Patrick: A Mafia Love Story by Kit Tunstall, R.E. Saxton Page A
Authors: Kit Tunstall, R.E. Saxton
Ads: Link
again.
***
The heat of summer had given way partially to the encroaching coolness of fall. It was one of those days where the weather couldn’t seem to make up its mind, vacillating between hot sunshine and a balmy breeze every few minutes. She had dressed in layers to prepare for the weather. The tartan skirt and matching gold camisole were chic yet practical, as were the cable knit tights and knee-high boots.
She carried a sweater over her arm, deciding she would stop for coffee on her way back to the apartment. The tights might have been overkill, at least at the moment, with the sun beating down on her. She was aware of Jake and Isaac walking a couple of feet behind her, and another security man whose name she didn’t remember walking ahead. He was someone from a different detail, usually working in Patrick’s other sectors, but he had been pulled in for duty today to cover for Scott, her third bodyguard, who had called in sick.
Patrick had insisted on more security for her when she’d started her new job at a community center four blocks from their apartment. It was a volunteer position, but she enjoyed it immensely. She was teaching art classes to underprivileged children, and it felt good to be doing something useful, and something she enjoyed. With no need to worry about money, it was liberating to do what called to her, rather than what she was paid to perform.
He hadn’t liked that she was walking back and forth, but it seemed silly to take a car four blocks there and four blocks back. Besides, she was Patrick’s wife, and that practically made her untouchable, at least in their city. She knew things were still strained with the Italians, but not to the point where she had to worry about being whacked. Whacked? A giggle/snort escaped her. She was even starting to sound like a mafia wife.
She waved her hand in the direction of the coffee shop across the road. Jake and Isaac immediately turned with her, but her guard in front made a few more steps before he realized they had broken off. She bit back a grin at his muttered curse when he turned and jogged to catch up with them, once again smoothly inserting himself in front of her.
She missed Scott, who seemed to know which days she would stop for coffee, and which she wouldn’t. He was a bit closer to her own age than Jake or Isaac, and they got along well. She suspected Patrick might have been jealous, if Scott hadn’t been married to a very handsome man.
Entering the coffee shop, she got in line and ordered drinks for herself, Jake, and Isaac. Looking at her new man, whose name she still couldn’t remember, which was frustrating and embarrassing, she settled for asking, “What would you like?”
He shook his head. “Nothing, thank you, Mrs. Murphy.”
With a small shrug, she paid for her order and went to the area where they would receive their drinks. She still got a small thrill every time someone called her Mrs. Murphy, even after nine weeks as his wife. It already felt like it had been years, and she could barely remember a time when she hadn’t belonged with Patrick.
As soon as they had the drinks, the small group went to a table, and she chose a wingback closest to it. She was tired today, and she suspected why, but she hadn’t had a chance to confirm for herself yet, let alone mention to Patrick why her breasts might be sore, and she was waking up with a surge of nausea in the mornings. A box of tests waited at home for her, but she’d been running late this morning and hadn’t had time to use one.
She was impatient to pee on the stick and see the confirmation of her pregnancy, but she wasn’t sure she really needed that verification. Her period was two weeks late, and it had returned to normal as soon as she had ditched the birth control pills.
And they certainly hadn’t slacked in the trying department, she thought with a small grin, barely holding back a moan as she remembered just last night how Patrick had been overwhelmed
***
The heat of summer had given way partially to the encroaching coolness of fall. It was one of those days where the weather couldn’t seem to make up its mind, vacillating between hot sunshine and a balmy breeze every few minutes. She had dressed in layers to prepare for the weather. The tartan skirt and matching gold camisole were chic yet practical, as were the cable knit tights and knee-high boots.
She carried a sweater over her arm, deciding she would stop for coffee on her way back to the apartment. The tights might have been overkill, at least at the moment, with the sun beating down on her. She was aware of Jake and Isaac walking a couple of feet behind her, and another security man whose name she didn’t remember walking ahead. He was someone from a different detail, usually working in Patrick’s other sectors, but he had been pulled in for duty today to cover for Scott, her third bodyguard, who had called in sick.
Patrick had insisted on more security for her when she’d started her new job at a community center four blocks from their apartment. It was a volunteer position, but she enjoyed it immensely. She was teaching art classes to underprivileged children, and it felt good to be doing something useful, and something she enjoyed. With no need to worry about money, it was liberating to do what called to her, rather than what she was paid to perform.
He hadn’t liked that she was walking back and forth, but it seemed silly to take a car four blocks there and four blocks back. Besides, she was Patrick’s wife, and that practically made her untouchable, at least in their city. She knew things were still strained with the Italians, but not to the point where she had to worry about being whacked. Whacked? A giggle/snort escaped her. She was even starting to sound like a mafia wife.
She waved her hand in the direction of the coffee shop across the road. Jake and Isaac immediately turned with her, but her guard in front made a few more steps before he realized they had broken off. She bit back a grin at his muttered curse when he turned and jogged to catch up with them, once again smoothly inserting himself in front of her.
She missed Scott, who seemed to know which days she would stop for coffee, and which she wouldn’t. He was a bit closer to her own age than Jake or Isaac, and they got along well. She suspected Patrick might have been jealous, if Scott hadn’t been married to a very handsome man.
Entering the coffee shop, she got in line and ordered drinks for herself, Jake, and Isaac. Looking at her new man, whose name she still couldn’t remember, which was frustrating and embarrassing, she settled for asking, “What would you like?”
He shook his head. “Nothing, thank you, Mrs. Murphy.”
With a small shrug, she paid for her order and went to the area where they would receive their drinks. She still got a small thrill every time someone called her Mrs. Murphy, even after nine weeks as his wife. It already felt like it had been years, and she could barely remember a time when she hadn’t belonged with Patrick.
As soon as they had the drinks, the small group went to a table, and she chose a wingback closest to it. She was tired today, and she suspected why, but she hadn’t had a chance to confirm for herself yet, let alone mention to Patrick why her breasts might be sore, and she was waking up with a surge of nausea in the mornings. A box of tests waited at home for her, but she’d been running late this morning and hadn’t had time to use one.
She was impatient to pee on the stick and see the confirmation of her pregnancy, but she wasn’t sure she really needed that verification. Her period was two weeks late, and it had returned to normal as soon as she had ditched the birth control pills.
And they certainly hadn’t slacked in the trying department, she thought with a small grin, barely holding back a moan as she remembered just last night how Patrick had been overwhelmed
Similar Books
