My Favorite Kidnapper Read Online Melanie Moreland

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Funny, Insta-Love Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)

A laugh out loud, unconventional opposites attract love story from New York Times bestselling author Melanie Moreland
I touched her confectionary creation, and she told me off.
Slapping my hands and cursing in her own unique fashion.
No one talked to me that way.
I liked it.
I liked her cake even more.
So, I took her to Italy to bake for me.
I should have asked her first, but I had a feeling she’d say no.
I brought her cat, though—that should count for something.
Now, I just need to convince her to stay.
And forget that little word.
I’d prefer lover.
But we’ll wait until she doesn’t want to kill me in my sleep.

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

Chapter One


I pulled the car into a parking spot close to the doors of the venue, glancing around in curiosity. The building was large and spacious. Elegant, even from the outside—hardly a surprise knowing my sister-in-law, Amanda. There were other cars around, no doubt staff getting ready for the event. A van was parked around the side, and from what I had seen as I’d driven around the parking lot, it was a food-type vehicle, probably bringing in some outside catering for the wedding.

I stroked my fingers along my chin, frowning when I realized the scruff was longer than normal. I would have to trim it before returning later. But for now, I wanted to walk around and scope out the building.

“Looking for escape routes,” my brother would mutter if he were around.

And he’d be right.

I was always completely aware of my surroundings. I knew the entrances and exits. The back doors and hidden spots staff was aware of for easy access. I familiarized myself every time. It was part of the game. Part of my life.

Inside, I strolled the halls, not surprised when I wasn’t stopped or questioned by the occasional staff member I came across. A few looked at me with curiosity, but that was it. They recognized the fact that I wasn’t to be bothered with inane questions about my visit. They simply nodded and kept doing their duties. My ego wanted to believe it was my menacing presence, but the truth was, my brother, Paolo, probably informed the venue I would be here looking around.

Either way, I was left alone.

I preferred it that way.

I paused, looking in the kitchen, located in the back part of the building and hidden from sight. It was a bustling, crowded area. The head chef barked out orders as they prepped for the elaborate dinner that would be served later tonight.

I saw the venue where my goddaughter would exchange vows with her soon-to-be husband. The ceilings soared, the roof mostly glass, and I imagined at sunset, the light was spectacular. Workers were draping boughs of flowers, carrying in arrangements, hanging tulle and tiny lights wrapped around branches. It would be lovely when finished, and I could appreciate the work behind the striking façade being created. Art didn’t exist only on canvases or in stone. It existed everywhere if you chose to look for it.

And I was always looking.

I could already see the theme. Carolina, my niece and goddaughter, was a free spirit. Wild in some ways. She loved nature, the outdoors, and hated formality. Her mother, Amanda, was the exact opposite. She adored structure, haute couture, pomp and ceremony, and everything my brother’s fortune could provide her. It appeared as though they had come to an agreement on the wedding, and a fancy woodland was being created everywhere. One that would never exist in nature, but extravagant enough to satisfy the mother and rustic enough to make the daughter content as well. It was a delicate balance.

I could only imagine the money my brother was spending to keep them both happy.

Not that he would care since he was crazy about both the women in his life.

I found the room for the reception and slipped inside. Easily holding three hundred guests, it was already set up for the evening. The tables were draped in linens—fine china, silverware, and crystal gleamed in the muted light. Fake trees, more flowers, lights, and moss-covered benches dotted the room. Material had been swathed overhead to look like a canopy of trees in the forest. The effect of the indoor woods was captivating, and I knew Carolina would love it. I walked the perimeter, mapping out the tables and pathways in my mind. I stopped and gazed in curiosity at the draped table in the corner and headed in that direction. The table held the wedding cake.

Except it was unlike any wedding cake I had ever seen. Rising from a fallen log, the cake appeared to be tiers of flowers, branches, and birch bark. So convincing I had to peer closely to ensure it wasn’t real. Extending from the same log were additional cakes. They were nestled among entwined branches, each a work of art, spectacular down to the knots on the trees. I counted a dozen large cakes in addition to the six-tiered tower. A few were multiple layers; some were smaller. I realized cupcakes were also set along the log, each one its own piece of art. The moss-covered tabletop was actually hundreds of tiny, decorated cupcakes. I had never seen a display like it, and I wondered at the team that must have created it.