Marauder - Bella Di Corte Page 0,64

the library. The sun was rising, starting to brighten Hell’s Kitchen, and the view of New York held me captive to my spot. For the first time in a long time, I took a second to appreciate the start of a new day. It all had to do with my new point of view.

It was different, and in this overcrowded city, something fresh.

The moment the sun fully came up, I moved, looking for Kelly. I found him in the kitchen eating breakfast. He was dressed in a suit, sitting at the table, reading a magazine on the mob. He set it down when he heard me rummaging through the cabinets. I had cereal every morning for breakfast. All the marauder had was oatmeal.

Sighing, feeling like I was five again and forced to eat something that gave me a texture problem, I started looking for items to make oatmeal. If I was going to do it, it was going to be sugary. Bananas. Cinnamon. Walnuts. Brown sugar.

“You don’t have any sugar,” I said, searching deeper into the pantry. “You’re not one of those kinds of people, are you?”

“I don’t need it,” he said, and I noticed the way his eyes took in his shirt on my body.

I shook my head, deciding that I’d pick up something quick on my way out. I had a fitting for one of my costumes, and then the rest of the day was mine. I’d decided to make myself at home in Kelly’s bedroom after, getting cozy.

He stood, fixing his tie, and then grabbed his bowl and cup from the table, bringing them over to the sink. I turned and watched him.

“Work?” I said.

“Every day.”

“Must be fun to be you,” I said.

“Loads.”

Was that an attitude I detected from Cash Kelly? My bet was still strong from the night before—he was either going to be gone or not as la de da as usual. Since he stood next to me, his carefree attitude had taken a small hit.

He turned to me but said nothing. He just looked at me. I wasn’t a woman who minded attention, but we stood close, and he eyed me like he had something on his mind.

“What’s that look for?” I said, finally breaking the tension.

He looked around. “No mirror in here, darlin.’ The only face I see is yours.”

“Your thoughts are showing on your face. It matches the hate I feel coming from you.”

Without missing a beat, he said, “Maybe I do. Hate you a little.”

I grinned, not taking offense. Hate was an emotion, and I considered it a small victory that I’d gotten under his skin some. “It’s no fun when someone magically slips over your walls and rages war against your heart, Marauder. Am I right?”

He narrowed his eyes at me in a challenging dare. “I don’t have one to war with.” He fixed his tie again. “Be ready by five sharp. I’ll be by to pick you up.” He pulled out his wallet and set a credit card on the counter. “Get something new and expensive.”

“Where are we going?”

“Dinner and then a political thing.”

“Formal?”

He nodded. Then he stared at me again.

After a few seconds, I said, “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Kelly?”

“When I’m ready.”

He put a hand on each side of me, one on each side of my waist, his strong arms caging me in against the counter. I lifted one eyebrow, daring him to say or do whatever was on his mind. Dare for dare.

After a minute or two, he grinned, and then left without saying another word.

As usual, Kelly sent Raff with me.

We grabbed breakfast down the street from Kelly’s place, two bagels and two teas, before we headed back, going for Raff’s car. He was going to drive me to the fitting and then to pick out a dress for Kelly’s political thing that evening.

“Mrs. Kelly!”

Raff nudged me, and I nudged him back. “Keep your hands to yourself,” I said.

He stopped walking and nodded behind him. “Mrs. O’Connell.”

“Ms. O'Connell?” I said the name at the same time that I turned. The woman from the block party, Maureen, rushed toward me. Connolly kept step, but barely.

“Yeah,” Raff said, narrowing his eyes at them. “She called you twice.”

“Mrs. Kelly,” she said when she was close enough. “I need to ask a favor of you.”

She seemed winded, but I didn’t think it was from the walk. I could tell she was a tough old broad, but something about her seemed almost desperate. It was something about the sound

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