Honor (Made Book 1)

by Melissa Ellen

  “Answer the question,” I demanded, the words ragged, feeling like they were ripped from my throat.

  “You already know the answer.”

  My muscles bunched, straining against my clothes. My eyes lifted from her as I scanned the bar for any familiar faces. Gabe and the friend were the only ones who posed a problem, but the two of them were already in a lip lock, their attention solely on each other. Still holding Lena’s hand, I pulled her through the overcrowded bar toward the secluded corridor that led to the rear exit. Once the dark hallway concealed us, I turned her, pressing her back against the wall, pinning her with a hand on her hip and an arm draped over her head.

  “You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you leave here with some fucking stranger.”

  “And you’re crazy if you really think I plan to leave here with anybody but you.” She drove a pointed finger into my pec.

  “Lena—”

  “No,” she interrupted. “Don’t tell me all the reasons we can’t. I know them better than anyone. I don’t care. I want you, Mario. I’m tired of pretending like there’s nothing between us.”

  “Why all of a sudden?”

  “Is it really all of a sudden? This thing between us has been growing for years. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” I sighed, roughing a hand over my head.

  Her gaze fell to our feet. “He’s decided,” she said so faintly I barely heard her through the loud noise surrounding us.

  With a gentle nudge of my fist, I forced her to look at me again. “Who?” It felt like an act of God to make myself ask even the one-word question.

  She held my gaze as she swallowed her apprehension. “Lorenzo.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know. I overheard them speaking in his office on my way out. He hasn’t actually said anything to me, but he will.”

  I turned my head from staring at the tears welling in her deep green eyes to look back toward the rowdy bar.

  “I won’t let him touch me.” Her proclamation was nearly a growl. “I refuse to give him my first time.”

  I understood her frustration. Lena had never been one to let others push her around. She was rebellious by nature. A woman with her own mind. Her father may force her into a marriage she didn’t want, but she wouldn’t do it without kicking and screaming all the way to the altar. This was the one thing she had left to control for the time being, and she wanted to be the one to decide who she gave it to.

  Facing her once again, I dropped my head against hers as the weight of her words bore down on me. She wasn’t just asking me to go against my better judgement, she was offering me her most precious possession.

  I focused on the sounds of our breaths before lifting my head. I kissed the spot on her forehead where mine had left a faint red mark. “What about your friend?”

  “She won’t say anything. She’s an old friend I met in college. She has no idea about this part of my life.”

  I reached into my pocket for my phone. After firing off a quick text to Gabe that I was taking Lena home, so he could have fun with the friend, I shoved it back in and took Lena’s hand.

  “Are you sure about this?” I asked as she twisted her pinky around mine.

  “Yes. Are you?”

  We both knew what she was really asking. Sleeping with Lena wasn’t simple. It wasn’t going to be a one-time deal for either of us. But we also knew it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. We were about to break down an invisible wall we’d erected years ago. One that insured our safety and protected the somewhat blurred relationship we had.

  Yet, this wasn’t a decision I had much choice in. Lena was my everything, and there was no way in hell I’d let a man like Lorenzo take this from her. If only I had a way to keep him from taking her from me…

  Pushing the thought aside, I answered her question, “Yes.” I tugged at our linked hands, pulling her from the wall and maneuvering her so she could lead the way. With my hand at the small of her back, I guided her out the back door and down a path that would change both of our lives forever.

  6

  Lena

  Flashes of light danced across my face as we drove under the streetlamps in Lorenzo’s Town Car. Pressing against the car door, legs crossed, I watched the night crowd as they went about their lives on the sidewalks of Manhattan. Smiling. Laughing. Rushing from one place to the next wrapped in their lover’s warm embrace.

  I was envious.

  And delusional to think I might have that someday.

  “Why was Mario Leoni at the club?” I asked, not bothering to turn my gaze from the outside world to face Lorenzo.

  He didn’t answer, only continued to scroll through his phone, most likely arranging a meeting with one of the many women he fucked after he dropped me at my doorstep.

  I turned to look at his profile. Hard and unforgiving. His eyes were dark and soulless, disinterested in conversation. How could my father expect me to ever be happy with this man?

  “I asked you a question.”

  “And I chose to ignore it for your own wellbeing.” He lowered his phone, pinning me with his sinister stare. “You think I didn’t notice the way you looked at him? You’re my fiancée, Lena. You belong to me. It’s best you learn that now, before you end up like your mother.”

  “My mother—” My thoughts froze with a sinking feeling in my stomach. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

  Balling my cold fingers into fists, my head slanted as I glared at him head on. “Are you threatening me?”

  “If I was?”

  I didn’t respond. Not even the threat of my father seemed to scare Lorenzo these days.

  He turned away from me, a bored expression on his face, and back to his phone as the driver rolled the car to a stop in front of my family’s home. “Get out,” he demanded. “Before I change my mind and remind you who you belong to by spreading those long legs of yours and coming all over that sweet cunt.”

  “You disgust me. And I will never let you touch me,” I shot back.

  He chuckled, the sound carrying a menacing overtone. “I don’t need you to be willing, mi cara,” he stated sharply, his mouth lifting at the edge. “Sometimes it’s more fun that way.”

  Keeping my eyes on him, I reached my trembling hand for the lever, pulling on it. Snatching my clutch from the seat, I stepped onto the sidewalk and slammed the door. I watched the car pull away and disappear into the moving traffic. Holding my rolling stomach, I squeezed my eyes shut while trying to restrain the threatening breakdown.

  “Ms. Moretti?” the doorman called from behind me. “Is everything all right?”

  I took another strangled breath, then spun to face him. I cleared the thickness in my throat and forced a half-hearted smile. “Yes, Oliver. Can you call me a cab?”

  “I can have your car pulled around for you,” he offered instead.

  “No. Thank you. A cab will be fine. I’m in a bit of a hurry.” I didn’t need anyone working for my father knowing where I was headed.

  He nodded, his brow furrowed in concern, then stepped to the edge of the sidewalk, signaling for a cab.

  After asking the driver to take a random route of his choosing for fifteen minutes, I glanced out the windows, ensuring we weren’t being followed. I powered off my phone and removed the battery and SIM card, tucking them all back into my clutch, then had him pull to a stop a couple blocks away from a subway entrance.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I watched for any faces I recognized, my heels clicking furiously against the pavement. I shoved between the crowd littering the sidewalk, rushing down the steps into the subway station. I waited on the platform, alert, heart racing, arms holding my clutch close to my chest.

  When the train arrived, the air breaks whooshing to a stop, I eagerly stepped forward as the doors of the metal tube opened, only to have to wait as drunk strangers stumbled their way out, laughin
g. I rushed inside, the door scraping closed behind me as I scanned the bench seats for an opening. Most passengers had their heads down, glued to their phones or just attempting to avoid eye contact.

  Spotting one a few feet away, I held on to the handrails as the train started to move and made my way to it. Lowering onto the hard, plastic seat, I gathered the emerald satin at my sides. Across from me, a mother with her small daughter in her lap smiled at me.

  “That’s a beautiful dress.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled back and then glanced away.

  “Are you headed to a party?”

  “Home,” I lied, wishing it were the truth, wishing I was already in the safety of Mario’s arms.

  The lights flickered on and off while the train plowed through the dark tunnel. When the next stop was announced, the woman and her daughter stood to exit.

  “He must be smitten with you,” she said with another smile, pulling my attention once again.

  “I’m sorry?” I said, embarrassed I’d missed something.

  “The ring.” She admired the huge diamond heirloom that dominated my left hand.

  “Oh. Um. Yes,” I lied again, covering it with my right hand. It was just easier to pretend than go into details of how this man didn’t love me and had threatened to rape me earlier tonight.

  “Have a good evening,” she said, stepping toward the doors and off the train. I gazed through the dirty windows at the mother and daughter. The little girl waved her fingers over her mother’s shoulder as she carried her away. I waved back with a frail smile, desperate for my own mother and the time before my whole world had been rocked and blown into oblivion.

  The heavy metal locks clicked on the other side of the door. I hugged myself, still checking over my shoulder as I stood in the hallway, waiting for the door to open, the muffled sounds of a baby crying in the apartment a few doors down. He hadn’t given me any idea where his place was, so I hoped I was correct in thinking it was the same as where he’d lived before moving to California.

  The door swung open. Mario blocked the entrance with his freshly showered half-naked body, water dripping from the ends of his hair. My gaze followed the droplets as they hit his bare shoulder, slowly traveling down peaks and valleys created by his defined abs, until they disappeared into the waistband of the jeans hanging low on his hips.

  “Bella?” His hand cupped my chin, gently but firmly, drawing it up. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing…” I shifted my weight to one side, taking a breath. “Everything…” I held his gaze. “What were you doing with my father?”

  He opened the door wider, stepping to the side. I took the few steps inside, then walked deeper into the room, looking around at the apartment I’d spent many nights in before. Before I became engaged. Before he left. Before he broke me.

  It was still the same. The same leaky faucet and stained ceilings. The same scuffed-up wood floors and windows that stuck. The same worn-in leather couch and creaky recliner. Yet, everything was different.

  The door and locks clicked closed behind me. The heat of his body warmed my back as he stepped into my personal space. Hovering but not touching. My skin prickled with the need to feel him against me.

  “You look beautiful,” he spoke, his voice low, a soothing balm to my nerves. “That dress, it was made for you.”

  “Stop, Mario.”

  “Stop what, Lena?” His husky voice caressed my ear. “Complimenting you?” He swept my long hair to the side, revealing the nape of my neck, his lips grazing the sensitive area. “Did you really think I’d let that be goodbye today?”

  “No,” I said breathily. “I hoped. Because I’m not strong enough to do it again and you’re too smart to stick around.” I spun to face him. “Now, stop stalling and answer my question,” I demanded, regaining my composure.

  He sighed, stepping away, and I instantly regretted not just letting him continue. I’d much rather hear all his sweet words and feel the heat of his touch than hear what I feared his answer would be. Yet, I couldn’t help myself.

  He walked into the small, open kitchen. Pulling a glass from the cabinet, he filled it halfway with tap water. “We had some business to discuss,” he answered flatly over the streaming water.

  “What business could you possibly have to discuss with my father?” The faucet shut off, my mind still running. “Please tell me you didn’t…that you’re not…” I stuttered out incomplete sentences. My thoughts spiraled down the worst possible path.

  He gulped down the water, ignoring my pleas, keeping his back to me. He placed the glass in the sink, leaving the silent tension hanging between us. With his head lowered, he flattened his palms against the counter, his shoulders folding inward, accentuating the defined muscles in his back.

  “Mario,” I urged. “Please.” My voice cracked and I felt my knees ready to give from all the stress.

  He turned to face me, leaning against the granite’s edge. He crossed his arms, his expression stern. “I asked you to trust me.”

  “And I do.”

  “Then let it go, Lena. The less you know, the better.”

  “Now you sound like them.” I tossed my clutch on the side table, turning away from him as I debated whether coming here was a mistake.

  “Don’t ever compare us,” he said firmly.

  I spun around, tossing my arms wide. “Then don’t treat me like them! Lorenzo, he—”

  “He what?” Mario held back his growing anger, his tall, intimidating frame straightening as his arms flexed.

  My head shook, my eyes darting to the chipped paint on his charcoal cabinets that still needed a touch-up. “Did you say anything to my father about us?”

  “Of course not.” He took tentative steps toward me, tugging at my hand with his. “What did Lorenzo do, Lena?”

  “Nothing.” I refused to meet his eyes.

  “Did he touch you?”

  “No. Never. His threats are just getting worse every day.”

  He wrapped me in his warm embrace, pressing my cheek to his smooth, firm chest as he kissed the top of my head. “I’m going to get you away from them. I promise,” he murmured into my hair.

  “How?”

  “I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

  I nodded against his chest.

  He pulled back, his eyes searching mine. “Did you do what I taught you?”

  “Yes. Nobody followed me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” I assured him.

  “How long can you stay?”

  “Depends,” I replied more playfully, determined to let go of my anger and push my worries to the background for now. Mario had always made good on his promises, and I trusted him more than anyone in the world.

  “On what?”

  “How lucky you are.” I folded my lips between my teeth, hiding my smile.

  “I’m feeling pretty damn lucky right now.” He slipped a finger under the spaghetti strap of my dress, sliding it down my shoulder and forearm. Then the other. The dress fell into a silky, emerald puddle at my feet, leaving me exposed in nothing but my black stiletto sandals and lacey thong.

  “Oh, yeah?” I taunted, my nipples pebbling against the cool air.

  “Yeah,” he rasped, his head lowering with heavy eyelids. I lifted to my toes, meeting him halfway with my mouth. He groaned into our kiss, his hands finding my waist and pulling me tighter to him. He stepped me backward a few steps toward his bedroom, before hefting me up. My thighs tightened at his waist, my heels digging into his back as I curled around him.

  The bed dipped with the weight of our bodies. The room filled with the sounds of our panting and desperate kisses. I slid my back along the cool, soft sheets, resting my head on his pillow that held the scent of his cologne. Mario kissed down my throat and chest, descending, until his mouth pressed against the small patch of lace between my legs. I arched reactively, then toed off my heels as he grabbed the thin band of my thong, slowly pulling it down my legs.

&nb
sp; “Mario,” I groaned my impatience.

  He stood, a devastatingly handsome smile on his face as he stripped himself, his jeans and boxer briefs falling to the ground in one shove, his hardness springing free.

  I licked my lips, wanting to taste him once again, remembering how powerful I’d always felt when I had the smooth, velvety erection in my mouth, forcing this strong, proud man to lose his mind.

  “Lena,” he warned, pushing a knee between my legs, spreading me wider.

  “What?” I asked, innocently, squirming below him as he traced the tips of his fingers up the outside of my leg.

  “You can’t hide those dirty thoughts from me.” He grinned and lowered to his forearms, caging my head, his cock twitching against me. “And as much as I love those beautiful lips around me”—he pressed his lips to mine, then pulled back—“I want to feel you come around me.”

  I brushed my left hand over his cheek. He covered it with his right one, his face growing somber as he removed it and stared at the ring on my finger.

  “It means nothing,” I promised him. “My heart, my body, it all belongs to you.”

  “It means everything to them.”

  “I’ll take it off.” I tugged at it.

  “No,” he said. “Leave it. You’re right. It doesn’t matter.”

  I weaved my fingers over the tension in his neck and through his hair. Holding on to the back of his head, I lifted my own, pressing my mouth to his, sweeping my tongue inside, tasting the mint on his, offering him everything I had with my kiss.

  He returned everything tenfold, giving me all of him. He moved his mouth from my lips to my cheek, my chin, my neck, slowly and softly working his way down. Squeezing my breast, he sucked my pert nipple into his mouth, his other hand skimming down my sensitive skin, until it reached its accustomed spot, wedging between my thighs. He dipped a finger inside of me. I moaned, thrusting against his hand, greedily. He increased his pace, his mouth joining his fingers, his tongue flicking expertly.

  I panted softly, a thin layer of sweat forming on my brow. Planting my heels against the mattress, I lifted my hips, my eyes closing as I neared my release…so close. Then he was gone and so was my orgasm. I growled my frustration, my eyes popping open to his grinning face as he gripped his cock, lining himself up with my entrance.