Stealing His Kitten Read Online Mink

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Insta-Love, Mafia, Novella, Romance, Virgin Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
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Marigold
I’m not supposed to be in this greenhouse, and I’m definitely not supposed to be stealing this super rare flower, but I’m in deep trouble, and this flower is the key out of it. Too bad it’s owned by a man who catches me easily, calls me his little cat burglar, and takes me captive. He does other things, too, things that make me hot all over.

Avery
When I catch a thief, I generally have no mercy. After all, I’m a thief too, so I hold others in my profession to the highest standard. Marigold, however, is a special case. One that makes my mouth water and my heart pound whenever she’s near. Too bad her father is a cop, one who’s heard of me and all my dirty deeds. But I’m not about to let the greatest treasure of my life slip away, even if she doesn’t yet know just how bad I truly am. Marigold is mine, and I always keep what I steal.

MINK: Enjoy this tale of stolen love with your furry friend and a cuppa.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

1

AVERY

“Are you seriously telling me that they gave the contract to the Brewster brothers?” I sigh and lean back in my desk chair.

“You’re not in the game anymore, remember?” Elliot chides.

“I’m not, but I can’t believe anyone would give those bumbling fools a contract, much less one that requires precision. If they manage to kill this senator without getting caught or leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to themselves, I’ll be shocked.”

“Remember that congressman you offed?” he asks.

“Which one?” I snort.

“The one with the mistress who looked like Dolly Parton.”

“Oh, yeah. The one from Tennessee. He was a real asshole. Thumping his Bible on TV and beating up his mistress in private. Killing him was easy.” I sigh. “But those days are gone.”

“You chose this, remember?”

“I did.” I retired young, mainly because people in my line of work rarely make it to true retirement age. “What are you up to besides giving me bad news?”

“Job in Vienna. Nothing flashy. Stealing some art. Pretty run of the mill.”

My ears perk up. “Anything I might be interested in?”

He laughs. “Doubtful. Besides, don’t you have enough priceless shit in that mansion of yours?”

“Never.” I drum my fingers on the desk. “Tell me if you get anything particularly rare. I can pay top dollar.”

“I know, but I don’t want to see you on an episode of Filthy Rich Hoarders anytime soon, so I think I’ll keep my spoils to myself. Besides, I’ve already got a hefty payday coming if I can lift this stuff and get it out of the country.”

“You will.” I try not to sound jealous, but fuck, I miss work. When I was in it, I couldn’t wait to get out of it. But now … Now I wander the halls of my home, inspect my holdings, and simply exist. I don’t engage in shootouts, don’t steal masterpieces, don’t torture rivals for fun, don’t do anything except maintain my empire of rare and valuable things.

Heirloom rubs against my leg, bringing me back to the now. I pick him up and set him on the desk, his big blue eyes peering at me.

“All right, I’m going to get to work,” Elliot says.

“Call me if you need me.”

We hang up, and I scratch Heirloom under his chin. He purrs and butts his head against mine, the diamonds on his collar sparkling with each movement.

“Do you have any idea how spoiled you are?” I ask him.

He rubs his cheek against me.

“You do, don’t you?” I smile. No point taking my frustration out on him. He’s by far my favorite possession, though I can admit a shelter cat who’s missing half an ear doesn’t seem priceless in comparison to the rest of my collection. He is, all the same. “Let’s check the greenhouse. The golden orchid is going to open any day now. We can’t miss it.”

He hops from the desk and trots into the hall. I follow him, winding my way down the stairs and along the back hallway.

Cutting through the kitchen, I run into Mrs. Lou. “Something smells good.”

She nods to a beat, her Airbuds in, and chops an onion. Mr. Lou sits at the kitchen table and carefully folds napkins, each one of them precise.

“How’s it going?”

He looks up at me and cups a hand to his ear. “Mr. Harbin?”

“I was just asking how you’re doing.”

He smiles, his wrinkles doubling. “Wonderful, thank you sir.”

Mrs. Lou shakes her hips and slides the diced onion into a hot pan, the sizzle loud in the open space.

“I’ll leave you to it.” I keep going, following Heirloom out the back door, along the pool deck and to the greenhouse. When I open the door, he jets inside and hops up on the worktable.

The last rays of sun are fading as I inspect a row of plants, each of them rarer than the last. It’s not that I particularly enjoy plants or greenery, but certain plants are worth a fortune. Some of these are the last of their kind. Priceless. That makes them fall under my purview, and I keep them here as part of my collection.

I spritz a few of them with a water bottle, then continue my inspection. Mr. Lou has been doing an excellent job keeping everything in top shape. But I came here to look at my prize–a rare golden orchid.

It’s one of only three known to exist in the world, and I have it right here.

When I open the door to its special room, Heirloom pads in and looks around, his nose in the air as if he smells something I can’t.

I stop in front of the orchid’s pot. The leaves are wide and only slightly curved, golden veins running through them in variegated patterns. It’s beautiful even when it isn’t in bloom, but I’m here for the true payoff. At the top of a thin stem, there are four dark green buds, each one tightly wrapped in on itself.


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