Love Me Like You Do: Books That Keep You In Bed

by Fields, MJ

“Thank God you are okay,” she cries.

  “Of course I am.” I look to Tony. “What’s happening?”

  “I think we all need to sit down in the study.” Papa corrals us, and once everyone is seated, he explains, “Tonight, there was an attack on the Scutari family. While leaving dinner at Amici, Cross’s father, Marcello, and his brother Emilio were gunned down. His father is still alive but seriously injured and in critical condition. Emilio, however, did not make it.”

  I tightly squeeze Cross’s hand and look over to see he has gone completely pale. Una is now sobbing into his grandfather’s jacket, and Mamma is clinging to Lorenzo.

  Papa gives it a moment to let what he just said sink in and then continues, “Atelo was making a business run in Queens. He, too, was shot at from a passing vehicle, but he was able to take cover and slip away, unharmed.” He turns to me with panicked eyes. “That’s when we started frantically looking for you two. Ah, bambina, I have died a thousand deaths tonight.”

  “Why, Papa? Why is this happening?”

  “We are not sure. There has been some … unrest … lately, and Marcello has made a few enemies.”

  I was raised in this life, and nothing like this has ever touched us. I know that Papa and Mamma have sheltered me. I look to Mamma, and I see it. I see in her eyes all that she wasn’t telling me when she sent me to live with Aunt Mitzi. She wasn’t just worried about my heart; she was worried about my safety if I were with Cross.

  My mind is awhirl with questions. I clear my throat and ask Papa, “What do we do now?”

  “First, we get you somewhere safe.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  Mamma is the one who answers in a small, angry voice, “Because, sweetheart, everyone knows you belong to Christoff now, and if they want to hurt him, they know they can do it through you.”

  “Why would they want to hurt Cross? He doesn’t have anything to do with this. He doesn’t work for his father. He’s not a soldier like Emilio and Atelo.” I’m growing more and more frantic as I try to make sense of it all.

  Cross speaks, looking at the floor, “Because I am the only one left. If they want control of Scutari territory, of Scutari business, then they want to wipe out anyone who might challenge them.” He looks up and meets Papa’s eyes. “You will protect her?”

  “I will protect her.” Papa nods.

  Cross stands. “Take me to my father.”

  I stand, too, and grab his hand. I’m going with him. No way am I letting him face all of this alone. His father might not make it. Emilio is dead. We have no idea where Atelo is.

  “I’m going with you.”

  “No, Tesoro. You have to stay here and do what your father and brothers tell you to do.”

  I look around the room at all the somber faces. They will stop me.

  “No. I go where you go. That’s the deal now,” I protest.

  He takes my hand and pulls me out of the study and into Papa’s office. “Gabby, baby, I need you to stay here, please. I have to go and check on my father, and I have to find Atelo. I can’t be worried about you on top of that. Please, I promise that I’ll come get you as soon as I can.”

  I wrap my arms around him. I am scared. I have never been this scared before. What if he walks out that door and someone starts shooting at him? I would rather us both be gunned down than to lose him.

  “What if something happens to you?”

  “It won’t.”

  “You don’t know that,” I insist.

  He tightly holds me for a few moments, kissing my forehead over and over again. Then, he pries my arms open and deposits me into Una’s waiting arms.

  “I will be back soon. I promise.”

  Tony and Stavros flank him.

  “We are going with you, Cross. Lo and Nicco are staying here with Gabby and Mamma, and our grandparents. Papa is headed to meet with the other family heads.”

  “I appreciate it,” he says as he grips Tony’s hand and then Stavros’s.

  At least he won’t be alone. He heads for the door, and Tony stops at me.

  “I’ll make sure he’s okay, cara. I promise.”

  I nod to him, and they all walk out.

  We huddle in the living room, like we are waiting out a storm. All of us women. Adriana and her mother showed up about an hour after the boys left. Adi’s father was one of the men meeting with Papa, and he sent them to us with an armed guard. Nonno, Nicco, Lorenzo, and Cross’s grandfather are drinking brandy and keeping their eyes and ears open. Mamma and Nonna and Una made sandwiches and coffee and brought down blankets and pillows for everyone. Adi and I have been curled up together on the sofa and watching the news, waiting to see if anything will be reported.

  It has been the longest night of my life. I keep my phone tucked close to my side, and I check it every few minutes for any word from Cross. I want to call or text him, but I know I can’t. He doesn’t need me to add to his worries right now.

  Sometime around three a.m., I must drift off to sleep.

  I rouse when a hand runs through my hair. I look up, and Cross is standing there. He looks exhausted. He looks grief-stricken. I get to my knees. I pull him into my arms, and I hold him. I hold him while he weeps silently. I hold him while he accepts what has happened. I hold him as my own heart shatters into a million pieces because I know—I just know—nothing will ever be the same again.

  Thirty-Five

  Brie - Present

  Cassian’s first birthday party is over-the-top amazing. Melanie and I really outdid ourselves. I even hired a professional photographer to capture the entire event. It is my gift, being as the child already has more toys than he could ever play with. She captures every precious moment—from his arrival and the excited look on his little face when he sees the gumball balloons to his eyes dancing and him clapping as everyone sings “Happy Birthday” to him before Rick helps him blow out his candle to the epic mess that is him after we strip him down to his diaper and let him have full access to his smash cake. Unfettered joy—his, his parents’, and mine.

  How did a year go by so quickly? It seems like only yesterday I was introduced to this miraculous little bundle, and now, he has a mouth full of teeth and is only days or weeks from taking his first steps. I really hope I’m there the day he decides to take off on his own two feet. Melanie jokes that, if he stands up and she thinks he is about to take a step, she will gently push him down if I am not around.

  After I help Melanie clean up and bathe Cassian and rock him to sleep, Jake comes to pick me up.

  I mentioned once that I wanted to visit Wild Horse Winery & Vineyards because they made my favorite pinot noir. Turns out, Paso Robles is drivable from Santa Monica, so we are headed there for the long weekend to enjoy a few wine tours and some much-needed alone time. Between my jobs, school, Nicco being in the house, and Jake’s work schedule, it has been hard to spend more than a few stolen moments together here and there.

  “There’s my girl.” He plants a kiss on my lips as he takes my overnight bag from my hands and places it in the trunk of his car.

  Every time he pulls up in this car, a thrill shoots through me, and now, we get to take the top down and drive up the coast. I’m so excited.

  “How long is the drive?”

  “About three and a half hours if we take I-5, but I was thinking of taking the long way and stopping in Malibu for dinner. What do you say? Are you up for a long adventure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Thirty minutes later, we are pulling into a place off the PCH called Moonshadows. It’s a spectacular seafood restaurant with a large outdoor dining area that is built on stilts and into the ocean. Jake reserved us one of the large outdoor beds that overlooks the water. It’s dark out, and the deck is softly lit in blue lights. The water is lapping up and splashing on the Plexiglass that surrounds us. It’s so romantic.

  “How exactly are we supposed to eat dinner on this bed, Jake Mason?”

  “The server will bring the food out on large tr
ays; don’t worry.”

  “How did you find this place?”

  “My dad used to bring us a lot when we were kids. We have a beach house in Malibu, and we would come up and spend the summers. Every year, on our way in and out, we would stop here. I remember how exciting it was for us, being able to watch the dolphins play while we ate dinner. Look out there.” He points out into the dark sea. “Can you see them? They always stay close.”

  I come up to my knees and search the water. I finally see the fins. “Wow, that is so cool. They are beautiful.”

  “So are you,” he says, looking up at me.

  After dinner, we keep heading north. The drive is breathtaking. The California coastline really is something to see. We finally make it to Paso Robles around nine o’clock, and we check in to our hotel. The Paso Robles Inn is a quaint hideaway with beautiful rooms featuring large spa tubs on private balconies. As soon as we unload our bags, I walk out to check out the tub. A nice long soak sounds amazing right now. I turn the water on to let it fill, and I’m instantly hit with the foulest smell imaginable.

  “Jake,” I call, “I think something died in the pipes.”

  He walks out with an amused look on his face. “Nothing died. That’s just the water.”

  “It smells like rotten eggs. Do you not smell that?”

  “Paso Robles is known for its hot springs. The water for the tubs is fed straight from them.”

  “Okaaay, I know exactly what hot springs are—we had one in our backyard back in New York—but this water smells rancid. It’s not supposed to smell that way.”

  “Yes, it is. These hot springs are sulfur springs. Not all hot springs have a high mineral content, but the ones in this area do. The people here believe the sulfur has medicinal properties, and bathing in the water is supposed to be very therapeutic.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Ew, gross. Who would want to get in it? I don’t think I would last long.”

  He makes his way to me and wraps me in his arms. “You will love it, and after ten minutes in the water, you don’t smell it at all anymore.”

  “Really? So, we will smell horrific, but we won’t notice?”

  He laughs. “Something like that.”

  “I don’t know. Couldn’t we have just gotten a room with a normal-smelling hot tub with regular water?”

  “No, ma’am. You have to have the full Paso experience, and bathing in putrid water that makes you feel better and possibly cures cancer is one of the highlights.”

  “All right, but if I puke, it’s your fault, and you have to take care of me without complaint.”

  “Terms accepted.”

  I step out of his arms and start to remove my jeans. He stands there, intently watching me.

  “Aren’t you getting in, too?” I ask.

  “Yes. I just want to look at you for a minute. Do you realize, this is the first time we have been completely alone?”

  I haven’t thought about it, but he is right.

  “Well, Mr. Mason, what will we ever do to entertain ourselves?”

  He lunges for me, and I squeal and run around the other side of the tub.

  “Nowhere to hide, pretty girl. You are all mine tonight.”

  I remove the rest of my clothes and toss them at him as he prowls toward me. I’m cornered, so I don’t even bother to fight, I let him pick me up in one fell swoop and deposit me in the water. Then, he quickly undresses and joins me.

  “So, do you still smell it?”

  “No, but I think it’s because the fumes have burned the lining of my nose out.”

  “Complaining, complaining. You are going to wake up tomorrow, feeling amazing, and you will be thanking me.”

  “I certainly hope it’s not just the water that has me waking up, feeling amazing.”

  He lifts an eyebrow at my innuendo. “Oh, I can think of a few things that I can do to aid the water in making you feel all kinds of good, Miss Masters. In fact, why don’t we get out of this tub and into the shower now, so I can show you some of them?”

  He stands and offers me his hand, and then he helps me from the tub. We go back inside and immediately to the shower to wash off the stench. Jake stands in front of the spray and starts to wash his hair first. It affords me the opportunity to appreciate his backside. I run my hands around him and up his chest while I trail kisses up his back. He lets my hands explore for a while, and then he rinses and turns to face me.

  “Time to clean you up,” he says as he lathers his hands with soap. Then, he starts to wash every square inch of me. Once he has me thoroughly clean, he places me under the spray to rinse, and then he leans over me with his hand resting on the stall above my head. “I want so badly to lift you up against this shower wall and fuck you until you are screaming my name.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  “Because this is real life, and I would probably lose my footing and drop you to the floor and knock myself out on the way down. I can’t have that be the memory you always carry of our first time together.”

  I start giggling at the visual. The movies always make shower sex seem so easy and hot, but the truth is, the mechanics can be tricky. At least the foreplay of the shower is pretty damn spectacular all on its own.

  “Then, why don’t we get out and see if your luck fares better in that big ole bed out there?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  We get out and towel off, making sure to tease each other as we do.

  * * *

  He kept his promise. I will wake up in the morning, feeling all kinds of good, but for now, I leave him lightly snoring and sneak out to the balcony on silent feet. Tonight was incredible, everything I thought it would be. Jake is sweet and patient, and every touch, every kiss, and every stroke was gentle. He played my body like a well-oiled instrument. The weight of it hit me after we were both sated, and I was cuddled in his side, so I had to escape before the tears came, before he heard me mourn, because, tonight, the last tie that bound me to the past was snapped in two. The last thing that made me his and only his. Now, I am truly and wholly Brie Masters.

  I cry for what feels like hours. It is cathartic. Once I have it all out of my system, I return to the room. I return to Jake, wrapped in blankets, peacefully dreaming away. This is my future and exactly where I want to be. I tiptoe back to the side of the bed and crawl under the covers with him.

  He stirs. “Hey, baby. Where did you go?”

  “I just had to pee,” I whisper, and then I quickly kiss his lips. “Go back to sleep.”

  He pulls me close and tucks me into his side. Within a few minutes, he is back in a deep sleep. I snuggle even closer and close my eyes, exhaustion drawing me under, and for the first night in a long time, I do not dream of Gabby.

  Thirty-Six

  Gabby - Past

  The disruption in both our families has been excruciating. We buried Cross’s oldest brother last week. His father is still recuperating from a gunshot wound with bullet fragments lodged in his spine, which have left him paralyzed from the waist down. Atelo has left the country and will probably never resurface. Neither Cross nor Papa will tell me the details on what happened to cause this domino effect. All I know is that Papa has taken Cross under his wing, and the two are constantly in meetings. I have barely laid eyes on Cross in weeks.

  After the shootings, he had my things moved back to my parents’ house. I protested, but he said that he was going to be away a lot, dealing with the aftermath, and he did not want me staying in the loft alone. So, for his peace of mind, I relented.

  Now, from the kitchen, I hear his voice in Papa’s study, and I go to him.

  “Hi,” I say as I softly knock at the entryway to the study. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  He is seated across from Papa and Adriana’s father, and he doesn’t even look my way when he speaks, “We are busy right now, Gabby.”

  I come fully into the room. “Busy with what? For how long? I would like to speak to you.”

  “Not now, Gab
riella. We are in the middle of something,” Papa answers, and it infuriates me. I wasn’t addressing him.

  “In the middle of what exactly?” I raise my voice, which I rarely do to my papa.

  Adriana’s father sternly looks at Papa. “Is she going to be a problem?”

  She? Is he referring to me? How am I a problem?

  “No,” Cross and Papa say at the same time.

  “I will handle this, gentlemen. Please give me a moment.”

  Cross gets up and crosses the room toward me. When he gets close, he takes my arm and briskly leads me to the kitchen, out of earshot. His touch is hard and cold. He has never touched me like this before. When we get to the kitchen, I wrench myself from his hold.

  “Were you going to even tell me you were here?” I accuse. “I haven’t heard from you in days. Days, Cross. And here you are, under my roof, and you don’t even bother to tell me.”

  “This isn’t a social call, Gabby. It’s business.”

  “Business. Right. Everything is business lately. And since when am I a social call? I’m not a social call. I am your girlfriend. The one you are in love with, remember?”

  He looks away for a minute, and when he turns back to me, his face has softened. “I’m sorry, Tesoro. Everything has been chaotic, and I haven’t had a moment to breathe. I don’t mean to treat you like you don’t matter. It’s just … other things are more pressing right now.”

  “More important than seeing me?”

  He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and presses his forehead to mine. “Not more important, just more pressing.”

  I feel the tears welling up, and I’m trying to keep them at bay. I know this has been hard for him, and I don’t want to add to the boulder on his shoulders.

  “You feel clammy. Are you okay?” he asks with concern evident in his voice.

  “I have been sick for a couple of days now. Papa had a doctor come out yesterday. He is so paranoid right now. He wouldn’t let Nonna take me to the doctor’s office. I feel like a prisoner here.”