Page 5 of Malicious Marriage (Mafia Lords of Sin #9)

DEAN

“ Y ou don’t have a chef to do all of this?”

The paper bags filled with ingredients dropped off by Bobby sit on the center counter in Clover’s kitchen.

The label across some of the food items Clover unpacks is from a small store.

I'm sure Jack and I drove past it on the way here, but Bobby had insisted this was a delivery from their own caterer. I’m not sure I’d be happy paying a caterer who just orders from the local store.

At that point, it’s easier just to cut out the middleman.

“Not today,” Clover replies with a smile. “It’s her day off.”

“And the rest of your staff?”

Clover gave me a very brief tour of the home and patio while waiting for Bobby to sort out the issues with catering, and while this manor is truly a lovely home, it’s hard to ignore some very glaring absences.

Clover and Bobby seem to be the only two people on the property and for a manor this large, there should at least be a team of twenty keeping an eye on the place.

It would be rude of me to point that out since there’s a chance Clover’s security just takes a backseat approach and are watching quietly from places unknown.

It’s just… unusual. For a woman so full of smiles and life, this home feels empty.

No staff, no chef, not even a housekeeper bustling about. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think no one had lived here in months.

I keep these thoughts to myself. It’s reasonable to assume that Clover is simply very busy and doesn’t spend much time here.

Which would also explain the door we passed in the hallway that has come away from the hinges.

In my house, a repair like that would happen long before the hinges even warped, never mind reaching the full detached state I glimpsed on my way past. Again, something I will refrain from mentioning.

No good can come out of pointing out unimportant flaws when I’m a guest.

“Oh.” Clover shakes her head and puffs out her cheeks slightly as she stares at the array of ingredients in front of her. “Everyone has the day off. I think it’s good for morale. Plus, if I’m out enjoying the sun, then it’s only fair they do as well.”

“Understandable. That’s very kind.”

Clover waves one hand at me. “Hardly.”

“You don’t see it that way?”

She pauses with her hands on two ripe eggplants and grimaces slightly. “I don’t think treating people to a day off, something everyone is entitled to, should be celebrated. That’s all. It’s a normal thing to do and should be done much more often!”

Who am I to argue with that?

“Is there anything I can do to help?” It’s not in my nature to sit by and let someone else do all of the work, but as soon as I approach, Clover points at me with one of the eggplants.

“Don’t you dare. You’re my guest and I’m making lunch, so you just sit down and enjoy it.” Seconds after she speaks, a flush of pink creeps across her cheeks. “Which I mean in a completely respectful way, of course.”

I can’t keep a straight face and chuckle softly while sliding onto a bar stool resting up against the island counter. “I take no offense, Clover. It’s your house. Your rules.”

“Exactly!” She puffs her cheeks slightly and blows air upward, sending a few strands of her caramel brown hair drifting away from her hairline. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Cinnamon.”

“Damn, my entire recipe is ruined,” she declares with a cheeky smile. “Back to the drawing board!”

The warmth that exudes from Clover is extraordinary.

She talks like we’ve known each other for years while still having hints of nervousness.

It’s like her urge to make me feel at ease overwrites her anxiousness at befriending a stranger, and that creates such an alluring concoction of warmth.

It helps that she’s standing in front of me chopping up an array of vegetables to make me lunch.

I’m weak for acts of service.

“How long have you known Bobby?” I might not be permitted to help her cook, but I can definitely get to know her.

“Oh, wow…” She pauses with a knife in hand and pops a carefully sliced cube of red pepper into her mouth. “Years. More years than I can remember and way more than I deserve.”

“He strikes me as more of a friend than a bodyguard.”

She nods slowly, resuming her chopping. “He’s a few years older than me and he came to work with us as just a driver at first. He was always very good, and my father took such a liking to him that he got him all the security training he would ever need just so that he could drive me around.

Something I take credit for because not long after he started that training, his parents kicked him out, so I set him up in the pool house and kept it a secret until the better paychecks came through and he was able to afford his own place. ”

“You had to keep it a secret?”

Clover nods, adding an array of colorful chopped veg to a bowl and moving on to strips of chicken.

“If my father learned he was homeless, he would have viewed Bobby as irresponsible and never continued his training. But I liked Bobby and he was an excellent driver, so I was happy to help. When he got his first apartment, I helped him change his address in the records and he was golden.”

“You must really like him.” My gut pulls south at the thought. To do something like that speaks to Clover’s kindness, but she talks about him with such affection. Have I grown interested in a woman who’s already spoken for?

“I love him,” Clover replies with soft laughter. “He’s my best friend, although I often have to fight his husband for his attention. God forbid he doesn’t value his employer over his relationship, right?”

Husband? Oh . Bobby is not competition I need to worry about. “Terrible,” I agree. “Where is the loyalty?”

“Exactly!” She glances up at me with wide, sparkling eyes. “I knew you’d understand.”

“A hundred percent.”

“What about you and Jack?” She resumes her cooking, and while it’s difficult to sit here and do nothing when I badly want to help her, it’s the first time someone has cooked for me like this in a long time.

She’s acting with purpose, with me in mind even though she barely knows me, and her smile makes my insides feel all gooey and warm.

“Similar in terms of how long we’ve known each other.

Jack is ex-military and was actually at the same bar I was at when someone decided they didn’t like me very much and wanted to silence me.

A fight broke out, I got stabbed, and the next thing I know, Jack appeared.

He straight up flew across the bar to tackle this guy into the jukebox.

Saved my life, and I hired him on the spot. ”

“Damn!” Clover pauses everything and stares at me, open-mouthed. “I bet his pay must be amazing .”

“He thinks so.” I chuckle. “Although any time he mentions that time I saved your life , I know he’s haggling for a pay raise.”

“Which you, of course, have to oblige.” Clover adds the chicken to the veg and moves on to some cheese. “After all, he saved your life.”

“You and Jack will get on well,” I muse with playfully narrowed eyes.

“I respect a hustler.” She grins, glancing at me through her dark lashes.

She’s beautiful .

Clover isn’t wearing even a fraction of the makeup she wore to the party, but that changes nothing.

Her green eyes are as vibrant as gemstones in sunlight, and her plump, curvy body is as mouth watering as I remember.

Each time she smiles at me, I have to fight the urge to claim those plush, thick lips for myself.

Just one taste to see if they’re as soft and as sweet as they look.

I keep a very firm lid on these desires.

“Will anyone be joining us for lunch?” I ask, glancing casually over my shoulder. “Your father, perhaps?”

Clover’s hands tremble slightly as she crumbles the cheese over the salad and turns her back on me to rummage in the cupboard behind her. “No, just us.”

“Do you live alone?”

She grabs salad dressing from the top shelf, stretching up to reach it and grasping it before I have time to offer assistance. “Yes, sort of.” Turning back to face me, her smile isn’t as vibrant as before. “If I’m completely honest with you, Dean, it might not even be my house for much longer.”

“Oh?” My curiosity rises and a hundred reasons burst through my mind. Woodworms? Poor construction? Bad roof?

“You see…” Her attention returns to the salad and she very slowly stirs all the ingredients together.

“My father is dead. It’s my uncle who is the backbone of my family.

He put me in charge and at the time, I was excited.

But lately, the weight of his expectation is just…

crushing . Nothing I do is right in his eyes and we had a bout of bad luck. Really bad luck, actually.”

The way she speaks and the weight of her words tell me exactly where this is going before she gets there.

“And now I’m doing everything I can just to keep us afloat, but it's not enough.”

“Nothing tests a family like financial difficulties,” I say softly when she turns her back on me once more.

When she returns, she has two small bowls in hand and quickly spoons some of the salad into each.

“You’re not wrong. So part of the reason you found me crying was because that party was my last taste of the elite life.

And I don’t mean that in a pathetic way like I’ll miss caviar or the smothering crowds.

It just sort of struck me how final everything is, if that makes sense?

” She slides a bowl toward me with a silver fork and smiles, but it doesn’t reach her beautiful eyes.

“You never realize how constant something is in your life until it’s gone. ”

“I’m sorry,” is all I can think to say. “I can’t imagine how turbulent it must be in your situation. And my condolences about your father.”

Her smile is sad this time and she perches up on the stool next to me. “Four years ago, he passed. The trigger that started it all. It’s hard to even think of what life was like before he died. Everything just feels so…” She falls silent, searching for the right word.

“Heavy?” I offer around a mouthful of the salad, which itself is very tasty. It’s an explosion of fresh, sweet tastes in my mouth and I wolf down two more bites while she nods.

“Heavy, exactly. Speaking from experience?”

My turn. “To an extent. It’s not money worries that keep me awake at night but…

I definitely feel the weight of expectation.

These days, I feel like little more than a show pony backed into a corner because all anyone cares about when they look at me is who I can marry to make the family stronger, how long until I produce an heir because I’m pushing forty and it’s reckless to wait so long.

And if that’s not enough, my ex is actually pregnant, but she’s also the devil incarnate and not the kind of person I want to spend the rest of my life with. ”

“Oh, wow.” Clover chuckles. “That sounds… y’know, I’ll keep my money troubles. At least it’s singular and just me. You sound like you’re in a circus.”

“It feels like it. And no one wants to have a decent conversation anymore or focus on living life. It’s all about preparing for a future I will never see, keeping everyone else rich and happy. I feel aimless, like I’m being guided around by everyone else’s wants and nothing I feel matters.”

Until now. Until this beautiful, kind woman took time out of her day to entertain my surprise visit and make me lunch. It’s the most normal interaction I’ve had in years.

“Sorry,” I say after a few seconds. “I’m aware of how selfish and egotistical that sounds.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Clover replies, and she nudges her soft elbow against my forearm. “Everyone just wants to be seen. Heard. Feel safe. I think it’s natural. Money and power don’t stop you from being human.”

“You think?”

She nods and tilts her head so that her hair sweeps down from one shoulder and creates a warm curtain of golden brown. “I do. Sure, we might be going bankrupt and losing the house, but I have Bobby. That friendship is stronger than anything else.”

“That’s a good thing to have,” I agree, stabbing another forkful of veg.

“If only there were a way we could help each other.” Clover grins. “Oh, I forgot drinks. Orange juice okay?”

I nod and watch her hop down from the stool and head to the rest of the unpacked grocery bags while her throwaway comment circles my mind. Help one another?

What are the chances that Clover is exactly what I’ve been looking for?