Fallen Angel, Part 1: Fallen Angel Series - A Mafia Romance

by Tracie Podger

  Perhaps when she’d said Travis and her lived above the garages, maybe she meant that there were two apartments.

  I looked around the room and despite the white walls and the black leather furniture, the room did feel comfortable and I could appreciate why the living areas were upstairs. Taking my wine and walking over to the glass wall, it was like the house was just an extension of the outside. I remembered Robert telling me he had lived rough. Perhaps all the glass and open space, both at the house and the apartment, was his way of still connecting to the outdoors.

  “Tell me about Robert, Evelyn?” I asked, as I walked back to the kitchen area.

  “Not really my place to,” she said, as she glanced to the office door, still closed.

  “I will say one thing though, you’re the first woman he has brought here. I was quite surprised to hear you would be visiting this evening.”

  “Oh, well I guess I should be honoured,” I replied, not sure how to take that.

  I wondered why he hadn’t brought anyone to his home, he was an extremely attractive man, and I doubted he lacked company. I would have thought there would be a stack of women throwing themselves at him. Sam had told me he was thirty-seven, and I wondered if he’d ever had a long-term relationship. I decided that I would ask him, later at dinner.

  “Brooke, dinner is ready,” I heard him say, as he came out of his office.

  For a moment I saw tension on his face, that look of steel that I had seen when I’d first met him. Perhaps his meeting with Travis had not been a pleasant one. I followed him to the dining room already laid out with plates of food.

  “I’m sorry for that, a bit of business to attend to,” he offered by way of an apology.

  “That’s fine, Evelyn is lovely, has she been with you long?” I asked as we sat.

  I knew I was fishing for information but I still knew so little about him.

  “Years. I’ve known her since I was twelve and then she came to work for me in a children’s home I set up, now here because the kids got to be too much,” he chuckled.

  My fork, full of dripping pasta never made it to my mouth. It was suspended in mid-air and I looked at him open-mouthed.

  “A children's home?” I questioned.

  “I told you, Brooke. I lived on the streets and now I provide shelter for other kids that have to,” he looked at me. “You seem surprised by that.”

  “Well,” I stumbled, trying to find the right words. “You hide your emotions so well, I’m a little shocked, that’s all.”

  I could hardly say that he seemed far too emotionless to want to help others.

  He lay his fork down, his dinner forgotten. I cringed inside; I thought I might have offended him. I raised my glass and gulped a mouthful of wine, willing him to speak.

  “You’re right, I don’t show emotion, for reasons I’m not going into,” he said, staring hard and coldly at me, and I flinched.

  “Well, at least not yet,” he said, softening a little. “I want kids on the street to know they have options, a way out, and I can provide that for them.”

  “That sounds wonderful, will you tell me more about it?” I asked.

  “Not now, let’s just eat and enjoy our evening. The home is not something I like to talk about too much. It’s not that I’m not proud of it, but it opens up a few wounds that have taken a long time to seal,” he said.

  My heart cried out for him. I reached across the table, placed my hand over his and he stilled, looking at it. He brought his eyes to mine. It was a knowing look. My touch seemed to have sparked something in his brain and it was reflected in his eyes. I moved my hand away, using the excuse of picking up my wine and I saw him relax and breathe out slowly. It was very subtle but noticeable, and judging by the sideways glance, he knew that I had seen, that I was aware.

  Trying to lighten the atmosphere a little, I asked him about his work and his companies. He had no problem telling me about the building projects he was working on. He was due to fly to New York in the morning for a couple of days and with a jolt, I realised that meant I would not see him.

  It was only a second date but already I felt under his spell. I wanted to peel back the layers and find the real Robert. I wanted to know the orphaned boy, the homeless bad boy, and no doubt like many women before me, I wanted to heal him. I needed to heal him but I didn’t know why.

  Leaving the dining room, we made our way to the lounge. Evelyn had gone but left some chocolates in a dish on the breakfast bar beside a coffee pot, waiting to be filled.

  Robert laughed, “She still thinks I’m a kid,” he said.

  He refreshed my glass and we sat. Although not touching, he was very close to me. Music played in the background and I relaxed.

  “Have you ever been married?” I asked him.

  He smiled. “No,” he said simply and diverting the conversation away from himself, he asked, “Now, tell me why you are really here, in DC.”

  Swirling my wine, I sighed. What did I want to tell him? I didn’t want to bare my soul to him but he had a knack of getting me to talk. Probably not just me, anyone he met. I think, because he was such an intense person, calculating, he was able to get people to divulge their inner secrets to him.

  “I’d been in a relationship with Michael on and off, for about eight years and then one day I woke up and thought this just isn’t for me anymore. I wanted something else, something exciting, some fun. I didn’t want to be bored doing the same thing day in and day out. We had got into such a routine we were stuck.”

  I paused as I thought how that made me sound.

  “I know it makes me sound awful and I tried to talk to him about it, tried to change our routines, but it was like pulling teeth with him. He liked our life, I didn’t. I tried for a couple of years but nothing changed. I just felt life was passing me by and I had contributed nothing to it.”

  I sat quietly looking at my glass of wine and listened to a clock ticking somewhere in the background.

  “So, have you left him?” he asked.

  “Yes, although I’m not so sure he fully grasps that yet. I moved out and the following week, came here. I haven’t heard from him since I’ve been here, so maybe he understands now, I don’t know,” I said.

  “Anyway, I still don’t know much about you, not you the businessman, you the person. Usually, well, where I come from anyway, it’s normal to talk about yourself the first couple of dates,” I joked.

  “So these are dates?” he asked, throwing me a little.

  “Well, what you do call them?” I replied.

  He thought for a moment. “Yes, I guess they’re dates.”

  “Brooke, I’ll answer your questions, maybe not all of them and for very good reasons,” he said as he leaned forward to stroke some hair from my cheek.

  “I find it hard to talk about myself, there are things that are not pleasant about me but ask away. If I can’t answer it, I won’t, and please don’t be offended, is that a deal?”

  It was about the best I could expect really. I wouldn’t take offence to anything he didn’t want to discuss as long as he was honest with what he would say. I mean, I didn’t think I was being unreasonable. I’d spent two evenings, one night of sex and perhaps another looming, and yet I knew his name, a little about him and where he worked, that was all.

  “You haven’t been married, but how about any long term partners?” I asked.

  “Despite what people believe, I haven’t dated, as you call it, that many women. The ones I have, well, they seem to end up wanting something from me that I can’t give. They want the fairy tale, Brooke, there is no fairy Godmother, and I’m certainly not Prince Charming.”

  Somehow I knew asking what the fairy tale was, was a no-go area. I’d already got a good impression of Robert Stone. He didn’t trust and I think that’s why he surrounded himself with as little amount of people as possible. The aloofness he gave off, perhaps that was more for his protection than anything. I was no therapist, and definitely not capable of
getting into the mind of Robert Stone, so I left it at that.

  “You said you’ve known Evelyn for a long time, can you tell me about that?” I asked.

  “I think I was about twelve, she used to see me and Travis on the streets and give us something to eat. Maybe just a sandwich or some chips, but she was kind to us, we became friends.”

  “What happened to your aunt?” I asked. “Why did you end up on the streets?”

  “That’s not something I want to talk about. Why don’t I get us some more wine,” he said as he rose and walked to the fridge.

  I was thankful for the information he had given; it was more than I thought most knew. Why he felt he could tell me some things and not others I didn’t know, but that was enough questioning. I mean, being realistic, I’d only known him two days; I didn’t have to know his life story. I should just do what Sam said; I wanted some fun, some excitement. I should just enjoy it while it lasts and not try to understand Robert Stone any more than was necessary.

  I walked to the kitchen area with the two glasses and stood facing him. His expression was cold and I knew the question I’d asked him had done that. Although a slight shiver went through me, I wouldn’t back away. As he stood before me he raised his hand, stroked his fingers down my cheek, under my chin and down my throat. All the time those eyes were fixed on mine.

  “What do you see when you look into my eyes?” I asked breathlessly and not entirely sure where the question had come from.

  “All there is to know,” was his reply.

  His hands were at either side of me on the counter top and I was trapped. His face was inches from mine. I tried to keep my eyes open and look at him but as his desire grew for me, his eyes darkened and I shook a little.

  “What do you see when you look into my eyes, Brooke?” he whispered, there was a slight anger to his voice.

  I trembled. “An abyss, and danger,” was all I could say.

  He reached upwards and grabbed my face. His mouth met mine, his tongue was hungry for me, and the weight of his body pinned me where I was. I dropped the glasses I was holding. The shattering noise of the glass hitting the tiled floor echoed around the room. He grabbed at my waist and lifted me onto the counter, pushing my dress up and pulled my panties so hard they ripped away. With one hand he undid his jeans and pulling my legs around his waist, he pushed himself into me.

  He was rough but I was so wet, ready for him and he fucked me hard. I cried out his name. My fingernails scraped across his scalp as he gripped my hips. His mouth was on my throat, my neck, and his teeth grazed across my shoulder. My lips felt bruised from the force of his kisses and my legs shook with the building orgasm. He slammed into me with such force and I loved every moment of that primitive, raw sex. My head was spinning and my heart pounded so hard. My stomach ached and I felt my body give in to an orgasm so intense, I screamed out. Tears fell onto my cheeks.

  I felt him tense, a shudder ran through him, and then he relaxed his head against my shoulder. His hands were on either side of the bar supporting himself. I tried to push him away but he was too heavy. I felt such shame at what I’d just done and yet I had loved it at the same time.

  “Please, let me go,” I whispered.

  He stepped away and I could see the shock in his eyes. I think he was as surprised by his reaction as I was, by the forcefulness of him. He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes.

  “I’ve hurt you,” he whispered.

  Touching a tender spot on my shoulder, I felt the blood. There wasn’t a lot, just a small graze he had made with his teeth. Looking at my shaking hand, seeing the blood on my fingers, I let the tears fall freely. I wasn’t ready for him, for the intensity of him, the damage, and danger that came with him, and I knew he could easily break me if I stayed there any longer. I pushed myself off the counter, past him and ran down the stairs to the front door. Opening it, I fled into the night with no idea of what to do.

  It was pure luck that Travis came out of the garage as I headed across the gravel driveway. I fell to my knees as my heels caught in the stones. I felt an arm lift me up and Travis was standing next to me, looking concerned.

  “Please, take me home,” I sobbed.

  “Brooke,” I heard Robert cry. It was a wretched noise from the doorway, but I couldn’t look at him.

  Travis walked towards him. I couldn’t hear what was said but I knew Robert had stopped; his footsteps across the gravel had ceased. I just stood with my arms wrapped around myself. Travis pulled out the Range Rover from the garage and I climbed in the back knowing that I’d left my purse and wrap in the house. I couldn’t go back for them, I would have to arrange for someone to either collect them or send them to me. I only hoped that Sam was in and still up, as I didn’t have my keys.

  “Take this,” I heard Travis say.

  I looked up to see him handing me a tissue to wipe my eyes with.

  “Thank you and I am sorry, dragging you out like this,” I said.

  “Brooke, he’s not a bad person. Things have happened to him and he’s just fucked up.”

  “You’re right about the fucked up part.” I said as I rubbed at my shoulder.

  I didn’t want to say what had happened, I was ashamed but also amazed to realise I didn’t want to be disloyal to Robert either.

  “What’s happened to him that’s so bad?” I asked.

  “Ah, Brooke,” he sighed. “I can’t tell you that, that’s for him. But I can tell you one thing, he might have only known you for two days, but you’ve gotten to him.”

  “I’m only here for three weeks. I don’t see that this can go anywhere, and look at me, two days and I’m already a mess.” I replied.

  “Listen, he’s off to New York in the morning for a couple of days, see how you feel then, give yourselves some cooling off time.”

  I sighed, I just felt so tired, so emotionally drained. Being with Robert was so highly charged that it was exhausting. It wasn’t Robert I was so upset about though; it was me. It was how I felt about him, after only two days, that concerned me.

  “Travis, can I ask you something personal?”

  “Sure, whether I answer or not is a different matter,” he laughed.

  “What’s your relationship to Evelyn?”

  “Ah, now there’s a difficult one. I don’t know what Robert has told you about himself.”

  “I know that he ran away and lived on the streets for a while.”

  “Okay, well so did I. We were street brothers and Evelyn would make sure we had something to eat each day. I think I remember it started when Rob tried to snatch her bag on her way to work. Instead of calling the cops, she saw two skinny, dirty kids and felt sorry for us. She was early twenties then and each morning on her way to work she would stop where we slept and give us some food. She became like a big sister to us I guess, we never lost contact.”

  So she was older than I thought, but what a wonderful thing for her to do and what a terrible story. Travis and Robert, street kids.

  “Why on earth did the authorities not get you into care?” I asked.

  “For sure they tried, but they wanted to separate us, bad influences and all that. So we kept running away. We got smart and soon enough they gave up.”

  We pulled up outside Sam’s apartment block. All I wanted was to have a bath, to get my pj’s on and cry into my pillow.

  I’m thirty years old for Christ’s sake, I thought and right then felt like a teenager who had split with her first boyfriend. Travis waited until I heard Sam’s voice on the intercom, he let me in, and I waved goodbye.

  “Where’s your key?” Sam asked, as he opened the front door. When he saw my face however, he stopped.

  “Oh, honey, what happened, tell me, what’s wrong.”

  “Sam, it’s just fucking awful. Please, let me have a bath and then I’ll tell you all about it.

  Chapter Three

  Sam rushed to the bathroom and ran a hot bath for me, pouring copious amounts of bubbles into the tub. I
climbed in and with the lights left off, I finally felt myself relax. I stayed there until the water cooled. Occasionally Sam would knock on the door checking that I was okay. He brought me in a glass of wine, which I greatly appreciated. With a towel wrapped around my chest, I went into the bedroom for my pj’s. Sam was sitting on the bed.

  “Oh fuck. Brooke, look at your shoulder, did he rape you?” he asked, rushing towards me.

  “No! No, he didn’t rape me. Trust me, it was consensual. He’s just, oh, I don’t know Sam. He was just a bit rough.”

  “The bloody bastard, I’m going to call him.”

  “Please don’t, Sam. I don’t want you involved, you have your job to consider. I’ll deal with this, don’t worry.”

  “Fuck the job, there’ll be another. Look at yourself,” he said, as he gently turned me towards the mirror.

  One shoulder had a graze along the top and inspecting my hips, I noticed bruises all over. I reached for my pj’s; I wanted to cover myself up, hide away under the fleecy sheep. I wanted another glass of wine, a large one and to blot out the night altogether. Sam and I snuggled on the sofa and Scott sat opposite. I was touched to see he was as concerned about me as Sam.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Scott asked.

  “It’s not him I’m upset about. I’m disgusted with myself,” I said. The tears had started to fall again.

  “I don’t know what you know about Robert but, please, you can’t repeat any of this.”

  I told them what I knew, about Robert being an orphan, the aunt, and then living on the streets with Travis. I explained that I’d met Evelyn and how she had cared for them as children.

  Sam looked at me stunned. “Wow, that’s not something I’ve read about. I can guess he would want that kept a secret, but that doesn’t excuse what has happened to you.”

  “I know. He took me to his house; apparently he doesn’t take anyone there. We had a meal and I asked him some questions about his life. He got tense; I guess he doesn’t like to talk about it. Do you know he owns a home for homeless kids? He takes them off the streets, gives them somewhere to stay and looks after them.”