Page 18 of The Mafia Bachelor

My mouth waters.

“These look really high calorie,” says Katy uncertainly.

Kill raises one eyebrow. “Is there a problem with the food I’m providing for you?” His voice is low and dangerous.

“Just where’s the rest of it,” Violet says with a false laugh. “No meat? I do love meat.”

There’s a hint of suggestiveness in her comment, and I shift uncomfortably.

“We’ll get to that.” Kill’s expression is grim though, not the sexy or light-hearted response she might have wanted.

I’m unfathomably reassured. I don’t like it when the other women flirt with Kill. I particularly don’t want him to flirt back. I refuse to examine that feeling, and instead, when Kill picks up his fork and scoops the whole of a bite of potato in one, I go to do the same. Unfortunately, I get snagged on watching him eat.

It’s an absurd thing to get fascinated by, but he’s oddly beautiful as he eats. His mouth, obviously. His lips are plush. And the black stubble on his cheeks invites my touch in the way that a big, scary wild cat does. He doesn’t look soft, but scratchy and textured. Compelling. And then there’s his neck, revealed by his open shirt collar. His throat… His Adam’s apple shouldn’t be sexy. Neither should the black tattoo lines that rise from his collar. I want to explore the texture of him with my fingers and… Yeah. My lips.

He’s the taste I’d like to have on my tongue, not anything of the expensive dinner we’re being fed.

“See something you’d like to eat?”

My heart skips as my chin jerks up to Kill’s eyeline. I let out a strangled sound.

Caught.

His eyes sparkle.

“Absolutely! I love potato cakes!” One of the other girls takes a gleeful mouthful.

“Yeah.” I don’t know what those are, but hey, it’s potato. It’s going to be delicious.

I’m right. They’re all the carbohydrate and fat and salty goodness.

I consume every bite with gusto and allow the conversation to continue around me. And if I catch Kill looking at my mouth and my cheeks heat? Well. I did the same to him.

There’s a meat course, and more tiny courses that are perfect mouthfuls, then the sweet course is even better. There’s raspberry sauce in a pretty swirl over the top, and a fancy mint leaf and icing sugar scattered over the surface. Kill calls it carrageen pudding, and says it’s made with seaweed, which is enough to put off some of the others. But it tastes like vanilla custard, or that wobbly dessert.

It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever eaten, and I take my time with it, savouring every bite. Until dinner is cleared away, and my stomach is heavy as I realise what is about to happen when Sue claps her hands.

The other women have been called into the room, and tension cuts in.

“Thank you for a lovely dinner, Killian. Now, who are you going to give roses to?” Sue asks meaningfully.

Kill accepts the roses with good grace. The girls who didn’t have dinner with Kill—I hope they got fed—are gathered in an awkward group in the corner.

Kill holds the bunch of roses up, and his eyes flick over them. “Hmm.”

He stands and prowls around the table.

My stomach turns over as he leans over Violet’s shoulder and gives her the first rose, and a tight-lipped smile.

Then he meets his mother’s gaze over Violet’s head as he straightens to his full—substantial—height and goes to the group of women waiting to the side, and gives Jemma a rose.

Ah. Right. I knew that.

The third goes to Katy.

Then a fourth is given to another girl. He gives out roses, one by one, and the girls squeal and thank him. One even throws her arms around him, gushing that she can’t wait to get to know him better.

I’m not nervous initially. But each rose allocated to another woman makes the food sit heavier in my stomach. He gave me the first rose that first night, and kissed me, but maybe he’s tired of me. Because if he saw me being ignorant, bad at using a gun, and not good at fancy food, that could have turned him off so much, he doesn’t think he can employ me anymore. I’m not good enough to even fake it with.