CHAPTER 9

DARLENE

"W-when do you want to set the date?" I squirmed shyly, it was all happening too fast, I didn't know two things about picking out a wedding dress, although I suspected a man like Alexander would handle it.

"Anytime from now, I want my wife in my bed with me as soon as possible." He chriped calmly and I stifled yet another scream as my breath hitched in my chest.

"Of course, no …wifely duties would be required of you Darlene…at least not immediately." He soothed, choking an awkward laugh when he caught on my no doubt mortified expression.

I wasn't scared of being with him, far from it, haters would have said I was even looking forward to it!

I just wouldn't know what to do with myself, in their big stone mansion, in bed, next to this handsome man.

"Uh, great!" I hollered with way more enthusiasm than was healthy.

"Do you always do that?" His velvet voice thrummed through me as I whipped my head to him sharply.

Do what? What was I doing?

"Bite your lips like that when you're nervous? Not that I'm complaining, it's…cute." Alexander finished, thinking about the last part as though he wasn't used to saying the word as a lock of dark hair fell over his eyes and I swallowed reflexively.

The coy flirt!

I hadn't forgotten the images that were washed over the tabloids not long ago of Fredrick in a compromising position with a handful of naked women.

If his younger brother was like that, It made me wonder what feminine luxuries the mysterious first-born of the billionaire Mafia- business man- was privy to.

A misplaced stab of jealousy pinched at my heart but I released my bottom lip from the chokehold.

"Is it that obvious?" I whispered, pouting earnestly and he laughed again. I liked making him laugh, this serious stranger.

It felt good to be the one making him laugh when damn near no one could.

Maybe I should have considered a career in stand up comedy?

The man scoffed, shaking his mop of wavy black hair before pinning me with his olive-green gaze again.

"I'm usually better at reading people than most, Got to be with my line of business." He said quietly, his breath catching when I leaned over to tuck a strand of hair over his diamond studded ears.

Now why had I done that?

I flopped the hovering hand back in between my thighs as he looked away so I couldn't see what he was thinking.

"You don't have to be so frightened around me Darlene," He sighed heavily, twiddling the long blade that'd turned brown in between his fingers as an embarrassed blush bloomed on my cheeks.

"I'm not going to hurt you, nor will I let my father if you refuse." He grunted, flashing me with his swampy gaze again before leaning back on the vine-choked stone slab.

I knew this already, somehow, that he wasn't going to hurt me, even behind the tough exterior.

But Mr. McKenzie? I wasn't so sure.

"I think our time together is up." Alexander breathed before stretching to his feet and pulling me to mine.

I followed his gaze over my shoulder to the lavish sporangia enfused park gate where Dad was standing with hands akimbo, a large shit-eating grin on his face and his chest so far up it practically brushed his chin.

"I'm afraid I'd have to interrupt your romantic rendezvous, the McKenzies' are mighty busy people!" He boomed, winking at me and jerking a hasty laugh as I watched on in red-faced horror.

I could have screamed, throwing my hands up in the air as I ran from the scene, but I instead gave a shaky smile.

My sister must have visited the bakery at some point, because she was standing right beside our father, the plump line of her bow-shaped lips scrunched up in an angry snarl as she fisted her hands over her chest.

"And this must be Stella, pleasure, don't believe we've met?" He asked graciously, extending one jewelled hand that hung in the air before I awkwardly placed my hand in it and he retracted it slowly.

Damn the little punk, she was going to ruin this for us!

"My apologies young man, where are your manners Stella!" Dad's angry whisper faded as he pulled my sister away by the ear to give her another lecture on good behavior.

"Ow! Lemme go Dad! What the hell!" She harrumphed just as Alexander shook his head and they stumbled past.

.

Inside the bakery, the McKenzie's were standing dutifully at the cafe table, mugs of coffee emptied on the white tapestry Ma had knit herself.

"Finally! Thought I might've needed a cane to walk outta here." The strawberry blonde man turned from the blue-tinted glass window where he'd been watching us to blow a ring of smoke in my face.

I didn't know which to be more concerned about, but Stella beat me to it, stomping up behind me angrily to tell the smug looking man off.

"No smoking in the shop you perv!" She ground through gritted teeth, the long cascade of her blonde hair bobbing dramatically as she pointed a shaky finger to the neon 'No Smoking' sign on the wall.

"It's okay firecracker," I hushed, putting a comforting hand on her back as wisps of smoke left her reddened ears and she took deep, heaving breaths before she whipped to face me suddenly.

"I told you not to call me that in public." It was all I could do not to grin evilly at her mousy whisper, right until Mr. McKenzie cleared his thick throat, snapping me out of my reverie.

"Alright! I can see you have your hands full, we'll be on our way Mr. Bernardo," The stoic looking aristocrat boomed authoritatively before turning his straight back and heading out the door, leaving Dad nodding effusively.

"And thank you for the delicious pastries Bernardo!" The honey soft voice of Stephanie McKenzie tittered as she clasped Dad's hands in her own.  The small porcelain of her oval face lifting as she smiled kindly.

"And the coffee," Alexander's baritone added as he stepped around me, his hands leaving the small of my back as heat bloomed on my cheeks, Again, and Fredrick scoffed, rolling his icy blue eyes and strutting off like the wooden vinyl of the floor of the bakery like it was a  red carpet runway.

"Always a pleasure," Dad chriped, grinning and waving off the reclusive matte-black stretch of their Limo as Stella sucked her teeth beside me, folding her hands over her chest like she'd rather be anywhere else.

"Well that went well! Wouldn't you say?" Dad turned to us, ignoring our confused chipmunk noises as he waddled into the shop, tugging us along like sad old maidens.

"I don't like that Man," Stella seethed behind me, the irritation clear in the V of her forehead when I didn't immediately agree, like I always had.

"You don't like anybody Le Petit." I sing-songed and she rolled her copper brown eyes, marching into the backroom and muttering curses about hacking up my wedding with a chainsaw as Dad loaded the view glass with glazed donuts, a look of happy serenity on his reddened face.

It made me wonder, just what I had gotten myself into.