Page 7 of His to Keep (Reluctant Vows #6)

G io

When we were kids and had to share a bathroom, Matteo drove me nuts by hogging the shower every morning.

Vain as hell from the first time he caught a girl checking out his pretty face, my brother used a hundred different products to make himself look and smell good.

As up his own ass as he is, he never took this long in the shower.

Eilidh’s been in there for forty-five minutes and counting.

I think she’s trying to set some kind of record.

If she doesn’t get out soon, I’m going to find the stopcock and turn the water off.

After the first twenty minutes, I went to check on her under the pretense of bringing her a pair of my sweatpants and a t-shirt to wear.

Although I knew she’ll need the clothes, that wasn’t my primary motivation in going to see how she was doing.

I worried she might not be okay with what happened between us, but she seemed fine when she yelled at me for interrupting her.

Though she said she didn’t regret us fucking, I’m not sure I believe her.

The awful thought occurs to me that something bad might have happened to her when she was Jason Henry’s prisoner.

I should have pressed her on why she’s not a virgin.

She was just fifteen when she was taken, so I doubt she slept with someone before that.

That means she lost her virginity under Jason’s watch.

I’m worried one of his thugs forced himself on her.

If Eilidh’s innocence was taken from her like that, I should have been more careful with her.

I guess there’s no point in beating myself up until I know the truth.

Assuming Eilidh doesn’t plan to stay in the shower for the rest of the day, I decide to make breakfast. I didn’t expect to be here for more than a couple of days, so there isn’t much to choose from.

Usually, I like to start the day with something healthy, like granola, but that’s not an option.

The fridge and larder are stocked with the bare essentials, so I take out some eggs, bacon, and bread.

Before I start cooking, I send a message to Danny, asking him to buy some more food. Although I want to get out of here as soon as possible, I’d like to be prepared in case we need to stay here for a few days.

I take a couple of pans from the cupboard by the stove.

The kitchen is basic, but I don’t need anything fancy to make a decent breakfast. Turning on two of the burners at a high heat, I put six strips of bacon in the frying pan, then drop a little butter into the saucepan.

As it’s melting, Eilidh comes into the room.

Her hair is wet from the shower and her lithe body is swamped by the clothes I left for her.

She pads, barefoot, across the room and takes a seat at the kitchen island opposite me.

For a moment she says nothing, watching as I crack the eggs straight into the pan. A piece of shell drops in and I quickly retrieve it. I guess I should have cracked the eggs into a bowl first and whisked them, but instead, I move them around the pan until the yolks and white are thoroughly mixed.

“So,” Eilidh says, as I turn the heat down under the eggs to stop them cooking too fast. “I’m thinking we’ll want names that reflect your heritage and mine, so if we have a daughter, it’ll be Ginevra Morag, and a son can be Murray Giuseppe.”

I shake my head. “Those are awful names.”

Eilidh’s mouth drops open as she covers her stomach with her hands. “Oh, poor baby, don’t you listen to nasty Daddy.”

I know she’s trying to provoke a reaction, but I’m not sure what she wants from me.

“Do you need the morning-after pill?” I ask, in case that’s what she’s hinting at.

“No, I’ve got an implant.” She doesn’t elaborate about how or why she has birth control, but I’m relieved she’s protected. It was irresponsible of me not to check before fucking her.

“So, what was all that baby stuff about?”

“Nothing. Just thinking about our future.” Eilidh offers me a saccharin smile.

I return my attention to cooking breakfast, but my sharp-clawed little kitten isn’t done yet.

“So, where will we spend our lifetime of marital bliss? Do you have a house for us with a pretty garden and a white picket fence, or do you intend to drag me to some fortified Mafia lair, a converted nuclear bunker, perhaps?”

Removing the eggs, which are now done, from the heat, I turn to her. “What are you trying to achieve here, kitten?”

“Nothing.” She bats her eyelashes in feigned innocence. “Just trying to get a sense of what our future will be like, since you seem to think we’re going to be married.”

“We are going to be married.”

“We’ll see.” There’s a challenging gleam in her eye. “But I’d love to know what you think our life will be like.”

“I haven’t thought about it,” I admit. Beyond taking Eilidh home to New York with me, I don’t have a plan.

After what she’s been through, I want to involve her in decisions about where we live, when we have kids, and how she spends her time.

The one thing she gets no say in is that we will be married.

“You haven’t thought about it,” Eilidh scoffs. “And here I was thinking you were the man with all the answers. You’re the one who steamed into my life and decided you had some claim on me, after all.”

I’m distracted from responding to her bullshit when my phone, which is lying on the kitchen counter, pings. Eilidh snatches it before I can and reads the message visible on the lock screen.

“It’s from Danny.” She looks up at me. “Who’s Danny?”

“He drove the car last night.” I don’t tell her anything else.

She doesn’t need to know his entire resume.

I lean across the counter and grab the phone out of Eilidh’s hand.

The notification has disappeared from the screen, so I open my messaging app and read what he sent.

“I’m getting the messages. Does the girl want anything?

” I rub my chin thoughtfully. “Getting what messages?”

Eilidh rolls her eyes. “It means he’s buying groceries.”

“So why didn’t he say that?”

“I assume Danny is Scottish,” Eilidh says.

“Yeah.”

“So, a Scottish man used a Scottish phrase in Scotland. Imagine that.” Vitriol drips from her tone.

Bowing low, I peer up at her. “My apologies for being a big, dumb American, your highness.” In the time I’ve been in Scotland, I’ve come to understand a lot of the different words and phrases they use here, but getting the messages was new to me.

Eilidh sighs. “I don’t think you’re dumb, just supremely annoying.”

I grin, not hating that I’m getting under her skin. “So, do you need Danny to pick anything up for you?”

“Yeah, some leggings, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of trainers.”

“Trainers. Those are sneakers, right?”

“Right.”

“See. No translation required.”

Eilidh shakes her head. “I already told you I don’t think you’re dumb. Ask him to get me the smallest adult size for the clothes and a seven for the trainers. Oh, and I’ll probably need a jacket too.”

“Sure.” I tap out a quick reply to Danny, listing everything she asked for. “Anything else?”

“If he can find a bakery that sells school cake, I’d love a piece.”

“School cake?” I check because I’ve never heard of it.

“Yeah, sponge, white icing, sprinkles. It’s…” Eilidh does a chef’s kiss gesture. “Tell him to get you a piece. You could do with something to sweeten you up.”

“Why would I need cake when I get so much sweetness from you?”

“Ha-ha,” Eilidh laughs without a trace of humor. “So, back to this marriage business. What’s the point?”

Considering she was raised by the head of a major criminal organization, you would think she would understand why marriage to a man like me is necessary. My guess is she knows the answer, but wants to poke at me a little more.

“The point is to ensure you’re protected.”

Realizing the bacon is burning on one side, I grab a fork, the only utensil I can find, and flip it over.

“Buy me a Rottweiler and a Glock and I’ll protect myself,” Eilidh says.

I can’t help grinning. When I agreed to marry Eilidh, I expected to have to be patient with my delicate, broken bride.

Although being gentle doesn’t come naturally to me, I was prepared to make some effort to help repair Eilidh’s shattered psyche.

Instead, I find myself on the receiving end of a sassy attitude.

I enjoy her fierceness. It’s clear to me now why my brothers love to spar verbally with their wives.

A fiery spirit makes a relationship more interesting.

“You won’t need a dog and a gun if you marry me. My name will protect you.”

Eilidh snorts derisively. “Jasmine Henry knew your name, and she wasn’t impressed by it.”

She must have been playing it cool with Eilidh because Jasmine Henry practically creamed herself when she heard I wanted to meet her brother.

Forming a partnership with my family would have elevated the status of the Drummond organization.

It seems they’ve opted to join Semion Barevsky in the gutter instead.

“Wait until we get back to New York, then you’ll understand what my name means.

” If I’m honest, I’ve only just realized how proud I am of my family name.

Before I came to Scotland, I’d grown disillusioned with my life as a Volante.

I’d never embraced Mafia life like my brothers have.

Now that I’ve had some time away from them, I’m ready to return to the fold.

“Okay,” Eilidh says, her tone more measured now. “Suppose I accept I’ll be safer with your ring on my finger.”

“You will be.”

She purses her lips in irritation at my interruption. “What do you get out of this arrangement, Gio?”

“The warm fuzzy feeling of giving a damsel in distress her happy ending.” I blow out a breath as Eilidh glares at me. There’s no point in bullshitting her. “I get to prove myself to my family.”