Page 148 of He Should Be Mine

I turn just enough to meet his gaze. “You won’t. You’ll be proud of me.”

“I already am.”

The front door of Carlo’s house yanks open even though I’m still a few hundred feet away. Molly comes flying out. He runs to me and jumps up into my arms.

I catch him easily and hold his warm weight against my chest. I press him in close and inhale his scent. He feels like home and everything I have ever wanted.

“You’re alive!” he exclaims.

Then his lips press against mine. He kisses me with hunger, and so much love that I can taste it.

“Does this mean you are the Ajello heir now?” he asks breathlessly, in between frantic kisses.

“Yes,” I manage to slip out in a short gap between devouring my boy.

Suddenly, bewilderingly, Molly is gone. He scrambles out of my arms and steps back.

“Shit!” he swears as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry.” He looks around the empty, leafy, residential London street we are standing in as if there are eyes everywhere. “I don’t think anyone saw.”

I step forward. Repairing the gap that has formed between us. My arm snakes around his waist and I pull him to me. All the way. Making his body flush against mine. He yelps a little, but he doesn’t resist.

He stares up at me with wide, sapphire eyes.

“I don’t care if the entire world saw,” I say. “I am proud you are mine.”

His eyebrows rise and his jaw drops open. I seize the opportunity to kiss him again. He melts at the touch of my lips. His arms wrap around the back of my neck.

I’m kissing my Molly in the bright summer sunlight.

Life is perfect.

Chapter forty

Dario

Three Months Later

Awinter storm is lashing against the windows. Rain is running down the thick glass in pretty rivulets. The clouds are thick and gray. The garden is looking a little windswept.

Inside the house, everything is cozy and warm. It really feels like home now.

It is far smaller than I would have chosen for a house worthy of being Molly’s home. But he was right, as usual. I like the coziness.

We are in Mayfair, two streets away from Carlo. We have five bedrooms and four reception rooms. Molly insists it isn’t small at all. I still think it’s not the palace he deserves. But he loves it. And so do I.

I step into the dining room. Molly is setting the table. Leaning over it and fiddling happily with the pretty silverware and the table decorations. He is wearing a slinky, satin cocktail dress. Sapphire blue to match his eyes.

I step up behind him and put my hands on his slender waist.

“Seeing you bent over like this is giving me ideas,” I say.

He chuckles. “Well, our guests are about to arrive, so you’ll have to save those ideas for later.”

I let out a heavy, exaggerated sigh.

He straightens up and presses his back against me. I allow my arms to wrap all the way around him. My lips nuzzle against his neck. His hair is up, exposing his pale throat, so there is no earthly way I can resist.

He lets out a happy, contented sound.