Moonlight streams in as she yanks open the warehouse door and disappears into the night.
I DON’T KNOW what possessed me to walk through that door and do what I just did. I had no desire to see Gio, Rick, or Dante ever again, but I also had this overwhelming knowledge that if I didn’t walk in there and confront my demons head on then I wouldn’t be able to start the healing process, and if I ever wanted to put the last week behind me and have a chance of a future with Braxton then I needed to heal. And I had to make sure those bastards paid with their life.
Antonio is pacing a line in the pavement as I make my way back toward the ambulance where I left him. His head shoots up at the sound of my approaching footsteps.
“You’re going to get me killed,” he accuses, pointing a finger in my direction. His mouth opens like he wants to say more but shuts at the expression on my face. He opens his arms, his fingers bending in a ‘come here’ gesture and I rush into them, not realizing I’m crying until I feel the wetness on his shirt under my cheek. “I’m sorry, baby girl. We should’ve gotten here sooner.”
“I’m just glad you guys came at all,” I manage between hiccups. “I was beginning to think…” I shut my eyes against the ambush of memories, and the thoughts that ran through my head the past week.
“I know what you were thinking, baby girl, and I don’t want you to ever entertain that thought. Braxton… he will come for you. No matter where you are, he’ll come for you. There’s no mountain high enough, no ocean wide enough that he will not fight to make sure you’re back in his arms.” His arms tighten around my heaving body. “Alessandro and I… we’ll be right there with him.”
“But why though, Antonio? You barely know me.” My voice comes out muffled against his shirt.
“Know all I need to. Never seen Braxton the way he was this week. He was ready to trade himself for you, baby girl. Ready to give up all he’s known for you… ready to die for you.”
My head rises and falls with the rhythm of his breathing. Antonio takes in a deep breath, hands on my shoulders, and gently pushes me away so he can get a better look at my face. “Klara, Braxton isn’t an easy man to love. He wants you to be his, but after this week he’ll either push you further away, or he’ll pull you close and be even more of a possessive, arrogant bastard. If he pushes you away, you fight for him, yeah? You don’t give up on him.”
“And if he pulls me in?”
Antonio grins. “You give him hell. He’ll want eyes on you all the time, he won’t be able to focus until he knows where you are. Give him that for the first bit, but don’t let the bastard walk over you. He’ll loosen up when he realizes you’re not going anywhere.”
I cross my arms under my chest. “I’m not going anywhere, Antonio. I still want him as much as I did two years ago. He may have forgotten about me, but I never… not once… forgot about him.”
“He never forgot about you, Klara. Why do you think we’re here?”
I shrug. “Because Dante sent him my picture and he felt guilty? I honestly don’t know anymore.”
“His ex did a number on him when she left like she did, but Braxton… he loves you. Dante realized Braxton’s feelings for you before Braxton did himself. He’ll never be able to live with himself if anything happened to you.”
“Braxton doesn’t love me. He pushed me away all those years ago.”
“Si, but I do love you, Mia Bella. It just took me a long time to realize it.”
I freeze at the sound of his voice. Antonio’s grin grows into a full smile that I want to slap off his face. “You knew he was there?”
He nods, leaning back against the side of the ambulance, a smug look on his face. I narrow my eyes at him, letting him know that he’ll be paying for that later, and then turn around to face my fate.
“It took two years and me getting kidnapped for you to realize that you love me?”
I don’t know why my bitch mode is activated right now. This man just saved me from hell, the least I could do was thank him and be grateful.
Slowly, deliberately, he runs a thumb over his bottom lip. A slow half grin pulling at the corner of those lips. “I’m a slow learner.”
“More like ancient,” I mumble under my breath.
Braxton stalks toward me. I notice, not for the first time, how I love the way his muscles move under his shirt. Then he’s standing right in front of me, his hands in my hair, his breath on my face.
“Did you just sass me, Mia Bella?”
I close my eyes, leaning into his touch, trying to soak up as much of his heat as humanly possible. “Mmhm.” I hum, the events of the past week suddenly catching up to my body and my adrenaline of the last couple hours slowly dwindling away. We stand in the middle of the chaos in the parking lot, Braxton’s arms folded around me, my fingers clutching the fabric of the shirt at his back as my eyes slowly droop closed.
Before I know it, I’m cradled in his arms, my head against his chest and my arms securely around his neck. Safely in Braxton’s arms, sleep comes fast.
THE WOMAN BURIED against my chest is small, barely fitting in the fold of my arms. She can’t be much older than eighteen. She’s all skin and bone, her face sunken. What I’m assuming was once a shiny halo of chocolate brown hair is now dull and lifeless.
I don’t want to give her up. Something in me is pleading for us to keep her, to encase her in a protective bubble so nothing else can hurt her ever again. I know I can’t offer her the medical attention she needs though, and after watching what Braxton went through with Klara, I know without a doubt that this life is no place for a woman. Not one who has the potential to make me care more than I’d like.
Reluctantly, I place her in the waiting ambulance. Another perk of having the entire city on the boss’s payroll is having all the emergency response vehicles at your beck and call with no questions asked, but when she grips my hand in hers I can’t bring myself to let go.
Her emerald eyes plead with me to not let go. I’m captivated by them, by the haunted look in their depths, by the flecks of gold swirling in them.
“Are you coming with us?” one of the paramedics asks hesitantly.
Closing my eyes, I let out a fast breath and slip my hand from hers. Already regretting my decision when I open them and see the tears pooling in her eyes as her hand falls away.
Shaking my head, I try and convey how sorry I am without words and then do the last thing I want and turn my back on her.
I’ll forever be haunted by the girl with the emerald eyes.
TAKING A DEEP breath, I pull my shoulders back as I look up at the massive house in front of me, realizing for the first time I’ve been able to take in the front of the house. The other times I was here we drove right into the four-car garage and I only caught glimpses of the outside through the window.
House is putting what sits in front of me mildly. It’s huge, like sticks out like a sore thumb in the city huge. I smirk at myself. That was probably his idea when he had it built. I mentally give myself a shake, I’m not here to stare at the gorgeous monstrosity in front of me, but my feet don’t move. Thankfully, my best friend must sense my hesitation through some sort of bestie telepathic connection because my phone vibrates in my pocket a second later.
Dri: You got this!
Me: What if he’s changed his mind?
Dri: He hasn’t. And he’d be an idiot if he has.
When I woke up in the hospital, Dri was the only one there. She spent many nights curled up on those crappy visitor chairs in the hospital room, or wrapped around me when I couldn’t stand the sight of her body contorted in weird angles in the chair. It took her awhile to confess to me that it scared the shit out of her when she found out I was missing. It terrified her even more when I later divulged that Rick was behind my kidnapping. I was beyond grateful to hear that she was never touched. I think that had mostly to do with her never being at our apartment and spending nights with Matt. Dri said she couldn’t stand to be alone in that apartment after wh
at happened to me. She also made it clear that, that meant in no way were the two of them together. I smirk, knowing that it was only a matter of time before Matt broke down her walls.
Through the last month, Dri barely left my side. She went full mama bear mode on me; making sure I was okay, that I ate, that the bruises were healing. She made me talk about what happened in that building, and although I hated reliving it I knew it was a necessary evil in my road to healing. But never, not once, did Braxton come see me.
I haven’t seen Braxton in almost a month, since the day he rode in the ambulance with me to the hospital. The only communication with him being the random texts in the middle of the night, or care packages sent from his mom delivered by Alessandro. I think they both feel guilty for not knowing Gio had played us all. More so them than me. I mean, he did befriend me and try to gain my confidence in order to kidnap me, but he pretended to be part of their family for years. Worked alongside them. Killed alongside them. That’s why I gave Braxton his space, and tried not to take it personally when he never came to see me. Antonio’s words replay in my head.
If he pushes you away, you fight for him, yeah? You don’t give up on him.
So here I am, standing outside his house, ready to fight for him. It’s been thirty days, and I’m tired of waiting. I take an anxious step forward, and another, and another, until I’m staring at the doorbell next to the front door.
Before I can lift a finger to ring it, the front door swings open revealing Braxton’s mother standing on the other side, dark as night hair pinned in a neat bun on top her head, her usual apron tied around her middle, one hand on her hip, the other holding the door open.
“It’s about time you showed up,” she scolds, narrowing her eyes at me as I hesitantly stand on the other side of the door.
“Um—”
“I was expecting you sooner.” She cuts me off. “You never fazed me as the type of girl to take any shit, especially from my son. He needs a strong woman.” She opens the door wider, motioning for me to come in.
“I, uh…” I take a couple tentative steps forward, not really sure what the right thing to say is, or what to say at all, really. “He never, uh…” I sigh, not getting anywhere with my words. When I look up at his mom, there’s a huge smile plastered on her face.
“He’s been holed up in that office of his for quite some time.” She tips her head to the side indicating the door down the hall. “Maybe you’re just the person to entice him out.” She pats my arm lovingly, and then retreats back into the kitchen, but not before calling out that dinner will be done shortly.
Well, it’s now or never, Klara.
I slowly make my way down the hall. Mentally preparing myself for what I may find on the other side. After all, the last time I was making my way toward one of Braxton’s office doors, the scene I walked in on was not one I care to relive. Ever.
I knock, my knuckles rasping against the wood three times before I twist the handle and push my way inside. I was ready for anything, ready to face anything that awaited me when I walked into his office. Anything but the scene in front of me.
Braxton is hunched forward in the seat behind his desk, his elbows on his knees. A glass tumbler of amber liquid dangling from the tips of his fingers. A hand running through his hair, his head bowed, eyes trained on the ground.
He looks… broken, but so was I and I needed him.
“So, that’s it? You’re just going to run away again? Un-fucking-believable.”
“Leave, Klara.” His tone is sharp, meant to hurt.
This is exactly what Antonio warned me about. That Braxton would try to push me further away, but I’m not going to let him this time. He never stopped fighting to save me, so I refuse to stop fighting for him.
“No.”
“You shouldn’t have to see me like this.” He tips his head back, taking another gulp of the liquor, but never lifting his eyes from their downward gaze.
“You don’t always have to be the strong one, Brax. You’re allowed a moment of weakness every now and then, but your done running away when shit gets hard.”
His glass goes flying through the air as he shoots up out of his seat. I try not to jump at the sound of the glass shattering, instead choosing to focus on his bare chest heaving, the skin turning red. “I’m the Don, Klara. I’m always supposed to be fucking strong. If I showed even one second of weakness, people around me start dying. You almost died because I was weak.”
“No,” I argue, walking further into the room, closer to him. “I almost died because your cousin couldn’t handle the fact that you’re a better head of the family than he ever hoped to be.” I round the desk on shaking legs until I’m toe-to-toe with my monster. “Because they were afraid of the amount of power you wield, of what you could do to them.” I reach up, linking my hands behind his head and forcing his forehead down to rest against mine. “What happened to me was not your fault, Braxton.”
We’re quiet for a long time, but the question I’ve been needing the answer to is eating away at me.
“Why did you tell me? That you’re the head of the Mafia?”
“Because the less you knew about me the better. I told you this life wasn’t safe, Klara. There’ll always be people who think they can take me down and that threat extends to you if you’re by my side. I saw my ma live through it my whole life, I was not going to make you do the same. If you died in that building…”
“I didn’t die. You saved me.”
“What if I’m too late next time?” He tries to hide the crack in his voice, but I heard it. And everything clicks in to place.
He was too late to save his sister, the one other person he loved more in this world and he never forgave himself for it. None of what happened to his sister was his fault, but Braxton carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and it was pointless in telling him that he didn’t have to feel guilty for his sister’s death. He needed to come to that conclusion himself.
I don’t know how to answer his question because he’s right. There could be a next time, and that should scare me but it surprisingly doesn’t. What scares me is the possibility of going another two years without him. Of not being in his arms twenty, thirty years from now. So, I don’t answer him. Instead, I hold onto him tighter.
His hands slide around my waist, gripping the fabric at my lower back and pull me forward crushing me into his chest. He dips his head, burying his nose in the crook of my neck, and I can breathe a little easier because this feels like home. This man feels like my home. A man who wears his darkness like a crown of glory, a man I should be running far away from instead of clinging to.
“Not ever going to let you go again, Mia Bella.”
“I don’t want you to let go, Braxton.”
We stand like this for a while, gripping onto each other, neither one wanting to be the first to let go. Crying together. Grieving for the parts of us that were lost over the last several weeks, well the last few years. And ready to accept that we’ll never have to go at life alone again, that we’ll always have each other.
Before I’m fully ready to move on, there is one thing I need Braxton to do.
“I need you to erase his hands from my body. Need you to replace his touch with your own,” I whisper into his shoulder, and feel the vibration of the growl in his chest.
Braxton takes hold of my hand, leading me out of the office and down the hall. He says something to his mother about being late for dinner before he’s pulling me up the stairs and shutting his bedroom door behind us.
***
(Braxton)
“Do you remember your safe word, baby?”
Her lips part slightly and she nods. She looks fucking beautiful with her hands bound above her head with my crimson red silk tie, and the black blindfold covering her eyes, taking up half her face.
“Good. Now, lay still,” I command.
“Brax…” Her breaths are getting heavier, the lower my lips skim her torso, down her belly to place
kisses at the apex of her thighs.
“Hmm, I can smell your arousal, Klara.” I run my nose up her slit, inhaling her scent and causing her to shiver.
“Brax, please,” she begs, little mewls leaving her throat as my lips just barely skim where she wants me.
“You want my mouth, baby?”
“Yes,” she pants, spreading her legs further for me.
I nip the insides of her thighs and then lean over her, tugging her earlobe between my teeth before whispering, “not yet.”
Klara groans and I chuckle, running my tongue over her collar bone and nipping that spot where her shoulder meets her neck. My fingers gentle gliding down the side of her breast, down her ribs, her leg before working their way back up the inside.
She arches into me, a silent plea for me to touch her, to grant her the release she’s so desperately craving. But I won’t. Not yet.
I’m still getting used to having my girl back in my arms after she was ripped away from me. I need to savor the feel of her skin under my fingers a little while longer to make sure I really do have her back.
I lick up her neck while my fingers continue their assault; running one down her slit, inserting just the tip, only to withdraw again and circle her clit. I repeat the motion over and over again while kissing that sweet spot behind her ear that awards me with a shiver every. Damn. Time. And it doesn’t disappoint.
“Dammit,” Klara huffs. “I don’t want sweet, and I don’t want gentle right now, Braxton. I don’t want you to make love to me. I need you to fuck me. I need it rough, Brax. I need it violent. I need you…unleashed.” Her pleading pale eyes find my dark ones. “Fuck me. Make me scream. Mark my skin. Just please, make me forget,” she pants, bucking into my hand when it draws near to her slit again.
I pull back, grip her hips, and flip her onto her stomach. Pulling her up onto all fours and leaning my front into her back, my one hand snakes around to grip her throat, while my other tugs at a nipple.
“You want rough, Mia Bella?” I growl in her ear. “You want violent? You want to unleash the monster, Klara?” I buck my hips, my cock rubbing up the seam of her luscious ass.
Dark Desire (Famiglia Book 1) Page 15