21. Zane

Chapter twenty-one

Zane

I wake up early and glance at the clock. It's far too early to get up yet, so I doze in the bed wishing Jasmine was in my arms. While she seems happy here, I understand her wish to sleep in her own room, but I miss her presence. She should be here, with her head resting on my shoulder, her hair scattered around her head like a halo. I used to enjoy mornings like this with my wife. It was always different with my sons, they only cuddled like this when they needed support. Holding Jasmine is cuddling for mutual pleasure. Despite the call of the meal preparation that needs to start, and the essential coffee needed to function, I have no desire to move.

Or that is my plan until my phone starts ringing. I'm pretty much on call 24/7. As much as I wish I could ignore it to stay in the house with Jasmine, a quick glance at the screen shows me it's Edward and can't be ignored.

It looks like it's time to brew that coffee after all.

The kitchen feels starkly cold compared to the heat of the bedroom. I dial Edward's number, resting the phone between my shoulder and ear as I reach for the knife block. "Edward."

"Morning," his voice is a low rumble, a sound that means business, unlike the frequent calls I get regarding managing his social life.

"What can I do for you?" I ask, keeping my tone even as I select an onion and begin to dice it methodically on the cutting board. The knife effortlessly slices through the crisp layers, focusing my growing anxiety.

"Desmond's been poking around," he reveals, and I pause mid-chop. "Asking questions about Andrew... and Jasmine."

The knife clatters against the chopping board as I straighten, the sensation of being watched crawling up my spine. "How much does he know?"

"Enough to be dangerous. He hasn't pieced it all together yet, but it's only a matter of time." His voice is heavy, speaking volumes compared to his words. "He knows Andrew was waiting for Jasmine. He knows you were there simultaneously, and you had already shown an interest in the girl."

"I need to figure out a story," I conclude.

"I said I would sort this out, and I will. You just lay low with the girl. Limit who knows about her, and I'll cover your arse. It's about time I did something for you."

"Thank you, Sir." I need to ask more about his plans. Making plans for him is literally my job. It's nice he respects me enough to want to help, but I need to know everything that goes on in the organisation. It's how I can relay between the bosses and the capos. I sweep the diced onion into a pan, my motions mechanical as I process the danger I've put my kitten in. "So, what's the play?" I ask, trying to keep my voice level.

"Ronan will pop in with a few of my trusted guys. Over a few drinks, he'll make it clear you convinced the girl to go home with you before Andrew had a chance to speak to her."

"So you are going to tell Desmond where Jasmine is?"

"He most likely knows she's with you already. If we try to hide that, they'll work out why. It's best that he knows she is with you, we need to make it clear you were gone before anything happened to Andrew."

I nod, realising the irony of the movement in a phone conversation, but I can't find the right words. I don't agree with his plan, but he is the boss and trying to change his mind is like giving Knox a loaded gun and saying don't shoot. My only hope with Knox is to put a donkey at the loaded end of the weapon. I have no idea what to do with Edward. Sending Ronan to a place where he never drinks to raise his voice about the one and only time I picked up a girl, right before Andrew's planned encounter, screams cover-up.

"So what do I do?" I give in. Desmond will work this out with or without Edward getting involved. My only goal is to keep Jasmine safe.

"Keep her out of sight," Edward advises firmly. "Whatever you think, however safe you believe it is to let her step outside, don't. It's not over."

"Understood." The only thing keeping Jasmine in here is her belief that it is dangerous out there. This is where I want her to stay.

"Trust me," Edward adds as if he believes I need convincing on this. "It's for the best."

"Alright." I hang up, staring momentarily at a cold pan of onions sitting on the countertop.

"Is everything okay?" Jasmine's voice calls out from the doorway, revealing her presence on the fringe of the conversation wearing nothing but one of my white T-shirts as a baggy nightie.

"Do you want me to tell you?" I question smoothly, pasting on a smile and putting the burden on her. "Or do you want the ignorance of happiness so you can get through a meal with my family?"

"I need to know," she insists.

"Desmond knew that Andrew was going to talk to you. He knew about the film set he had ready. Now you and Andrew are missing so he's made that connection."

"I knew that was likely," Jasmine nods, pasting on a brave face.

"He also knows I was interested in you beforehand. I asked your name while you were dancing."

"Right." She nods again like it's the only reaction she dares to show.

"Edward is going to deal with it," I promise.

"Deal with it, how?" She walks closer to me. I open my arms to her, but instead, she takes the pan to set the onions on the hob. Harsh, but I was burning the vegetables into the bottom of the pan.

"The only way the mafia knows how." We can hide it behind deception and false leads, but both Edward and I know the only solution to this is Desmond's death and putting the fear of god into anyone else with suspicions. We're just going to throw Ronan to the wolves first. Unfortunately for him, anyone who knows the truth is a liability, no matter who they are.

"Let's just say they'll keep him occupied. We will protect you." My voice is filled with false confidence for a peaceful outcome, we're just waiting for him to make the first move. "Desmond won't see them coming. It'll give us some time."

"Alright." She gives a sigh. "Do you need my help with this?"

"I'm fine. If we're going to eat at noon I need to get a bit of the meal prep done before the boys get here so I'm not too busy all morning. Get yourself showered up."

Jasmine stands before me, her slender fingers dancing at the hem of her shirt, teasing the fabric over her head with a slow, practised grace that makes my breath catch. I watch, transfixed, as she reveals her athletic lean figure, each curve and dip a testament to the sexy form she's been hiding.

"What are you doing?" I ask, my voice rougher than I intend, betraying an edge of hunger that's been growing ever since she walked into my life.

"Undressing for a shower," she purrs back, a challenge in her gaze that tells me she knows exactly what effect she's having on me.

I practically float across to her, closing the distance between us in two strides. "Let me give you a reason to need that shower," I growl, my hands finding her waist and pushing her back onto the table. Her legs fall open like the gates of heaven, inviting me in. Without hesitation I kneel on the floor, pressing my head between her thighs, my tongue eager to explore the secrets she holds there.

The first lick has her gasping, a sweet sound that fills the air like music. I work her clit, sucking and flicking with a fervour that matches the pulse of my own desire. My tongue drives deep into her, tasting her essence, and her moans become a symphony of pleasure that echoes off the walls.

"Zane, it's so good," she pants.

When she teeters on the brink, her body taut and trembling, I crawl up her body, pressing kisses into her skin branding her with my lips. "What do you want to finish you? My tongue or my cock?" I whisper against her ear, my words heavy with the promise of protection and luxury even in this raw moment.

"Your cock, please," she screams, her voice laced with desperation and a trust that settles heavy in my chest. She squeals as I lift her in my arms and hurry to the living room where I throw her down on the sofa.

In one swift motion, I shed my clothes, my skin tingling with anticipation. Aligning myself with her tight entrance, I slide home, filling her completely. The world narrows down to the heat of her around me, the way our bodies move together in a passion I've never felt before. We chase our release, locking together in a mess of limbs and sweat until the crescendo hits us both, leaving us shattered.

I collapse beside her, our breathing ragged, the weight of what we've shared pulling me under like a riptide. In the afterglow, I pull her close, entwining our bodies.

I don't know how long we spent cuddling after, but I come to in her arms, a slight panic washing across me as I regain my bearings.

"Damn it, Kitten. You really have to take that shower now."

She rises up, her face filled with sleep, her hair with a mind of its own. "If you insist," she whispers, delaying herself with a kiss.

"I'm afraid I do, kitten." I punctuate my words with a slap across her backside. "Up now woman, unless you don't want to shower before the boys arrive."

She reluctantly leaves the room just as a car pulls up on the drive. I can't get a moment's peace. I draw in a deep breath and head to the front door before my guests even have a chance to knock. I need to know who it is before I'll consider facing them in my pyjamas.

Relief grips me as I spy Marcus' car through the peephole, and a smile finds its way onto my face as Alex jumps out of the car with a bounce in his actions and his six-year-old bunny in his hands.

"Marcus, Flippy-floppy, Alex," I throw open the door and greet them in order of importance, according to the one swinging Flippy-floppy by a tatty ear.

"Grampy, did we get you out of bed?"

"Grampy is old and needed a lie in, didn't you, Grampy?" Marcus teases, making his own mind up about what took my attention from dressing this morning.

"Sorry we weren't here for breakfast, someone had to sleep in," he motions to Alex, "then we stopped at the store for a few things." Marcus grabs too many shopping bags from the car's boot, loading Alex with his own bag before struggling with everything else. "For Jasmine as she won't be going out for a while."

"What do you know?" I question, relieving Marcus of half the bags as he reaches the threshold of my home.

"Edward phoned and filled me in," Marcus reveals. "I've probably been useless, but I picked up a few things a lady might need to survive hiding out here, Alex helped me pick some clothes for her."

"I picked this." Alex tips a bag out onto the floor, causing socks and underpants to tumble out before he grabs a clothes hanger and raises it up. It's a deep red slip of material that probably counts as a dress in this day and age. "Sometimes ladies like to look nice, even if they aren't going out anywhere."

"Alex thought meeting Lenny was important and she would want to look nice," Marcus explains. "He decided that it is important for Lenny and me to have a mummy, and that would be two mummies, which is better than him having a mum, as that would only be one mummy? I don't understand, but if it makes sense to Alex, it's good enough for me." Marcus tries to explain how the six-year-old justifies not getting the one thing he wants more than anything else.

"Two mummies and a nana," I clarify for the squirt. In truth, she'll be more like a mum to Alex than to either of my boys. I failed them when they were his age and actually needed a mother. I hope Marcus can do better for him.