His Mafia Prince
Chapter 130: Good Little Soldier

Chapter 130: Good Little Soldier

(ARLO)

The lady’s lecturing tone seems to astound Miles. He just nods politely in response.

I try to cut her off from saying more about how Miles should protect me. "I remember back then; you had all types of tasty buttercream cake. Maybe we should go with the buttercream cakes." I look at Miles. "Do you love buttercream cakes?"

He rubs the back of his neck. "Yes. I love all cakes."

"You have to." The woman nods. "Cakes are like pieces of heaven."

"I know," Miles says, leaning over and peering at the refrigerated cakes. "Ooh, those over there look good." His eyes light up.

"They don’t just look good." Says the woman. "They taste good as well,"

He gazes at the cakes and his gaze stops at one particular piece. "I’ve had that before. What is it called?"

"That’s an Italian ricotta cassata cake. It originated in Sicily. It would be a very good cake for a wedding." The old lady smiles.

"Oh... no. I wasn’t thinking about the wedding. I just thought that maybe it would be good for lunch."

"Who eats cake for lunch?" I scowl.

"Why not eat cake for lunch? People eat cereal for dinner."

The woman smiles mischievously. "You want to have a taste? We give out free samples." She doesn’t wait for Miles’s response. She pulls out the cassata cake, cuts a slice then places it on a paper plate. She hand it over along with a little plastic fork.

Miles frowns as he takes the cake. "This is too big for a sample though."

"Is it?" the woman grins. "I didn’t notice." She puts the cake back in the case. "Now, look through the pictures and let me know how many tiers you want the cake to be. Tell me about the flavours you want to. When did you say you need the cake?"

"Sunday."

"Sunday? That’s just two days from now. Quite a tight notice for a wedding cake. It might take a while to make."

"We just need a sizeable cake. Not too big or too small. It’ll just be a small ceremony."

"Oh, alright. We can do that."

Miles glances up, cream on his mouth. "We can always order a bigger cake and remain with the leftovers."

I can’t help but laugh. "You really love cake that much?"

He nods wordlessly and goes back to eating the cake. On a normal day. Miles is usually rather dour and thuggish looking, but right now, he looks like a little kid. His little curls fall on his forehead and he looks like pure bliss as he eats the cake. As if he can feel me gazing at him, he looks up and asks, "You want a piece?"

"No, thanks." I smile.

"You’re sure?"

"Of course." The weird ache that I get in my chest watching him makes me uneasy. If I didn’t know better, I would think that that emotion is affection. Of all the emotions I felt for Miles, affection would be the last one of them. All of these confusing feelings I feel right now are based on instincts. Affection is an actual emotion. Makes me wonder, do I have actual emotions or feelings towards Miles? I doubt it.

I carry the big book and head over to a table by the window. I put the book down, make myself comfortable then begin to scuffle through the pages. I’m not really seeing anything though. The way my heart aches every time I glance at Miles confuses me. Obvious of my mental breakdown, he gets up, throws the plate in the trash and joins me at the small table. I jerk away when his leg brushes mine and he frowns.

"What’s the matter?" he asks.

"Nothing," I say in a clipped tone, not shifting my focus from the book.

"Did I do something to annoy you?" his brow arches. "Are you mad that I ate the whole cake by myself?"

"No." I glance up and meet his puzzled gaze. "I just find it odd sitting here and choosing cakes for a wedding I don’t even want to begin with."

"I would have shared the cake, Arlo. All you had to do was ask."

"Miles," I mumble. "I don’t care about the cake."

"Well, something is up with you. Much as you are refusing, I know you better than you think I do. And I can tell when there is a problem."

I meet his gaze and get pissed when I notice how dark and long his thick lashes are. "I’m not upset at you, Miles. Okay? I just want to get this over and done with."

"Hmmm..." he says looking sceptical.

I keep turning the pages and notice how his leg touches mine. I don’t want to make him think I’m mad again by pulling my leg away from his. I turn another page and come upon six smaller cakes. One of the small two-tier cakes catches my eye and I stop turning the pages.

The cake is covered in silky buttercream frosting. It has a small bouquet of edible lavender sugar flowers at the top. Each flower shows a marvel of detail. The cake looks simple and elegant. I instantly know that it is the cake that I want.

"That looks pretty," Miles says, putting his fingers on the cake that I want. "I wouldn’t mind that one.

I glance up at him, looking surprised. "You like that one?"

"Yeah, I do. I think it is my favourite one so far. Maybe we should taste it before we decide?"

"Sure," I say softly. "I like it too."

He beams a smile at me and that annoying ache comes back. I drag my gaze from his and quickly get up to my feet, bumping on the table. I carry the big book back to the counter. "We have decided on the cake that we want."

"Which one?" the old lady comes over.

I show her the one I have in mind and she nods. "That one has layers of sponge cake, separated by raspberry cream filling. But you can also do strawberries if you want. It has a hint of lemon zest too. It’s my husband’s favourite. I can guarantee you that it is delicious."

Miles joins me. I can feel the heat of his body behind me. My pulse picks up. What the fuck is going on with me today? Every time Miles comes close to me, I feel jittery. I don’t like this the least bit. I went to be able to ignore him but it just isn’t working today. I keep hoping this intense pull toward him will fade, but it just keeps getting stronger so much that it frustrates me.

"We can do strawberry or raspberry. Which one would you prefer?" I ask him gruffly.

"Either can work."

"We will do the raspberry." I finally tell the woman. I just need to get this cake-shopping bullshit done with and get some distance from Miles.

We fill out the paperwork and Miles pays the deposit. We then leave the bakery and return to his car. He tries talking about the other wedding details on our way back but I only give him one- or two-word responses. I know that he must be frustrated by my standoffish behaviour, but this pull frustrates me just as much as he is.

He didn’t even want this marriage to begin with, but now he is fully on board. He has accepted his fate and he is just going with the flow. I wonder if he is doing so just because Sasha ordered him to. Does he just follow him blindly?

Good little soldier.

The idea that he is marrying me just because Sasha asked him to irks me. I don’t understand why. It’s not like I want him to marry me for love. When I first began this whole plan, I had one goal in mind, but it all turned out into one evil confusing scheme, I don’t even know why I’m still staggered. Even angels have wicked conspiracies but this... this is extreme. I don’t want to marry him at all, hell, I’m not even looking forward to it. I don’t look forward to sharing his bed.

I love the way I’m lying to myself.

Lust shifts through me at the thought of me sharing his bed. Being his omega. Belonging to Miles Caspar. I graze the bite mark on my neck with the tips of my fingers and heat rushes through me. If this is what it means to be fated mated, then the universe has a very perverse sense of humour.

He takes a turn into the intersection on a green light. Still feeling agitated, I glance at the window on my right. The sight of a white SUV barreling toward us as it runs the red light horrifies me. I open my mouth to shout a warning, but words fail me. It is already too late. The SUV slams into us before I can get a word out.

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