Marked Steel: A Stand Alone Dark Romance (Steel Crew Book 8)

by Mj Fields

  “Well, Tris, I didn’t just hop on the parenting wagon. I have another. So, back at ya, kid.”

  “What are you gonna do? Drag me kicking and—”

  “Whatever it takes. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  I didn’t want to do this so soon, but apparently, it is necessary.

  “If I could request that you and Mrs. Steel attend a meeting tomorrow in Rome with my attorney, I think …” I pause as my head begins to feel light.

  “Matteo?”

  I hold up a finger, stopping her, and then I walk back and sit down.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Of course.” I smile and look at her father. “I’d like the two of you to sign an NDA—”

  “They don’t have to know!” Tris yells … at me.

  “They do. It’s only right.”

  “The fuck is going on?” Zandor snarls.

  “The marriage to Gabrielle would have been one of convenience. And I’ll explain once you’ve met with Carlos.”

  “Matteo, no.”

  “Tris, there will be no lines, and there will be no lies.” I stand up. “I’m going to lie down for a bit. Tris, would you mind postponing our date until later?”

  “We’re leaving tomorrow,” Zandor snaps.

  “I’d like you to wait until after we’ve had our discussion.”

  “Let’s have it now, then,” he insists.

  “I apologize, but things must be done properly.”

  “My fucking word is—”

  “Dad! He asked for one day. One.”

  He gives her a hard look.

  “My and Brisa can fly back with everyone else. One day, Dad, please.”

  “Fine.”

  “Now, can you just go?”

  “You expect me to leave you in a hotel—”

  “Yes. As a matter-of-fact, I insist. Because, unlike Matteo, I’m not caving to you.”

  “Tris, it’s fine.”

  “No, Matteo, it’s not. You took care of me yesterday, and I’m gonna do the same.”

  “Tris, what—”

  “My God, Dad, can you just trust me? For once, can you just look at me and see I am okay?”

  “You have an hour.” He turns and walks to the door then opens it.

  “Hey,” she calls after him, hurrying to him. She holds out the key card. “If I fall asleep, or if my phone dies, use this. But stop freaking out, okay?”

  He takes it, turns, and opens the door.

  “And, Dad?”

  He looks back at her.

  “I love you, and I swear I’m fine. Getting better every day.”

  He turns and grabs her up. “Love you, Tris.”

  The way he hugs her is beautiful.

  First Date

  Tris

  “Best first date ever.” I laugh as I close the app after my emergency session with Marley.

  Smiling, he feeds me a spoonful of the cherry dessert.

  “The Italian ice or the therapy?”

  Holding my hand in front of my mouth so I can speak without showing him its contents, I answer, “The Italian ice, a five out of five. The therapy? Ask me after we talk to Dad and Mom.”

  “It will be fine.”

  “I just hope they understand that I don’t care if we have two years or a hundred and two.” I have told him this a dozen times today, because that’s the reality of the situation.

  “Make a wish.” He chuckles. “Are you sure she can be trusted? Have you seen her certificate?”

  I start to answer, and he shoves another scoopful in my mouth. “No fair.”

  “Is this degree from a reputable institution?”

  I shrug as I swallow the spoonful and lean back.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “You’re not playing fair.”

  “All is fair in love is it not?” he pulls me closer than before and holds the spoon up.

  I lean back. “I think you’re trying to fatten me up.”

  “The reality is much simpler than that.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I love putting things in your mouth.”

  My jaw drops, because every time I have even attempted to make sexual innuendos previously, he blocked them like a professional defense player.

  He places the spoon on my tongue and rubs it back and forth slowly.

  “Your mouth is stunning. Your lips are like pillows, tongue so … seductive. You make me want again, mi corazón.”

  I lean back. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t ever be. Just know that, if you ever decide you’d like to be intimate with me—”

  “I understand that you can’t and accept—”

  He sets down the Italian ice and spoon, leans forward, pushes my hair away from my face, and looks me in the eyes. “I can be. I just need to visit the physician and have things changed a bit.”

  “Is that safe?”

  He smiles as he runs his thumb across my lips, and then he licks the pad. “Just a couple weeks of adjusting to things and making sure.”

  “Wait—what does that mean? Making sure?”

  “Medication switches, some downtime to adjust to them.”

  “Okay, explain.”

  “Like any medication, at first, they can make you not feel well.”

  “Sex is that important that you would make yourself physically ill?”

  He smiles, and its insanely … sexy.

  “You say that because you’ve yet to have it with me.”

  “Wow, that good, huh? Modest, too.” I say this in a sarcastic manner. However, deep down, I would love to feel him everywhere.

  “I also want you to make sure that you truly are ready for intimacy on that level again. I want nothing we experience together to burden your soul.”

  “I like sex.”

  Liar, you’re a fiend.

  He smiles. “Your eyes tell me so.”

  “Yeah, well …” I shrug.

  “So, while you’re in New Jersey, I’ll task Carlos with helping me through—”

  “Carlos has a thing for you still.”

  “Green with jealousy. Jealousy is not sexy, Tris.”

  “Neither is Carlos talking about your dick and salivating.”

  He tosses his head back in a deep, rich laugh, and I start to move back, simply to get a reaction. Is that wrong? Yes. But being wanted by him … addicting.

  As suspected, he pulls me back, and I hold my hand out, stopping him.

  “Admit jealousy is sexy. Not trusting someone for no reason is not.”

  “I’d never intentionally make you jealous, but I have no power over other’s actions or accusations, as we found today with Gabrielle.”

  I sigh. “I wigged out.”

  He looks confused.

  “Got angry.”

  “I see.”

  “I bet Dad told you that already, huh?”

  “His wig was out about it, too.”

  Oh my God, he’s hot even when he says things like that.

  “Did you truly believe if you left—”

  “No, I just didn’t want him to know the real reason that I don’t want to be away from you for a freaking month.”

  “And what is it, Tris?”

  “I don’t want to miss a minute that I don’t have to.”

  “Your family is important. Their tomorrows are not guaranteed, either.”

  “That’s not helping,” I grumble as he pulls me into his arms.

  “You have to promise me something.”

  “Anything.”

  “I live a cautious life due to circumstance. Overly cautions, some would say. And I’d like you to promise me that, when we’re apart, you’re taking the best care of you humanly possible.”

  “I’ll promise as long as you agree to throw caution to the wind when you’re with me. Live out loud, you know?”

  A look of concern crosses his face.

  “I’m not talking about going skydiving or something, just, you know, be in the moment.”<
br />
  “I’ll be in every moment with you.”

  He looks at my lips, and my body heats and begins to react.

  “Tris.” My name has never sounded more desired, more beautiful.

  But when he says nothing else, I look at him, confused.

  “Are you going to say it?” he asks, leaning in yet not close enough.

  “Say …?”

  His brows knit together, and he whispers, “Are you going to kiss me or what?”

  “Do I need to?” I successfully hide the amusement in my tone.

  He leans back a bit and looks from my lips to my eyes. “It’s customary with you.”

  “Do you want to kiss me?” I know it’s a stupid question. Of course he does, but it’s insane to think I will have to ask him every time.

  “Always.”

  “Then do it whenever and wherever you want.”

  He licks his lips, and a slight smile graces those perfect lips. “Perfecto.”

  As he cups my face, I realize that every other kiss we have shared, except the first, has been at my request, that every other kiss has been to comfort, that every other kiss, kisses I now crave like a junkie, will be just that, a kiss. Before his lips even touch mine, I know that something extraordinary is about to happen.

  He lifts my chin with his thumb as he outlines my lips with his tongue, wetting them.

  “Delicioso, mi coraźon.” He hums, and my body does right along with him as he now runs his tongue across my lower lip. And when he sucks it between his lips, my nipples pucker and ache.

  I grip his sides and pull him closer, pressing against him, needing the ache to lessen.

  He releases my cheek and takes one of my hands, pushing it between our bodies and … and holds it over his heart.

  “You make it race,” he whispers before kissing me softly, slowly, over and over again.

  Whimpering, I move closer, pushing his back against the sofa and holding myself up, one-handed, as I lean into him, wanting to climb on him, to remove the space between us.

  So I do.

  He grips the back of my head, plunging his tongue inside my mouth, his groan is met with my moan, and he no longer holds my hand against his heart but is now running it up and down my back, getting lower and lower each time.

  Wetness pools at my core, and I fight the instinct to grind against him as he grips my hips and drags me closer to him, eliciting a whimper as I feel the burn then tiny spasms begin in my core.

  When I feel him, I gasp, and shock causes me to pull back.

  “No,” he groans, crashing his lips against mine. Tongue rubbing mine, lips and teeth connecting as he guides me back and forth against what feels too much to be an erection to not be.

  No longer guiding me, I rub against him on my own as his lips cascade like a thawing, like a winter’s waterfall down my neck, tongue flickering against my earlobe, face nestled in the crook of my neck as slow, deep bursts of hot, sweet air kiss my skin.

  I slow down, worried I’m pushing this too far, and he begins to guide me again. Hands fisted in my hair, he pulls my mouth to his.

  We kiss like we breathe, as if life depends on it. His tongue is gentle, like he is, yet demanding, like fate has been with us. It’s exactly like I thought it would be, yet so much more. It’s as if our souls are melding together, and space and time be damned.

  With my fingers, I grip his silky soft, thick waves, and my heart pulses as if on fire, as is my core.

  I feel everything inside me tighten, tightening, tightening until it bursts, and I cry out into his mouth that tastes like cherries and him.

  I come in colors that once hindered me, caused me to hide, colors that controlled me, colors that he now not only seems to control but has made beautiful.

  Body shaking, he holds my head to his chest, and when I hear and feel its beat, I practically jump off his lap.

  “What is it?” he says, standing and adjusting his … insanely thick and, fuck you, Carlos because, yes, I am sure it’s exactly as he said, “magnificent cock.”

  “Your heart and your”—I point to his tented track pants — “that.”

  He smirks and lifts a shoulder. “My heart, I assure you is fine, for I didn’t exert enough energy to make”—he points down — “that join yours, to—”

  Covering my ears, I cringe. “Oh my God, shut up.”

  He steps forward, smiling, as he takes my hands and pulls them away. “When they join—”

  “Shut up.” I laugh.

  “—the skies will part, and the angels will rejoice.”

  “The nuns would have your ass for that, you know.” I laugh as he wraps my arms around his shoulders, then his arms around me to lift me up so that we are eyeball-to-eyeball.

  “Not a chance. Every part of me is yours.”

  He spins me around as we laugh until … Dad.

  Matteo kisses me without asking then sets me on my feet. I manage to maneuver in front of him in case his … that is still … all that it is.

  Oh, the possibilities ….

  Dad runs his hands through his hair. “I’ve spent the better part of the day digging to find out what the hell it is that can’t be talked about without signing an NDA. I won’t apologize either, so …” He shrugs and steps aside and …

  I gasp when Carlos walks in.

  “Dad, what the hell?”

  Matteo grips my shoulders and kisses the top of my head. “It’s fine.”

  “It’s not fine. It’s bad enough our first real date was talking with my shrink on how to deal with talking to him”—I point at Dad — “and now we have NDAs and sad stories and—”

  “Him is your father,” Dad interrupts me.

  Mom walks in. “I ordered room service. Let’s just do this, okay, Tris?” She kisses my cheek then steps around me and whispers, “Sorry about this, Matteo.” She kisses his cheek, too.

  Glaring at Dad, I curl my legs up behind me, snuggle into Matteo’s side, and grab his arm, putting it around me, knowing Dad will glare at me, and he doesn’t disappoint.

  Honestly, it makes me happy.

  “I’m proud of you, Dad.”

  He looks at me like I’m nuts. I mean, I am, but whatever …

  “Excuse me?”

  “A month ago, you wouldn’t have dared glare at me in fear I’d flip out or take a handful of pills.”

  He tilts his head in confusion.

  “I want you to remember that, okay, Dad? Mom? I’m doing the work and”—I pause — “I’m stronger, okay?”

  “Of course.” Mom says.

  But Dad chimes in, “Wasn’t a month ago that you—”

  “Flipped out, broke down, and admitted some unhealthy things I’d been doing to deal with crap. Then confronted and forgave someone, admitted my wrongs, and here we are. I’m asking you to look at me like you never have before. Look at me and see what he does. Please, see that I am stronger than you think, okay?”

  “Tris?”

  “Carlos, get those papers out and do your best to explain. Because, if you aren’t thorough, this will feel a lot like that inquisition you Spaniards are famous for.”

  An hour and minimal tears on Mom’s part, they know everything about Matteo’s family history, what he wants for his nieces, and his health issues. The only thing Carlos left out, and I will be sure to thank him for it later, is the whole magnificent cock portion of the story. But he did make sure to let them know about the experimental phase. I’m not sure why Matteo felt the need to let them know that it never went “all the way,” but he did. Not gonna lie; I am happy to know that Carlos didn’t get to “do it” with him or to him, or whatever and however that works. Leave it to me to let my little green monster rear its ugly head when it comes to Carlos.

  The next part takes me by surprise. Matteo asks my parents to manage his estate with me. He explains he doesn’t want to wait until we are married, because he knows in his heart that we would do the right thing by his family.

  To that, my father’s eye
s get a bit misty, but it’s not because he’s honored.

  “Do you think that, when you go, she’ll ever recover from a loss like that?”

  Matteo’s response is he’s one hundred percent sure I would, because, “By the time that happens, she’ll make sure nothing stops her from entering heaven so that she and I can be together through eternity.”

  Dad’s reply, “That’s a lot to put on a seventeen-year-old kid.”

  “Not the woman you raised. Not the woman whose heart is as yours—Steel.” He doesn’t wait for Dad to reply. “And I have no qualms with waiting until she’s eighteen. I love her. Six months or sixty years will not change that.”

  “See? I do have a problem with that. You could just let us now.”

  “Tris,” Dad warns.

  “I have a question,” Mom finally pipes in.

  “Yes?”

  “Have you ever considered trying to find your birth mother?”

  “I see no reason.”

  “It might answer some health questions. Or, at the very least, give you some peace.”

  “Seeing a real doctor would help, too.”

  I nod to Dad. “Gonna have to agree with you there.”

  “Once everything is settled, I will agree to see a doctor in the States. If you can suggest one who can’t be bought, that would be great.”

  “Why not come back now?” Mom asks. “I’m sure Carly can—”

  “I’m going to ask that no one outside of this room is privy to my personal information.”

  “Thus, the NDA,” I point out.

  “Understood.” Dad finally sits back.

  At Mom’s instance, we leave Dad, Matteo, and Carlos, and she and I head back to the suite. After Brisa swoons about Matteo, and My grumbles about him, Mom sends them to grab some things at the shops across the street from the hotel.

  As soon as they leave, she stands and grabs my hand, dragging me into hers and Dad’s room.

  “Remember your last concert when Dad ambushed me with leaving you after the show?” she asks as she pulls a week’s worth of clothes hanging in the closet for a three-day trip and drops them on the bed.

  “Yeah,” I say and begin taking them off the hangers.

  “Your dad and I are going to leave tonight with your brother and sister.”