Page 35 of The Mafia Bachelor

“You know the correct way to say mafia is the Italian way. Mar-fia,” interrupts Violet. “Because the word originates from the Sicilian⁠—”

“Yes, but that ruins the joke because Brits say maff-fia, which almost sounds like the start of the word maths.” Jessa rolls her eyes.

“That’s ridiculous.” Violet gives Jessa a superior look.

“No, what’s ridiculous is that they,” Jessa sweeps an arm to encompass the room, “Went along with it to protect him and help him get his girl.”

“Utterly pointless, of course. I already knew he was a mafia boss.” Adi shrugs happily. “And love him anyway.”

“And that’s why we call this the London Maths Club, and make maths jokes.” Jessa spreads her hands in presentation.

“Those are jokes?” Callie smiles impishly and the tall, silver haired man next to her growls and pulls her to him.

“Most of us can count and add up,” Canary Wharf says dryly. “Except Rotherhithe.”

“I am not the one who shoots first and asks questions later.” The big Russian shakes his head carelessly, seemingly unaffected by the insult. “That’s Angel.”

“What’s Killian like when he’s not with his family?” asks Katy, a bit simpering.

I open my mouth to reply, but quickly shut it again. I’m not supposed to know, am I?

“Archway’s colder than frost on winter grass,” says Rotherhithe.

I blink, and can’t help but slide my gaze over to Kill. That’s not how he’s seemed to me? He always has humour at the edge of his face, and something soft even as his words are harsh.

“Remember that time he carved six-six-six into the chest of the priest Blackfen brought in?” Westminster muses. “Leaning into the whole Devil of Archway thing.”

“Worked on him. Just not as well on you lot,” Kill mutters.

“A priest?” Violet sounds horrified.

“Yes.” And there is something cold in his face now, a fragment of the person he uses to protect his territory, and protect himself, I realise. “He liked that.”

“Oh.” Violet’s expression makes it clear she doesn’t approve, but Kill doesn’t explain.

And I find that I trust that Kill had good reason, but I hate talking about him. I hate Violet being close to him.

“I do like a strong man.” Katy picks some lint from Kill’s sleeve, laughing, and I can’t bring myself to pretend I don’t care.

Anger and jealousy burst up my torso. I want to claw her eyes out for even thinking about getting pregnant by Kill. He’s mine.

I want him. I’m in love with him.

Shock follows the realisation, and conversation continues around me as I try to process it.

I don’t want anyone else marrying Kill. I don’t want anyone else touching him, or kissing him. If someone is going to do kidnapping, it could easily be me. If I thought I’d manage it, I’d push him into the back of a car and speed off with him to… somewhere…and not let him go until he agreed to marry me.

“You okay?” Jemma asks quietly, looking at me with concern, and on the other side of me, Jessa notices too.

“I…” I didn’t mean to make it so obvious.

And, no. I’m not okay. I can’t do this.

“I feel a bit unwell,” I lie. “I might go home.”

“What is it?” Kill didn’t seem to be listening, but suddenly his green eyes are focused on me like a beam of forest light.

“Nothing, I’m⁠—”