CHAPTER 8

"You like flowers?" Alexander McKenzie's voice was gruff and I was aware that behind the short curtain of hair that'd fallen over my face as I bent to admire a hibiscus bush, he was watching me.

"I do! Even the ugly ones!" I gushed, unable to help the smile that lifted my already high cheekbones.

Flowers and cakes and maple syruped donuts, I wondered if that made me a typical romcom barbie.

"I don't, all that hardwork for a few pretty days before they wilt and die off." The man muttered, the toned muscle of his bicep flexing through the silk line of his crisply ironed suit.

Yes, I imagined he much preferred everything plastic. It reminded me of Laura Diego, my best-friend since ever. She'd vehemently denied getting any work done, but I'd noticed the lift of her big foxy eyes.

I wondered what she would think of the Mafia prince.

"Huh." I settled for instead, and he cleared his throat, rubbing the nape of his neck awkwardly.

"So, what was your childhood like?" I fished, unsure why I was changing the subject.

The McKenzie looked as perplexed, surprising me when he answered the question.

"Great, my father's an iron hand kinda guy, but I've always had Fredrick take half the blame for everything so, it wasn't all too bad." He surmised, not meeting my eye. I got the feeling he was telling me the press version of his childhood.

Now that I thought about it, I was almost certain I'd read his account word for word in The New York Times or something.

Talk about flying head first into deep waters.

"Did you really mean it?" I asked suddenly, turning to face him and tripping over the heavily kohled grass that'd wrapped it's rough spine around my ankle.

"Whoa! Careful Snow White." He chuckled, his eyebrows raised high over the widened fringe-framed almond eyes as the weight of his arms wrapped around me so I could feel the chiseled line of his pecs through my dress.

"Did I really mean what?" Alexander breathed, not realeasing me as he cranked his head back to stare down at me. The look in his eyes as I looked up to him in horror was sensual.

"T-that you would let me run away." I hissed, jerking away from the impromptu hug that was more comfortable than I'd realized. All that testosterone made the nub of my nipples chaff in my net-veined bra.

"Yes Darlene, if you wish to, I won't stop you." He breathed, crossing his arms over his expansive chest before proceeding to completely ruin the smile that'd grown on my face.

"The way I see it, you don't have anything to lose, I'm the one with the world's expectations on my shoulders." He chimed, as I sat beside him on the stone slab.

And my, what big shoulders they were!

I scoffed audibly and the man paused, looking taken aback.

I had nothing to lose? McKenzie men had entitlement carved out of granite and big ball sacks of steel.

I guessed that was how it was when you ran the biggest mafia ring in all of New York.

"You don't understand, once we get married, everything changes. You're part of the ring, McKenzie name, you're…complicit," He said, the faraway look in his eye returning as he trailed off.

"Look, I know, what's expected of me okay?" I interrupted, hesitating when the full pink of his lips firmed in a flat line, damn near recoiling in horror when I realized I'd been licking my own lips like some parched sahara lizard.

"But I can't give you the love of a supportive wife, not like your mother gives your father Mr. McKenzie," I huffed sadly, making air-quotes as I finished.

Alexander McKenzie might be an Adonis in the flesh, but it didn't mean I was selling my soul with my body.

I couldn't help the shiver that spread through me when the flash of those big, strong hands touching my body flickered in my head.

Hands I was sure had punished far too many and killed even more, weirdly enough, it did nothing to dampen my fantasy.

Ugh! Get a grip Darlene! God's sake, what is wrong with you!

He'd gone quiet, twiddling a blade of dew-stained grass between his thumb and index finger, so I continued naturally, like the blabber mouth that I was.

"And then you'd eventually get tired of me and our contract would be over, a-and I'd be out on the street at the ripe age of fourty, with nothing to my name but the clothes off my harridan back-" I choked out until the thick weight of his jade ringed finger cut me off as it settled over my lips and his olive colored eyes danced with amusement.

"Shhh, It's okay Darlene, I could never get tired of you." The gravelly baritone of his voice was soft as he leaned in to look at me, his gaze falling to my pursed lips as heat spread from his hand to small half moons on my cheeks.

"And Alexander's fine, if you are to be my woman afterall, can't have any of that Mr McKenzie bullshit." He insisted, trailing off to stare at me with his neck craned to the side.

I was sure I looked just about as ripe as a tomato, what with my rosacea acting hand in hand with my excited heartbeat.

If I was his woman, Dad and mum and Stella would never have to flip another dough cake in their lives.

A lot of women would have killed to be in my matte-black Maryjane shoes, maybe even men too, lord knew I'd taken enough evil eyes the past week to tide my night terrors.

I looked at the orchid-lined stone walls of Ecstacy park in the distance, wondering if it was too late to run before raking my eyes back to the brooding man's riveting gaze.

"So?" He mused, arching one thick eyebrow as a loopsided smile played on the corner of his lips and I caught myself in time to avoid face-planting in the grass from all the swooning.

Dammit if he didn't look like he already knew what my answer would be.

"I-i guess," I sighed, throwing my hands up in faux martyrdom, before turning my eyes back to him.

"You guess? Darlene, I'm not banking my future on guesses." He said seriously, planting his elbows on his knees and facing me.

The man made it impossible to look away, every bit the intimidating hulk of a man the tabloids said he was.

"I'm sure, I want this to work." I sighed, brushing imaginary dust from my laps.

I didn't, not really, I wouldn't fit in their world, but my family's would shoot up by a good few millions.

He regarded me a moment, the long bush of his dark eyelashes fluttering as he looked me up and down, as though giving me a chance to back out before that slow easy smile spread over his full lips.

It was sweet, so I pretended I hadn't noticed the way his eyes had lingered on the W of my cottage-core flower dress, and that the tingling his passion had caused in my core was only the fickle draft of the early morning breeze.

I resisted the urge to push back the wavy locks of his hair and peer into his skull so I could tell what was going on in that mind of his.

That was one sure fire way to send a suitor running for the moss-covered hills if I'd ever seen any.