Page 39 of The Mafia Bachelor

“It’s for the fund we started last year that helps previously displaced or migrant people who live in Archway to access any legal needs they might have.” He turns to my parents. “Our history includes several who made their homes away from where they were born, including my mother. And that job is why Brandon found and suggested her.”

I can’t breathe, as Sue tilts her head and glances between Kill and me like a bloodhound that has caught a scent.

“You’ve been so busy organising other things,” Kill adds blandly. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember it.” His eyes flick towards his father.

“Yes, it’s been a lot.” But Sue’s expression clearly says she knows something is up.

Somehow, we make it through main course. Apple pie and custard for dessert. Coffee and tea afterwards. Kill’s warm presence gets me through.

And his quick thinking.

Eventually, we’re gathered on the doorstep to wave goodbye, and the relief… The relief is bodily. We did it. Kill and I navigated a Sunday lunch with both our parents, and… It was okay?

No one died. No cats were let out of the bag, though a few were caught by their tails and stuffed back in before they could fully escape. None were run down or painted as retribution.

But Kill walking away, his green eyes flashing as he shoots a look at me over his shoulder before he disappears into the car? That wrenches my gut.

I miss him.

Hard as that meal was, I’d rather be by his side than anywhere else.

“Better make a cup of tea,” my mum says as they drive around the corner. “And then you have some explaining to do, young lady.”

“I could murder a cuppa.” I’ve used up a century of adrenaline since breakfast. I might never recover. I slump against the closed door and close my eyes.

Now for the worst part.

Kill is going to do this for the other girls who want to marry him. He’ll meet their families. He’ll sit and laugh at their tables, his eyes will dance and he’ll flirt. Maybe he’ll press his foot to other feet. And they’ll be in other mafias. More advantageous if Kill did decide to marry. By comparison, what do I have to offer? Slightly judgemental parents who are better than I thought at hiding their shock.

I know this is a job, but it doesn’t feel like that to me. It’s personal.

My heart sinks to the soles of my feet.

Ebbing through from the kitchen, there’s the low conversion of my parents.

“Avery! Tea’s ready!” my mum calls.

“On my way,” I lie.

An expensive car purrs outside, and I furrow my brow as a car door thuds, then the front door is thrown open without so much as a knock.

“Ah, there they are!” Kill says. “My father dropped his reading glasses.” He shows the glasses, clearly taken from his pocket.

My parents respond slowly from the kitchen, but in one step Kill has me in his arms and is kissing me, his lips warm and desperate, pent up with all the restraint of the past couple of hours.

Happiness explodes in me, but I barely have time to melt into him before he’s drawn away.

“Thank you for keeping them safe for me,” he says loudly, and returns the glasses to his pocket. “And thank you again for lunch, Mrs Morgan.”

My lips tingle, my heartbeat has kicked up, wild. I have the insane urge to throw myself at Kill and beg him to take me with him.

“You did brilliantly.” He cups the back of my head and presses a brief, hard kiss to my forehead, then is gone.

16

KILLIAN

When I finally see Avery waiting for me on the plane to Ireland, it’s all worthwhile. This godforsaken competition, the time I spent carving a new “tattoo” into the back of one of Islington’s men after he was caught extorting one of the shops that’s on our border, the fact I’ve been so busy I haven’t followed Avery at all. Even the arguments I’ve had from my dad because he’s noticed he has a minder.