He laughs.
“Speaking of family, let’s not introduce me to yours too soon.”
“You aren't ready?” He gives my arm a reassuring squeeze.Hell, nodangles from my tongue, but I bite my bottom lip and jerk a shoulder.
“Lux . . .”
An unspoken discussion settles between us. My brows lift.
“I, uh, promise you’ll experience everything my land has to offer.”
I settle into his lap, nudging his neck and inhaling him.
“Luxury.”
I offer a snore.
“You’re not asleep.”
“You’re not a man who isn’t sure of himself. Remember when I mocked you at first sight?”
“Well, yes.” He runs circles over my lower back, and I pull away from him.
“You’re a Doberman, Vic. Why so reluctant all of a sudden?”
“I’ve billions, Luxury.”
“Billions of what?”
“Look around you, Little One.” He flicks his gaze to theTudorembossed into the leather.
“Billions of dollars,” I mumble.Holy . . .
“Euros. More of an accurate depiction, really.”
“More accurate?”
“Our money’s bigger than yours.”
“That was funny,” I murmur contemplative.
“I tried.” A massive shoulder lifts. “There’s another thing . . .”
I groan into his neck, inhaling his intoxicating scent while strong arms protect me from long-dormant secrets. “No, thank you, Vic. Let me sleep off your first revelation.”
“Here’s the other; I’ve a duchy, Little One. I . . .am . . . a duke,” he concludes in the noble tone he often assumes.
Eyes peeling open, I let a lazy, pathetic chuckle draw out of me. “Listen, I’m wrapping my mind around you being a killer. Funny story, the same smutty book shared how most royalty—dukes, marquesses, and such—are penniless.”
“That would be correct.”
“Alright, so stop trying to break the ice, Vic. I get it. Murder has its benefits, thus the private jet.”
“Well, yes,” he agrees.
I marvel in the faintest of lines near his eyes, pressing my lips there. “Thanks for keeping me safe, Vic. While I sleep, fine-tune your jokes. Better yet, leave that for people who actually enjoy smiling, which you rarely do. Good night.”
14