Tarnished Tyrant - A Mafia Romance

Chapter 50 Episode 50

She forces a breath between her teeth. “I shielded Elise from alot… maybe too much. And now, I don’t know if this was agood idea. Making her work for some farmer in anothercountry? It sounds like something a wicked stepmother in agothic novel would do, doesn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t know much about wicked stepmothers,” I say.“But concerned older sisters who are doing their best? I have

I smirk. “Well, I’ve found her very… flexible.”

“Oh God,” she groans. “You’re making this a s*x joke.”

“Tell me to stop and I will,” I say.

She smiles, but doesn’t say anything. We both know she likesit just fine.

We’re halfway up the long road to the house when a figureleaps off the porch and starts jogging towards us. For a second,I don’t recognize who it is. A small person in baggy denim anda flannel shirt. But then I see the strawberry blonde hairswinging in a ponytail behind her.

“Elise?” Belle gasps, no doubt thinking the same thing I am.

What the hell did this farmer do to her?

Elise actually smiles as she approaches. A real smile, not asarcastic teen one. And then she honest-to-God waves.

Belle just blinks at her, dumbfounded. I have to break thesilence. “What’s going on?” I ask.

“Just waiting for you two. I’m done for today. Einar gave methese clothes.” She holds out her arms and smiles down onherself. “They’re his wife’s. And they’re easier to move inthan what I had on.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my sister?” Bellefinally manages.

At that, Elise rolls her eyes.

“There she is,” Belle says. “Good to know she’s still in theresomewhere.”

“God, you’re so embarrassing.” Elise walks past us towardsthe car, but there’s a hint of amusement in her expression.

Belle trails after her. “What did Einar have you doing?”

“Taking care of the animals. I fed the sheep and helped gatherthe eggs from the chicken coop.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a punishment. Why do yousound happy about that?” Belle asks.

Elise shrugs. “It was fun. The animals were cute. And Einarsays I can ride on some of the horses tomorrow. Apparently,his daughter used to help out on the farm, but she moved awaylast year. He’s not even mad about the fence; he’s just glad forthe help. Isn’t that cool?”

“Yeah, cool,” Belle says. But when she looks over at me, herjaw drops.

I just nod in agreement. Everything always works out if youmake it that way.

Right as we’re climbing into the car, I get a text from Arslan.It’s a single word: Done.

I spent the day f*****g a beautiful woman in the Icelandiccountryside while her teenaged sister finally ditched herattitude, all while Arslan was back in the States dishing outBratva justice on my behalf.

It’s always a good day to be me. But today especially, Iwouldn’t change a f*****g thing.

When I walk into the sitting room, Belle is curled up on thecouch with a blanket wrapped around her. There’s a book openin her lap, but I can tell she isn’t reading it.

At the sound of my voice, Belle closes the book and gives mean easy smile.

“She wanted a shower and an early bedtime. Can you believeit?” She chuckles and shakes her head. “Usually, she’s up untildawn and sleeping all day. But one day of manual labor andshe’s in bed by nine.”

“Seems like putting her to work was a good call.”

“Yeah, your good call,” she says.

“The farmer is the one who wanted her to work off the fence.”

Belle lowers her chin, giving me a dubious look. “And you’retrying to convince me you couldn’t talk the man out of it? Youcould have paid him off on the spot in cash. Or, more likely,intimidated him into apologizing to you for putting his fencewhere you wanted to park your car.”

I laugh. “Is that what you think of me?”

“It’s what I know of you,” she corrects. “But you agreed to hisconditions. You wanted Elise to work. Somehow, you knewwhat was best for her when I didn’t.” A cloud settles over herface, dimming her smile.

“It’s always easier to solve a problem when you’re on theoutside of it,” I say gruffly. “I’m not emotionally invested.”

“Because it’s my sister or because you’re never emotionallyinvested?”

“I learned early how to make decisions based on logic. Basedon what would serve me best.” I shrug. “My emotions don’tcontrol me. Only I control me.”

“Must be nice,” Belle scoffs. “I’m controlled by everything.My emotions, my sister’s emotions, the need for money andsecurity… Hell, I’m only awake right now because I can’t stopthinking about a donut.”

“Or a muffin,” she sighs. “Maybe a jam-filled pastry. Ooh, orice cream. Or chocolate.”

Her eyes are dreamy, focused on the middle distance like she’sstaring at a mirage of desserts floating before her eyes.

I snort. “Sugar. You want sugar.”

“I tried, but the kitchen closed early tonight.”

Belle blinks up at me, her hazel eyes a fitting shade of caramelbrown tonight. “And… it’s closed. There’s no one to make ordeliver food. Unless I want to change out of my pajamas andhunt down a bakery somewhere else, that’s all she wrote.”

“To be honest, I’m offended.”

Her face creases. “What? Why?”

“After everything we’ve been through,” I say, shaking myhead, “after everything you’ve seen… you really think alocked door can stop me?”

She bites her lip in a nervous smile. I stand and offer her myhand. “Come on.”

Even though no one in the building—in the world, really—hasthe authority to stop me from breaking into a kitchen Irightfully own, Belle still insists on whispering like a thief as Iunlock the door.

“Maybe we can still charge everything we take to the suite tabin the morning,” she says. “I’ll call and tell them what I took.Or maybe you can. Or—”

“Jesus Christ, woman. Get inside and grab whatever youwant.”

I flip on the lights. Belle scurries towards the industrial-sizedfreezers like a mouse caught in the act. A mouse in a verytantalizing silk pajama set, to be specific. The shorts are higharound her thighs, and I can’t stop staring at her tight assbeneath the shimmering fabric.

I told Belle my feelings don’t control me. But right now, thatfeels like a lie.

Because all I can think about doing is tearing that silk off herand devouring her right on the kitchen counter.

“Where are the bowls?” she asks, popping her head out frombehind the freezer door. “The ice cream tubs in here are huge.I just want a bowl. A little bowl. And then maybe a baggy oftoppings. Are there chocolate chips anywhere?”

I grab a metal rolling cart and wheel it into the walk-in. Then Istart loading it up. “We can take a gallon of vanilla and agallon of chocolate. Give me that whipped cream. Do you likechocolate syrup or caramel?”

“Nikolai! This is too much!”

“Both, then,” I say in answer to my own question as I add twojars of homemade sauce to the cart. Then I wheel the cart backinto the kitchen and head to the pantry.

“That’s enough,” Belle hisses. “Nikolai, c’mon!”

“I distinctly remember some longing talk of donuts andpastries and chocolate.”

“No, this is plenty. I’m fine.”

I whip around so fast that Belle runs into me. I wrap an armaround her waist and pull her tightly against my chest. Shegasps and looks up at me. Her lashes are long and curled, andthey bat against her cheeks with every blink.

“I own the damn hotel, Belle,” I remind her. “You can haveanything you want.”

She pulls her lower lip into her mouth. “Anything I want?”

She thinks about it for a long time, her eyes memorizing myface. I wonder if she’s thinking what I am. About how goodshe’d taste, how good she’d feel on my c**k right now.

But finally, she smiles. “I want pastries.”

I step back and wave her forward. “Then go get it.”

As she passes, I swat her ass, unable to resist. And aside froma playful warning look over her shoulder, Belle doesn’t seemto mind.

I’m not used to this s**t. I’m used to porn star moans andplastic-enhanced women trying desperately to give me whatthey think I want.

But this? Belle’s warm smile, her genuine trust? It feels…strangely good. I get the sense no one has taken care of her in

I like being the person who gets to.

Back in the suite, Belle moans as she bites into a cream-filleddonut. “This is so good it should be illegal.”

She has a bit of cream on her bottom lip. I reach out and swipeit off with my finger before sucking it into my own mouth. Hereyes widen and her cheeks flush, but she quickly takes anotherbite and lets out another moan.

“If you don’t quit making those sounds, I’m going to bejealous of a pastry.”

She laughs. “You should be. I’ve never, ever been so happy.So satisfied. This donut is filling me in ways that I’ve never—”