Tommaso

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  “Zac, there you are,” said Ashli. “I was looking for you, but bumped into our guest of honor here. Can you explain why she has no clue who I am?”

  The gorgeous man suddenly looked guilty. “Well, I, uh…you know…I thought you should be here as a backup. Just in case.”

  “Dammit, Zac!” Ashli griped. “What did I say about using my gifts on people? They have to agree to my help. They have to want it. I’m not going to run around using my powers on unsuspecting victims.”

  “That’s how the rest of the gods do it,” he argued.

  She rolled her eyes. “Falling in love is a serious matter! And I’m not like the rest of the gods, and I will certainly never be a giant asshole like you and Cimil.” She looked at me. “I was a plain old human up until about a year ago when I met Máax, the God of Time Travel.”

  I just stood there listening with my mouth hanging open. “Oh…uh…I-I wasn’t aware humans could become gods.” Or that there was a god of time travel. Holy crap, I have so much to learn.

  Ashli smiled. “Apparently, no one else was aware either. Well, except for Cimil. But we all know how that is.” She shrugged sweetly and then turned back to Zac to dish out another warning. “That’s the last time I’ll tell you, Zac. Got it? Or you and Cimil can forget my help and you’ll be on your own to help the masses find mates.”

  “I got it.” He held up his hands in surrender. “But since you’re here, I’m wondering if you can help me seduce a woman—”

  “Zac!” Ashli scorned and then turned away.

  “Wait!” he yelled over the loud dance music. “I really like her, and you’re…” His voice faded as he followed her into the crowd.

  As for me, my mind was spinning a little. Okay, a lot. Not from the bizarre exchange I’d just witnessed—one of just many more to come, I suspected—but because Ashli had said Tommaso asked for some love spell to be put on me? At least, that was what I think she said.

  What a complete jerk. Not only was he in love with someone else, but he’d wanted me to fall in love with him? Why would he do that?

  As I stood there fuming in the center of the crowded room of formally dressed mingling guests, pretending to check out the DJ—a tall blond wearing a mini skirt and white go-go boots—I felt a wave of nervous flutters wash over me.

  I turned and spotted Tommaso exiting the elevator. There was a moment where the light behind him illuminated his tall, lean, masculine silhouette, making him seem like an ancient warrior from another time. Not because of his clothes, which I couldn’t really see, but because there was something about the way he carried himself—chin lifted, shoulders and back straight, a slight swagger to his step—it was the kind of way a confident man, a powerful man, a fearless man moved.

  I couldn’t peel my eyes away as the elevator doors behind him closed and the red light of the room enveloped him. His gaze zeroed right in on me, and as hard as it was to admit, I couldn’t lie to myself. I was afraid. Afraid of looking at him. Afraid of wanting him and afraid of knowing his desire was elsewhere. Ego, pride, fear, weakness. It was an ugly soup of insecurity stewing around inside my head, and it shamed me. Oh, goodie! Add shame. One more carrot for the pot.

  Still, I would never get over him if I didn’t have closure.

  I squared my shoulders and reminded myself who I really was—the woman who’d hopped on a plane and flew to Mexico all by herself to confront the Maaskab. Yeah, and you’re genetically half succubus. How badass is that?

  Tommaso, who I now realized wore a tux—gods, so, so handsome—slowly made his way toward me and me to him. We stopped with a few feet of distance between us.

  “Charlotte, you look,” his eyes crawled down my dress, all the way to my red-painted toenails and red strappy shoes, and then up again, “stunning.”

  “Thank you.” I patted the side of my pinned-up hair. I honestly felt a little awkward in such a nice outfit. Most days I dressed like a tomboy to avoid being hit on so much by my clients. Now I knew that had been completely useless.

  “You look, very, very well yourself,” I said.

  He grinned and two little divots puckered in each smoothly shaved cheek. “Compared to the last time you saw me, I’m sure it’s quite a shock.”

  “It’s a relief, actually.”

  We both stared in awkward silence, me trying not to fight how I felt—or how my pulse was out of control or how he smelled so good, all clean and citrusy, or how standing near his tall frame made me feel so safe. It was silly to deny the attraction or how much it hurt to lose what could’ve been between us had things been different.

  The best way to deal with this was to face it head-on.

  “Charlotte, I—”

  “Tommaso, I—”

  We spoke over each other and then both said, “You first.”

  He lifted his hand to stop me. “No, I insist. You’re entitled to speak first. But might I suggest we step out onto the terrace?”

  It was a bit loud inside. “Sure.”

  He dipped his head and gestured for me to proceed. We walked outside where we had a view of Santa Monica beach and a long dock with beautiful twinkling lights.

  Once outside, I found a small table for us to sit at on the crowded patio.

  Tommaso sat across from me and leaned his large frame back into the wrought-iron seat, running his hand over his black bow tie. He was so beautiful—that fierce, dangerously sexy expression in his eyes, the way his angular jaw flexed, the way he commanded a presence that made everyone want to look but not mess with him.

  “I believe you have the floor, Charlotte.” He flashed a cool smile.

  “Oh. Sorry.” I had been gawking. “I just wanted to say—”

  “Can I get you two something to drink?” said a googly-eyed redheaded waitress who practically popped out of nowhere.

  “Oh, uh. Nothing for me,” I said.

  “I’ll have a scotch. Neat. Make it a double.”

  “Well, in that case,” I said, “I’ll have the same. But make mine tequila. And a triple. With a wedge of lime.”

  Tommaso gave me a look.

  Yeah, so it wasn’t the same drink. And I’d just ordered a triple tequila shot. So what? I was going to need a little numbing after I got done saying what I had to say.

  “Comin’ right up, honey,” said the waitress, smacking her gum. “But it will be a few. Our bartender is MIA and we got Bees behind the counter.”

  “Sorry, but did you say there are bees inside?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” She blew a bubble and let it pop. “But they don’t hurt no one unless you provoke them.” She strutted away, and I was left scratching my head.

  Tommaso must’ve noticed. “She meant Bees, as in the Goddess of Bees. Her sacred hive goes everywhere she goes.”

  Okaaaay. “Glad you explained; I never would’ve figured that one out.”

  “But you would’ve had one hell of a shock when you went to the bar. She wears the hive on her head.”

  “Interesting.” I nodded.

  “Quite. So, what was it you wanted to say?”

  Ugh. This was so uncomfortable. I really wished that waitress would hurry up with my drink.

  “I, uh, wanted to say that…that…” Crap. I wanted to say that he’d hurt me. I wanted to say that I wished he’d told me the truth from the beginning about who he was and what he’d wanted from me, even if I might not have been ready to accept it. I wanted to say that I was pissed as hell that he’d led me on and made me like him so much when we never had a chance. I wanted to say that I missed him. So, so much that it hurt to breathe.

  Instead, I pasted on a smile and gazed into his eyes. Holy crap. They were turquoise, I realized. Yes, now that I could see him with a bit of regular light from the gas lamps outside, I could see his beautiful light eyes.

  Great. Now he’s even hotter. Jerk!

  “Yes?” he prodded.

  “I’m happy things worked out for you. I mean, with the whole not turning evil and not going to priso
n thing. And that you and Emma were able to finally,” I swallowed hard, “connect.”

  Tommaso laughed. “Connect?”

  “Well, yeah. Or get back together or finally admit your feelings—whatever you want to call it.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “So you think Emma and I are together.”

  “I saw the way you two looked at each other. She wanted you, and you clearly have feelings for her.”

  “Do you actually think her husband would let me live if I had romantic feelings for her? He’s the God of Death and War. In that order. I think. Okay, I forget. But I’m fairly certain. The point is, he wouldn’t think twice about removing my head if I touched his mate.”

  I figured that much. I had flown back with the man and watched him stab his own hand repeatedly while reciting Tommaso’s name. The hand kept closing up, but it was still very disturbing.

  “It’s none of my business how you two—or three—settle your business,” I said, my tone level.

  He shook his head. “There is no two. And there sure as hell is no three.” I lifted my brows, and he slid his hand across the table to grab mine. “Yes, I had strong feelings for Emma when we first met, and as you heard, she once had feelings for me, too.”

  “She said she loves you, not ‘loved.’”

  “And she does—but not the way you think. We have a history and will always be there for one another. But she didn’t choose me. She didn’t marry me. She didn’t have children with me. She had them with Guy because what she has with him is meant to be. I’m not the man for her. I never could be. And now I know she is not the woman for me either—I love her, but like a sister, a best friend, but nothing more.”

  “But I heard her say—”

  “You weren’t listening, then. She and I don’t want to be together. But that doesn’t negate that we care about each other. And I think somewhere in the back of her mind it made her feel guilty not to say how important I am to her simply because her husband is a jealous idiot.”

  “I understand,” I said. “I do, but—”

  “I don’t think you do.”

  His condescending tone whipped me right over the fence—you know, the one I was trying to mend. Well, now I wanted to stomp on it. “Don’t tell me what I think, Tommaso.” I jerked back my hand.

  “Charlotte, I didn’t come here to fight. I came here because I wanted to ask—”

  “You don’t even know me,” I snarled.

  He tipped his head to the side. “Oh, but I do. I know everything about you, Charlotte Marie Meyer. I know that you love to rescue very unlikeable creatures you feel the world has forgotten. I know that you are as kind as you are brave because you spend your days making horny elderly men smile and feel young again. I know that you were once afraid to sleep and close your eyes because monsters are real. And,” he leaned in, “I know that your nipples are pink and that you don’t like to shave your legs every day.”

  “What! Ohmygod. So I skipped a day. Or five. So what?” I was a real woman, not some fantasy Barbie doll.

  “I’m not complaining.” He lifted a brow. “Other than the fact we were interrupted and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about finishing what we started. Which brings me to the point I wanted to—”

  “I can’t believe you.” I stood up, wanting to spit in his gorgeous face. “Is that all I am to you, some woman to fuck? Is that why you called in Ashli, because you wanted to get into my pants?” I’d risked my life to save him. I’d confronted my worst fears. I deserved to be a little more than some sexual conquest.

  He looked up at me with the most horrifically pissed-off expression I’d ever seen on a man. I instinctively wanted to step back, but didn’t. Those days of being afraid were over.

  He slowly rose from the table, fuming. “I won’t lie, Charlotte. When we first met, the only thing I wanted was for you to accept me as your new mate so I wouldn’t turn. And for that, I’m sorry. But can you really blame me? What would you do to prevent becoming a Maaskab, the thing that violently killed your family?”

  “I would do just about anything. But I wouldn’t wreck another person’s life just to unwreck my own.”

  “You think I wrecked your life?” he growled.

  “You almost ended it! And you definitely wrecked it.” And he’d looked damned fucking hot while he’d done it. Except for that Maaskab episode. Not hot.

  “You think I used you and never had any feelings whatsoever.” It wasn’t a question; it was an accusation.

  “Yes. Again, asshole.”

  He stared at me for a long moment. “I see.” He turned and walked away. Just like that.

  “Where are you going?” I yelled.

  “Char? What the hell is going on?” said a woman.

  I turned my head and found Sadie and Andrus glaring at me.

  “He’s a giant asshole, that’s what!” I said.

  “Charlotte, as your once intended mate, I feel obligated to point out to you that you are, in fact, the giant asshole.”

  “Fuck you!” I snapped. “And stop bringing up the fact that the stupid Universe thought we’d be awesome together.”

  “Hear, hear.” Sadie held out her fist for a sisterly bump.

  I obliged, but Sadie quickly started digging into me. “But he’s right, Char. You are a giant asshole.”

  “What?” I scoffed, pointing accusatorially in the direction Tommaso had disappeared. “He’s the one who lied and tried to use me. He’s the one who pretended to want me when we never had a chance.”

  Andrus stepped forward and grabbed me by the shoulders. “Your head, woman, is stuck up your ass. I suggest you pull it out immediately because Tommaso is like a brother to me, and I will not see you hurt him.”

  Sadie stepped in and pried Andrus off. Thank goodness, because I was about ready to go to my car and grab my clubs.

  “Honey,” Sadie said, “what my barbaric husband here is trying to say is that Tommaso hasn’t stopped obsessing over you since the first moment he saw you. And he fought like hell to find you after he had a vision that he’d hurt you—he did everything to make sure you were okay. And later, when he found out what the Maaskab did, he went down there to kill them all off once and for all. Single-handedly. Yes, a silly idea because Ta’as was too strong, but Tommaso didn’t care. He just wanted you to feel safe again. He wanted to be able to tell you that he’d slayed your dragon and that you never had to be afraid again.”

  My mind bounced around from emotionally charged thought to emotionally charged thought. “But…but…what about Emma?”

  “Emma is in New York with Guy, right where she will always be: by her mate’s side,” said Andrus.

  “Oh.” So Tommaso had been telling the truth about Emma and him not being more than just two people with a past. “So why didn’t he come and tell me this himself?”

  “(A) he said he tried to call you,” Sadie said, “but you wouldn’t answer. (B) he’s a man and was probably ashamed that he almost ripped out your heart.” She scratched the side of her mouth.

  My eyes teared up. “How do you know all of this?”

  “Because I’ve spent the last few weeks helping him plan this engagement party and listening to him gush about how much he loves you.”

  Engagement party? I looked around at the crowd of elegantly dressed people, none of whom I knew.

  “These are Tommaso’s friends,” Sadie said, guessing my thoughts. “And every person in this room is prepared to tell you how Tommaso once helped them, was there when they needed a friend, or how he made a sacrifice for them.”

  I took another look. There were so many people here. Hundreds.

  Andrus added, “I’m sorry we didn’t invite your two friends, you giant hermit, but they would probably crap themselves given the immortal guest list.”

  “Oh, stop.” Sadie smacked his arm.

  Engagement party. This was an engagement party. Tommaso had arranged all of this to ask me to marry him.

  “I-I don�
�t understand. He doesn’t even love me,” I said, more thinking aloud than anything else.

  Sadie shook her head slowly. “Trust me, he loves you. Which is why he insisted on going the grand gesture route. He said it was the only thing,” she made little air quotes with her fingers, “‘befitting of the courage you showed to go and save him.’”

  “Oh.” I looked down at my hands, which I was subconsciously wringing together.

  Sadie grabbed them both and squeezed. “Char, he’s a good man. And he does love you. But you need to meet him halfway if you want it to be the kind of lasting love you really want. A man is as only as strong as his woman—it’s the one thing I’ve learned through all of this.”

  “Heeey…” Andrus protested. “I’m…strong…” His deep voice cracked as he absorbed the warning she shot him with her eyes. “I’m only as strong as you, my love.”

  She gave him a nod of approval.

  Meanwhile, I stood there doing some absorption of my own.

  Tommaso loved me? I honestly couldn’t believe it. Did I love him back? I thought I did. I had risked my life to save him. And I had felt devastated, profoundly so, when I’d thought I’d lost him to Emma.

  Wow. I blew out a breath. When did this happen? I always envisioned falling in love would feel like a bolt of lightning or getting thumped over the head. But this had just sort of snuck up on me. I guessed not everyone got the fairy tale and fell hard. They simply fell. And then, if they were lucky, they kept on falling. Deeper and deeper in love as time went on.

  I suddenly hoped that would be us. A long life together of falling in love. A little more each day.

  “Where did he go?” I asked.

  Sadie smiled. “He either went to the Randy Unicorn to drink it off, or he went home.”

  “What’s the Randy Unicorn?” I asked.

  “A very disturbing nightclub,” Andrus said. “I suggest you wait for him at home. I’ll text you the address.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Zac’s attempt to tempt Ashli, the Goddess of Love, into helping him snag Tula’s heart had failed miserably. He’d offered to buy Ashli a year’s worth of Belgian chocolates—so tempting, right?—he’d offered a lifetime subscription to that cleaning service where the maids were men in kilts—she’d said, “Thanks, but I’m pretty sure my husband would object.” He’d even offered to never call her again for help, to which she laughed and said, “Yeah, right. You’re a god—you live from crisis to crisis. You’d keep that promise for a week at best.”