did well,” Kill says before sliding his gaze to me. “Are you okay?” He doesn’t let go of my hand for another second, and I look up at him. I’m simultaneously so cross with him for doing that, scaring me, and everyone else, and also absolutely desperate to dive into his arms and have him hold me.

“It was paint!” And I’m not sure if I’m furious with him, or just elated to be alive.

“Yep.” He squeezes my hand tight, then turns away to where the remaining girls are emerging from their hiding places, and the cars they got into, and the men are rising from the “dead”. “Ladies, let me introduce your attackers, my friends Rotherhithe, Hampstead, and Canary Wharf.” He points to three of the men around us. “And their teams. Gentlemen, thank you for your help.”

“No problem.” Rotherhithe straightens his lapels and nods happily. “That was a lot of fun.”

“Agreed,” says Hampstead.

Jemma’s eyes gleam.

“We should do regular training sessions like this,” muses Canary Wharf, inspecting the red paint on his arm.

“I train my men, don’t know about you,” Kill says dryly.

“Yeah, but it’d be better as groups like this,” Rotherhithe points out.

The conversation disintegrates into banter about when and whether they’ll have another paint gun and trauma session, and I just gape. The other girls are either similarly shocked, giggling with relief, or wiping away tears as they try to get themselves together. Jemma is laughing with Hampstead about something.

Kill is watching me out of the corner of his eye, I can tell.

“Right, that’s it,” he announces. “I appreciate your time, and I owe you. Now clear off, we have a plane to catch.”

There’s good natured grumbling about the party being broken up, but in just a few minutes, all the men who aren’t Kill’s have gone.

“What about the other girls?” I gesture towards the cars that have already sped off.

“They weren’t wife material,” he says mildly. “They’ll be well looked after. Safe, and compensated, don’t worry.”

I’m only partially comforted. It was close. So close. If I hadn’t seen that the men were using paint guns it could have been me leaving, out of the competition. And I don’t know how I feel about that.

Even with the reminder of the deadly serious nature of being associated with the Archway mafia, I want to be here. I want to be with Kill.

“Right.” Kill smiles, and it’s positively wicked, his green eyes sparkling. “Ready for your treat?”

9

KILLIAN

After a civilised flight, that most of us slept through on the plane’s full beds, we arrive at a luxury island resort only a few minutes from the small airfield where we land. Private and discreet, it belongs to one of the London Mafia Syndicate, and it’s a leafy green tropical paradise. The women gasp and coo over the stunning pool, the white sand of the beach beyond, and the pink drinks with cocktail umbrellas and little nibbles.

Someone pushes a glass of champagne into my hand, but I do nothing more than press the cold condensation to my cheek, and watch Avery.

“As an apology for Killian’s terrible treatment of you, there will be a spa and beach day for you to enjoy,” my mother announces.

My dad snorts, and I hide my smile, since this entire thing was planned by her. I just arranged for some of my friends to turn up. It was her idea to scare the shit out of everyone.

Avery held her own, though. I’m proud of her.

And I’m certainly not going to complain about seeing my girl in a bikini.

“All spa treatments are at your disposal,” my mam continues. “I do recommend the seaweed baths, as the seaweed is especially imported from Ireland. But there are also hot stones, and…”

I tune out, until the end.

“And there’ll be a candlelit dinner under the stars on the beach for the girl who showed the most resilience today.”