Page 6 of The Mafia Bachelor

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair in frustration. The gesture returns my attention to how big his hands are, how touchable his hair is, and the strength in his shoulders even when it’s not in use.

“I’m forty years old, and my mother is a menace,” he says with affectionate irritation. “She’s been on at me to provide her with a grandchild or six. I’ve been focused on the business of the mafia, especially since Dad retired. I don’t have time for dating. But with my dad’s declining health…”

“You decided to get married?” I say when he doesn’t continue.

His beautiful mouth twists like he tasted a lemon. “More I gave in. I promised when I was twenty that if I wasn’t married by the time I was forty, I would let my mother choose my bride.”

I gape. “Why would you agree to that?”

“Because when you’re twenty, forty seems a lifetime away.” He smiles wryly, and I’m suddenly very aware of how much older he is. Twenty was only two years ago for me. It was twenty for him. He’s almost twice my age. “I thought I’d meet the right person years before now. Or at least someone I could tolerate. It was the stupid agreement of a twenty-year-old who thinks he’ll never grow up.” He shakes his head. “Or thinks he has infinite time to get to this problem. But I’ll be forty-one in a couple of months’ time, and my promise has been collected.”

“But you’re the kingpin. You could just refuse? Is it legal? Is there a contract? If she made you sign something when you were young, it could have been under duress.” My mind whirrs. Maybe I can be useful to him. I could fix this. “I can look through it for you?”

He laughs softly. “You haven’t met my mother. There’s nothing written down, and she won’t give in. She’s waited twenty years. She’d sooner murder me than lose this chance.”

“Oh. She feels strongly then? My parents never seem to feel strongly about anything. Maybe just enough to grumble, but not to…” I don’t know why I’m saying this. I must have a death wish. “Change, or take a risk.”

“My mother is the opposite. And to be honest, my father’s illness has made me more aware that life isn’t forever.” There’s a flash of bleakness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry about your father.” It’s such a helpless thing to say. For all their wealth and power, even the Archway mafia can’t escape time.

“You’d think a mafia boss wouldn’t need reminding that life is short.” He looks at me intently.

I nod, but I don’t understand. Not really.

“My mother promised to arrange everything. She said we’d whittle down to a reasonable number, and I’d just have to choose one. A baby or two, a couple of years, and then I’d have done my duty.”

“Oh.” This is how the rich and notorious live, I guess?

“I agreed, and now she’s gone crazy. She has a whole process planned out, a contest. And I’m concerned that she might have candidates who aren’t in it for the right reasons. That’s where you come in.” His green eyes gleam.

“Me?” I still can’t believe this. “I pretend that I’m a candidate, and instead help you avoid marriage?” He said I needed to win, implying we’ll get married, but that’s clearly absurd.

“Exactly.”

“But how do I get a place in the competition?”

“Don’t worry about that,” he says smoothly. “I’ll arrange it. I’m the prize, after all.” There’s a hint of weariness as well as grim humour in that statement.

“What exactly will this involve?” I ask nervously.

“There won’t be anything you’re not capable of. Now, do we have a deal?”

A shimmer goes down my spine. Something in his expression is so feral. Wild. It’s as though he’s cut all the dozens of leashes that hold him down to being civilised.

I take a deep breath. “You’ll pay me? As a proper job?”

“Of course. We’ll say you’re my legal advisor, and you can have a salary of…” He pauses, as though he really doesn’t know about such triflingly mundane things, then names a figure that makes my head spin.

“A year?”

“A month.” He smiles, and it’s so savage that despite his neat suit and the fact it’s not cold, I shiver.

But it’s a job. And I’m desperate.

“Okay.” I hold out my hand to shake his, but when he takes it, he brings it to his lips, his green eyes gleaming as he views me through long, sooty lashes, his head bowed. The kiss he places on my knuckles shudders all the way up my arm and then down my spine, pooling heat between my legs.

A deal with the Devil of Archway.