Page 65 of The Bratva's Christmas Bump

Hollie purses her lips. “So that’s why Stu was there.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I guess I never really thought about it. What else are you keeping me safe from other than your dear old dad?”

“Word spread quickly of our marriage. Unfortunately, keeping you safe this way came with the price of every enemy I have discovering my weakness.”

“Oh.” She straightens up slightly in her chair. “I never thought of that either.”

“I don’t expect you to.” The chicken flips over. “You’re not a criminal.”

“So I’m your weakness?”

“I’d be a poor host if I married you to save your life from one maniac and lost you to another, don’t you think?”

Hollie chuckles softly and gradually relaxes.

“Tell me about your new client.”

“He’s a fan, apparently. He’s proposing to his girlfriend and the musician previously booked pulled out, so he called Tiffany in a panic and she put him through. He seems nice, but he’s paying me an obscene amount.”

“How much?” As the chicken finishes, I drain the pasta while keeping a close eye on Hollie.

“Fifteen grand.”

“That’s nothing.”

“To you, maybe.” Hollie snorts. “But to me, it’s enough that next year, I can send my parents away on the holiday they always talk about but never take. And maybe get a nicer apartment.”

“You have access to my finances,” I reply, setting the pasta pot back down. “I could pay for both of those.”

“No.”

“No?” I pour the homemade tomato and pesto sauce over the pasta.

“It’s… I’m not in this situation to take advantage of your money. If you want to do something nice with it, consider donating it to those in need. I’m capable of taking care of my own life.”

“You’re shaming me for my lack of charitable deeds?”

Hollie pushes off the counter and laughs. “I’m just saying, people with money like you are never doing the right things with it. It’s all penthouses and yachts, cars and clothes. It’s never charity or helping real people.”

“Charity will be my downfall.”

“How so?” She starts to wander away toward the lounge, examining statues and decorations as she walks.

“I can’t anonymously donate in the way you might expect. Hardly the safest way to maintain a criminal empire.”

“Not much of an empire if some charitable deeds can end your reign.”

Holly starts opening cupboards and drawers, vanishing from my sight while I remove the peppers from the oven and fill them with the chicken. By the time they’re smothered in cheese and under the grill, Hollie’s located a large cardboard box and set it on the couch.

“You have Christmas decorations but you don’t decorate?”

My heart stills faintly in my chest while I watch her open the flaps and remove a blue and silver streamer that holds onto its glossy glint despite not seeing the light of day in years. “Those aren’t mine.”

She pauses and eyes me quizzically. “Then whose are they?”

“My brother’s.”