Bella: Tag, you're it (Men of Steel Book 6)

by Mj Fields

  “After what you did to my back, I shouldn’t want to do this as badly as I do.”

  “But you can’t control it, can you?” He wraps his hand around my neck firmly but gently then bends down and kisses my lips before whispering against them, “Really fucking big, really fucking hard spoon.” He pushes me back then falls beside me face-first on the bed.

  “You’re kidding me, right?” I half-laugh, half-pout.

  “My word.” He rolls onto his side and sighs out, “My fucking word.”

  I reach up and touch his lips, running my fingers over them and back again. He gives me a less steamy … sweeter smile.

  “You have really pretty lips.”

  “Yeah?” he asks.

  I nod as I trace them. “Very kissable.”

  “You have an advantage there.” His lips curl up in the corners. “Two sets, equally as sexy.”

  I hold in the schoolgirl giggle I’m afraid will erupt.

  I rub my thumb over his eyebrow and down, gently making his eye close then the next. “Telling eyes, too.”

  “Only to those I want to know.”

  “To know what?” I whisper.

  “Everything,” he whispers back.

  I run my hands down his nose where the thin silver hoop hangs, his lips, his chin, his neck, between the two women tattooed on his neck. “Who are they?”

  He takes my hand and holds it, placing my fingers against his lips. “Not yet, Isabella Steel. Not yet.” He lightly pushes me to my back. “Be the little spoon and sleep before I fork the hell out of you.”

  Thirteen

  Breakfast

  Tags

  Sleeping next to the sweetest smelling, tastiest little thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of making a meal out of was heaven. Sliding out of bed away from her is hell. But I have to stick to the plan: get up, work out, and chat with Luna and Paula as I fuel up.

  I look back at her as she sleeps like a fucking baby. Then I open the door to the room and see the elevator opening across the way.

  Perfect timing.

  I whisper, “Good morning,” to the room service staff and slip him a twenty. “I’ll take it from here.”

  He nods, looking at me like everyone does—with nervousness, intimidated, sometimes scared as hell. Not gonna say I don’t like it, because I do.

  I wheel the cart in and put it beside the bed, looking at her one last time before leaving.

  Leaving a hotel room with a sleeping woman isn’t an oddity but leaving one like her is.

  Smiling to myself, I think about how much I like the fact that she’s not intimidated at all.

  Paula always told me, if they don’t look beyond the ink, they don’t deserve to see me. Then, when I decided to start lifting to release my anger, frustration, and all the shit that outweighed me, she laughed and said, “You’re gonna get the ones who want the arm candy.”

  She was right. Every woman with some sort of point to prove wants to date me. After Luna got to the point where she was sleeping through the night, I indulged.

  Sisco called them all Beverlys, because they all looked like they wanted to be from Beverly Hills, flashing around cash like they just sucked it out of Daddy’s wallet or some big daddy’s dick. It never bothered me that I didn’t have a fat wallet. Apparently, a fat cock is harder to find than a man with money in Manhattan. Didn’t hurt my pride one bit because, when they were on their backs or on all fours … I was the only daddy they were thinking of.

  Just like everything else that made me feel good, it became an addiction. Then, when Luna started asking questions about everything under the sun, she became more real to me. That was when it wasn’t about making sure she survived anymore; it was about making sure she could grow up proud, and I sure as fuck wasn’t proud of how I’d been living.

  Three women in three years offered to take care of me and my daughter, not one had anything to offer either of us that would have been lasting. Sure, I could have made it last—a good dick and a man who knew his word was more valuable than any trust fund was something they all said they wanted—but each one of them got the same goodbye: “Money can’t buy love.” All three professed theirs to me when they thought they’d lose me, but it didn’t change the fact that I didn’t love them.

  My entire workout, I think about what I want for Luna, and it all comes down to happiness and love.

  I can’t remember ever feeling as happy as I was with just me and Luna with any woman, but that all changed days ago.

  Isabella Steel, what are you doing to me?

  Walking back into my room, I find my bed empty. The food on the tray is untouched, and it irritates me a little because I wanted her to wake up to a meal and smile because I thought of her. It was a first for me.

  When I see the balcony door ajar, I head toward it. I hear her voice and push the curtain back.

  “It was a great first night.”

  I stop so I can hear more.

  “We’re taping today, and I’m sure, after we have a few episodes filmed, the executive producer will shop it.” Pause and then she laughs. “No, I’m starting at the bottom. A glorified babysitter for bad boys.” She laughs again at whatever the person she’s speaking to says. “They’re no worse than Dad and our uncles, Kiki.” Pause. “Love you, too. Make sure you get those uniforms ironed; school starts—” Pause, and then she gasps, “Katherine, language!”

  She’s a little momma, I laugh to myself.

  “Love you, too. Tell Max to remember he’s his own person and not to let the rest of you little thugs push him around.” Pause. “Allowing Justice to tattoo my finger wasn’t me joining the cult, Kiki. Remember, I’m OG generation next.”

  Who the fuck is Justice?

  She laughs. “It’s our secret.” Another pause as she looks over toward the doorway. “I’ll email you the itinerary as soon as I get off the phone, shower, and eat breakfast. Bye, Kiki. Love you.”

  After setting the phone down, she pops her hip out and places her hand on it. “Justice is my cousin.”

  “I really need to stop thinking out loud.” I step out.

  She tries not to smile as she rolls her eyes. “You better. Could you imagine?”

  I don’t hold back my smile. “You motherfuckers get to look at her, but I had my tongue in her pussy last—”

  She laughs out loud and smacks me. “I would kill you.”

  “You may want to, but you wouldn’t do that to yourself. I mean, can you imagine laying in my bed tonight, thinking of how much better my fingers are than yours?”

  “And who says I’m sleeping in your bed tonight? I’ll have fresh linens by then.”

  “But they won’t smell like me.”

  She quirks an eyebrow. “Right now, you don’t smell so hot, Carter.”

  I narrow my eyes at the sound of my name.

  She rolls hers, “Don’t look at me like that. I have us planned out.”

  “Six to nine months of fucking like bunnies in ten different cities? Me, too.” She scrunches up her nose, and she blushes. I like it.

  “You’re putting too much faith in this thing we’re doing.”

  “Is that so?” I ask.

  She nods. “It would be the longest secret relationship I’ve had.”

  I cock my head to the side, wondering about past relationships and why they’ve been secrets. “All the others so bad you had to hide them?”

  “It was either hide them or hide the bodies.” She shrugs. “My father’s pretty intense.”

  “Meaning what?” I feel my fists clench, and she looks down at them.

  Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “He’s protective.”

  “Then he and I would get along just fine.”

  “You’re not meeting my dad.” She laughs as she walks over and steps onto the chair.

  “You ashamed of me already?”

  She looks back. “No, but he and my mom two are the ones who discovered your little addition to my tattoo. Consider it a favor and do me one—he
lp me out.”

  I pull her off the chair and carry her ass inside. “You’re going to eat, because I’ve never given a shit if a girl I had in a hotel room got a meal after—”

  “I wasn’t looking for a meal,” she cuts me off. “I was looking for an orgasm.”

  I drop her on the bed. “You’ll get one, maybe two if you’re good.” I look back at her. “And I know you’re good.”

  “We’ll be late.” She blushes.

  “Oh, hell no, you’re still being denied for doing the same to me.” I push the food cart over. “I’ll feed you breakfast in bed now and my dick for dinner.”

  I pull the silver dome off one of the plates. “You like eggs, bacon, toast?” I pull the silver dome off the next. “Pancakes and fruit?” And the next. “French toast and pastries?”

  She reaches for a piece of bacon.

  “A carnivore.”

  “Mom two is a vegetarian.”

  She’s said that a couple of times now, so I ask, “Mom two?”

  She looks at me as she chews, a look that says she’s not sure she wants to share.

  “Part of your sad story?

  She swallows. “We all go through things that we could let ourselves drown in, or we swim. It’s just part of my life.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “My mom died giving birth to me at eighteen. My maternal grandfather hated my father and fought to keep me. They took him and our family to court until they lost everything. Then, when my dad’s father passed away, my father stopped fighting because he felt like it was his fault in a way. I was raised by my mom’s parents until my grandfather passed away and my grandmother no longer had to keep me from a man deemed not good enough for me. She knew he was, and she knew her husband was grieving my mother and afraid to let me go.”

  “It doesn’t piss you off?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m sorry everyone went through what they did, but that was part of their journey, their sad story. And I’m grateful that my father found someone to even him out.” She laughs. “Really grateful.”

  “Your tattoo, which one is mom two?”

  She smiles as she grabs half a hard-boiled egg. “She is love.”

  When my phone’s alarm goes off, I pry my eyes off the vision that is Isabella Steel and see my girl on Facetime. I hit accept.

  “The sun’s up, Daddy. Is the sun up there, too?”

  I laugh. “It is, Luna. We’re still in the same time zone.”

  When I stand up and turn, I hear a thud and look back to see Isabella on the floor.

  “What was that?” Luna asks.

  Bella looks mortified.

  I laugh. “It was breakfast.”

  “You dropped breakfast?”

  “Just the best part of it.”

  “The bacon?”

  “Best bacon I’ve ever tasted.”

  “Do you think the puppy will like bacon?”

  I can’t help laughing. “You’re persistent.” She looks at me like she’s a little confused, so I clarify, “Pushy.”

  “You promised.”

  “I did, and I won’t break my promise.”

  “Not again?”

  My chest tightens. “Not again.”

  “You going to work?”

  “I sure am.”

  “Love you, Daddy.”

  “Love you, too, Luna. Give the old lady a hug good morning.”

  “Talk before bed?”

  “How else would I know when the moon was ready to sleep?”

  She beams. “Love you, Daddy.”

  “Love you, Luna, all the way to the moon.”

  “And back.” She smiles.

  “Always back.”

  The call ends, and I walk around to see Bella lying on her back, covering her face.

  “Sure, she’s right here, Luna. Say hi, Bacon. I mean, Isabella.”

  She gasps as she uncovers her face, and if looks could kill, I’d be dead.

  I toss the phone on the bed and laugh.

  The girl must have been a gymnast, because she pops up quicker than shit and pushes me. “That’s not funny.”

  I purposely fall on the bed and bring her down with me.

  Before I can say a damn thing, she asks, “Not again. What did she mean when she asked that?”

  “Sweet treat, you don’t get to know all the things yet.” I sit up, bringing her along with me.

  “Why?”

  I like the way she holds my face, like if she keeps my eyes locked to hers, I’ll give her the answer she seeks.

  “Because I don’t know if I should trust you with everything.”

  She scowls. “You did some shit to my body without permission, and you don’t know if you can trust me?”

  “I did, didn’t I?”

  Her scowl deepens.

  I stand up, and she sets her feet on the floor.

  “Probably not gonna ask permission for a lot of things I do to your body over the next few months; you’ll adjust.”

  “I’ll adjust?” she huffs.

  “God, I hope so. I can’t wait to slide inside you with no resistance.”

  “Understood.” She shrugs then turns her back to me.

  I’m not sure why that makes me uneasy, but it does.

  I follow her outside.

  Still giving me her back, she says, “Now help me over.”

  And just like that, she’s gone.

  My chats with Luna aren’t lengthy, but they’re frequent. Morning and evening and sometimes midafternoon. Right now, she’s still in school for a couple of weeks, then she starts day camp. Reading is going to be a real struggle, so she’s enrolled in a summer enrichment program. Thank God she loves school, or I’d feel even more like shit than I already do about not being there for her.

  After shoving a few more bites to eat in my mouth, I head to the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day.

  Walking out of the hotel, I see the line of three SUVs parked and ready for us. I make it just in time to see Bella getting into Mara’s vehicle, and the feeling of unease consumes me as I hop in the one leaving behind her.

  “Good morning, Tags,” David says before putting the vehicle in drive.

  I nod. “Let’s make it a good one.”

  Fourteen

  Mayhem

  Bella

  Sitting in the vehicle with her, I can’t help staring at the back of her head and wanting to grab fistfuls of her weave so I can bash her head against the window in hopes of knocking some sense into her. It’s bad enough she won’t sign the papers and let Tags—Carter—end a marriage she has long abandoned, but the bitch has abandoned her child, too.

  “You gotta problem, Izzy?”

  You, bitch, my problem is you, and the nearly uncontrollable desire to fuck you up, I think, but just smile instead. “The sun’s up, Mara; it’s a beautiful day.”

  I can’t see a thing past the lenses of her black sunglasses, but I feel the glare. Oddly, I don’t give a damn.

  The feeling’s mutual, bitch, I think as I look at her.

  “So, who’s getting the new girl?”

  I look over at Grimm. “My name’s Bella.”

  “Fresh meat gets Maze, you, Axel, and Ranger,” Mara answers as she guns it through a yellow light.

  “You get Neo and Tags?” Grimm, the pasty white, completely bald man with colorfully tattooed skulls, asks.

  If you only knew how fucked up that was, Que Ball, I think.

  “Not fair, Miss Mayhem.”

  I look back and see Maze shaking his head.

  “It’s a non-elimination week,” she says dryly. “Plus, it’s none of your fucking business, Maze.”

  “So, it’s not just me, huh?” I ask Grimm.

  “No, she’s a pocket full of posies to all around her.”

  Pocket full of posies? Um … weird.

  Typically, a producer overseas all aspects of video production, makes executive decisions, and handles getting the money it takes to pull off a show, contract
s, and budgeting. I’m too late in the game for that, and in Reality TV, it’s different. I’m basically here to pull out the story of the cast members I’m charged with and … babysit. In order to pull that off, I need them to trust me and be able to open up to me, the client, and make themselves likeable … or the villain of the show.

  “So, it’s your studio?” I ask, knowing damn well it is, but I’m making small talk, because this is work, and no matter how much I dislike her, we need to be able to get through several months together. Plus, the old adage, keep your enemies closer, isn’t used all the time because it’s an ineffective way of dealing with them.

  “You’re a regular Sherlock Holmes, aren’t you?” she huffs.

  Bitch.

  “Does that make you my Watson?”

  As the SUV erupts in laughter, she slams on the brakes. “Let’s get one thing straight; I’m never gonna be your bitch. You’re just filling a position. So, fill it and shut the hell up.”

  “Easy,” Neo says from the passenger seat. “You push her out and we’re delayed even more. I got shit lined up after this thing tanks.”

  Maze sighs. “The energy in this place is getting negative.”

  I look back and wink. “You want change, you gotta make it.”

  Mara hits the gas, and the tires squeal. “I really can’t deal with your shit this early in the morning.”

  I wink at Grimm and whisper, “Do you feel the love? I do. I feel the love.”

  To that, he smirks and no longer looks so … grim.

  “Tell me about you.”

  “Why?” he asks, no longer smiling.

  “My job is to make sure the real you is shown to the hopefully millions of people watching, in your art and your personality. My job is to help you win.”

  “I don’t care if I win; I just want to work.” He turns his head and looks out the tinted window.

  Hearing the depth in his voice, it’s evident that he has a story, but he offers no more. I don’t want to push on day one. I need him to feel comfortable with me, to trust me. So, I give him the emotional space he seems to need.