Page 42 of Stolen By the Scottish Mafia Boss

“I’ve got to get back to work,” the builder said before rushing off.

Coward.

The door opened and Emma stood and smoothed her skirt. She flashed a smile before her face fell into a weary expression. I approached and wrapped her in a hug.

“Everything okay?” I asked and she stiffened.

“I just wanted to get away,” she replied after pulling to arm’s length.

“Your mum’s annoying you again, isn’t she?” I asked.

She nodded with a sigh before her eyes trailed up to the manor house’s façade.

“It’s looking really good,” she said, “and I’d hoped if we gave Mom a job to do, she’d have less time to pester me about an actual wedding.”

“We can always give her more to do,” I offered. “It’s good for business. Our brothels are booming since we put her in charge of them.”

“Now that she’s got the life insurance payment, she could always ‘retire’ and be a permanent nag about our real wedding.” Emma’s head fell.

Sal had survived his fall into the basement but had bled out that night. After the danger they’d put Emma in, nobody was all that keen on helping either of the idiots in the basement out. I’d had Sal’s body moved to a craggy ravine in the highlands. He’d been officially missing for five months before they found the remains. His death certificate listed the cause of death as Death by Misadventure – that of almost killing my wife.

Emma’s purse buzzed. She sighed and pulled out her phone, flashing the screen to me. It displayed FACETIME with MOM under it.

“The reception is real spotty out here,” I said.

She held the screen out, frowning at it. It went black and stopped vibrating a few seconds later. My own phone buzzed.

“You don’t have to answer it,” Emma said.

“Yeah, I do,” I replied. “After dealing with your mum, I know where you got your vengeful streak. She’s barely forgiven me for kind of kidnapping you.”

“Come on, she forgave you the moment she saw my ring,” Emma chuckled and playfully tried to grab my phone. “And there was ‘no kind’ of about it, you drugged me.”

“Oh, I’m so glad I caught you two together,” Emma’s mum’s voice blared out of my phone.

We froze before righting the phone. Our little wrestling match over the phone had answered it. Monica’s tanned face appeared on the screen. The ring light in her office put halos in her dark eyes. Her plump lips cracked into a wide smile.

“Now, we don’t want to put this ceremony off any longer,” Emma’s mum continued. “I mean, we’ve got a ticking clock now, especially if Emma wants a flattering gown.”

“Mom!” Emma hissed and leaned close to the phone. “I haven’t told him yet!”

“Told me what?” I asked.

“Oops,” Emma’s mum said, but not very convincingly.

The screen went blank. Emma glared at it anyways before turning to me. She kicked the gravel before speaking.

“I had an ulterior motive for coming,” she said, shyer than I’d ever seen her. “I’m… pregnant.”

“That’s…” I frowned at her, trying to decipher what she wanted. Was it happy news? She didn’t seem all that happy. “… great?”

“Is it?” she replied, searching my eyes like I’d just done with hers.

“It could be,” I said and took her hands. “I mean, if your mom had a grandson to play with, she’d have less time to annoy you.”

“That’s not exactly a great reason to bring a child into the world,” she replied, frown growing.

I pulled her into a hug. Her hands scrambled around my back, squeezing me tight like she was afraid I’d disappear if she let go.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered into her ear. “You don’t have to worry about our child growing up without a father.”

“God, I must sound like a silly little girl,” Emma said, pulling away. “It must be the pregnancy hormones already.”

“You’re allowed to be vulnerable, you know.” I stepped closer and patted her back. “At least with me. And look at this place. It’s way too big for just the two of us. And if we have kids when your little brother visits, we can have him stay in the servants’ quarters.”

Hand in hand, we approached the manor house. I pointed out all the same changes the head builder had just shown me as if I’d done the work myself. By the time I’d escorted her back to the car, she’d grown excited about the idea of children – until I mentioned the high number of triplets in my family tree.

THE END