Page 149 of He Should Be Mine

“Dinner smells delicious,” I say.

“You have the caterers to thank for that. You know I still can’t cook for shit.”

“I love your cooking!” I insist.

And it’s true. I love every single thing Molly makes and does. Nevermind that his cooking really is coming on leaps and bounds. I’m happy he has found a hobby he enjoys.

Molly scoffs in my arms. “My cooking is terrible. All the sex we have been having is clearly frying your brain.”

I chuckle and pepper his neck with more kisses. “I’m not complaining.”

Molly laughs. A soft, joyous sound that makes my heart sing. It lets me know that everything, absolutely everything, was worth it. Molly is safe. He is mine. And now his laughs are carefree and truly happy. I have succeeded.

The doorbell rings.

Reluctantly, I release Molly and head for the front door. Hopefully, Molly will soon be comfortable with permanent staff and not just caterers and cleaners. In the meantime, I don’t mind playing butler.

I open the door. Carlo, Dante and Nicolo are huddled together on the steps, under the porch roof, away from the rain.

“You are all very punctual,” I say with only a little annoyance in my voice.

Nicolo huffs out a laugh. “Clearly you’ve never pissed Molly off by being late.”

I hide my smile, and step aside to let them in. I adore that Molly has these mobsters wrapped around his little finger.

We file into the dining room, where Molly greets them with cheek kisses and easy charm. He accepts their wine offerings with exaggerated gratitude and sparkly compliments, and within seconds, he has them laughing.

I sit back, quietly stunned by how easily he commands a room.

Soon, we are all seated. The caterers emerge from the kitchen and place the serving dishes on the table. Then they quietly slip away.

I open the wine and pour everyone a drink while Molly plates out the food. Conversation flows and everything is bright, warm and golden.

Life is good.

This is what I fought for.

Being the heir is not an easy job. It’s blood and compromise and responsibility layered with steel. But it is within my capabilities. It is in my blood. I was born for it.

The Don is pleased with my work. Most of the family appears to have accepted the transition of power. Everything has gone far smoother than I ever dared to dream.

I’ll never say it out loud, but I suspect it is Molly, and the power of love. It is a deeply soppy thought. But that doesn’t mean it’s not true.

“Hey Molly,” Carlo says, casually enough to raise my suspicions. “Can I bring someone over to meet you?”

My brows furrow. What is he playing at?

Molly’s blue eyes turn to me, seeking permission, and it sends a jolt of deep, primal satisfaction coiling through me. I’m trying hard not to be an ass. I don’t want to wrap Molly up in chains and control his every move. But I still like that his reflex is to ask.

“Who?” he asks Carlo.

“My best friend’s little brother. He’s like you. All girly femboy.”

I bristle. Molly flashes me a quick smile. He is not offended. And now that I have taken a breath, I can see he is right. There was no mocking derision in Carlo’s voice. Just a simple statement of fact.

“He could do with a friend. He doesn’t know anyone else like him.”

Molly’s kind-hearted smile is dazzling. “In that case, bring him over! I’d love someone to swap fashion ideas with!”