Expected? I dislike that word. “Don’t do me any favors,” I murmur.
“What was that, Callie?” His smirk is in place, and I want to wipe it off his face. With my lips.
“I don’t like being an obligation. I’ve been that my entire life.” I hate that feeling.
“No, baby. You misunderstood. You are not an obligation. A desire. A need. Yes, to those. I just meant natural progression is dating and courting. We’re doing it all, we are doing it right, and we will be doing it forever.”
“Are we exclusive?” I know no other man will ever make me turn my head, but him . . . he isn’t exactly known as being a monk.
“You better believe it.”
“I’m not ready for sex yet.” I just blurt it out. “No throwing the hotdog down the hallway.” Five minutes ago I thought it would be fun, but now I’m freaking out.
“Callie, first please don’t refer to your vagina as a hallway. Freaks me out a bit. And don’t insult my dick in reference to a hotdog. Not cool. Sex. That isn’t what this is about. Eventually it will happen, but we pace this. When you’re ready, and are absolutely sure, then we’ll talk about it.”
His sincerity is making me want to believe him, but he has needs. “What about you? Don’t you need sex?”
“I don’t need it. I enjoy it. I want it. But there are other things we can do, eventually.”
“So you won’t be having sex with other people?” I’m not okay with that, but can I really tell him not to? He isn’t getting it from me and men have needs.
“No, Callie. Only you from here on out.” He seems so earnest, and I am totally enamored with him. I have been for as long as I can remember.
Bianca is playing with my hair and doing my makeup. “You are going to be the envy of every girl at school. Guys go crazy for red heads.” She applies more mascara and studies her work. We just turned fifteen and are entering high school this year.
I sigh, “You know I only want one person.”
“I know, Callie. We all know.” She is exasperated by this fact. She hears it every day.
“What, Binks?” I can tell she is mulling over something and I just want her to say it.
“Do you ever wonder if saving yourself for him, by not experiencing anything else is a mistake?” I don’t. Not in the least.
“No, he’s always been it for me. I just know it.” My stomach growls at that point and I hop up and throw on her robe. “I’m going to get something to eat.”
“I’ll be there in a second,” she is responding to a text. I about trip over my own feet as I stop in the entryway to the kitchen. Bronson is reading over a textbook and when he looks up and sees me, I can feel the heat from his gaze. His pupils darken and he peruses my body from head to toe.
“Callie,” his voice is a beacon to me. “What are you wearing?”
I glance down trying to put myself in this moment. “Oh, a robe. Bianca was playing dress up with me and I didn’t want to make a mess of my clothes.”
“Callie, go get dressed.” My name comes out as a growl, his tone clearly warning me of something. Despite the threat of his voice, I’m not afraid. My stomach is fluttering, and I can see he is feeling the same.
“I’m just going to get something to eat, Bronson.” I step into the kitchen and he is up in a flash right in front of me.
“One day, this dance we keep doing,” he points his finger between him and I, “is going to end. We are going to stop side stepping each other, and when we do, you need to be prepared.”
It’s always like this with us lately. A battle of wills. He pushes, I pull. I step forward, he steps back. As draining as that sounds, it’s just natural. It’s simple, yet intriguing. We aren’t difficult to read, we are just unsure of when we are going to succumb to the inevitable.
His fingers snapping in front of my face and him calling my name breaks me out of my trance. A walk down memory lane, especially that one, wasn’t welcome right now. I’m sure my cheeks are flaming and my breathing is ragged but I come back to the moment.
“Okay. How does this work?”
“The only difference is we will go out alone . . . on dates.” Seems simple.
“And kissing. Don’t forget the kissing because I really liked that part.”
“Definitely kissing.” Without further ado, he takes my mouth in a scorching, tongue-filled kiss that has me gripping his shoulders so I don’t fall over. “Ouch”
He immediately pulls away, concern marring his face. “What’s wrong?”
“I have a crick in my neck. You’re kind of tall.” He is tall for his age. He towers over six feet by at least four inches, and to my 5’5” it’s a big difference. I hear him chuckling, and he effortlessly picks me up and sits me on his lap as he takes a seat at his desk. After adjusting me so he is cradling me, and I’m not straddling him, he resumes making my head spin. I could easily become addicted. Addendum: I’m already addicted.
After he pulls away, “Better?”
“Perfect.” I smile around his lips.
“You are.” And I sigh in contentment with his kiss to the side of my head. “I like this,” he tells me.
“I like you.” Really, I love him, always have, but it’s too soon.
“Good. That works in our favor.” He teases me. He lifts me off him and pats my ass. “Go back to my sister, I’ll see you at dinner.”
“I could get used to this boyfriend thing.”
“I’m already used to this girlfriend thing,” and I officially swoon. Knees weak, hearts floating around in my head, blush spreading to my cheeks, and I giggle.
I practically float back to my bestie’s room and find her waiting patiently. By patiently I mean she is pacing the floor, and the second I enter her room she flings herself on me, and we both crash to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. In hysterics, we barely pay attention to Bronson running in the room to check on the loud crash. He sees us on the ground, makes his way over, and picks both of us up, checking us over for injuries. Then he leaves just as swiftly. You would think he has done this a time or two.
“Well?” Nosy Rosy asks.
“It’s all good. We are going to date some, ease into this new relationship.”
“I knew it. I knew you would end up together. You’re still my best friend, right?” I can’t believe she asked me that.
“Nope.” I watch her face fall. “We are really going to be sisters, so I’ve bumped up your status.” I don’t think either one of us took into account that as much as things will change, they will also remain the same. I’m pretty much an honorary part of their family, now it is just going to be official one day.
I can’t believe it all. I don’t want to think about what I will face when I get home, but I’m hoping this will somehow make my father happy. I know it won’t, but I don’t want to think bad thoughts now. Not when I just got everything I’ve ever wanted. We continue gossiping until we are called for dinner.
I notice their father isn’t at the head of the table, and before I can work myself up to think about how the meeting is going, if the announcement has been made, Mrs. Agosto comes in the room, cups my cheeks, with tears in her eyes, “Figlia.” She removes one hand from my face and cups Bianca’s. Two daughters. She is overjoyed right now. Letting go of us, she reaches for Bronson and engulfs him. I’d say she is pleased, and some of the apprehension floating around in my stomach eases. I don’t know why I was worried; they love me as much as I love them.
“Eat, we’re celebrating tonight.” The smile doesn’t leave her face throughout the meal until the front door slams, and she catches the look Mr. Agosto is wearing. The air seems to be sucked out of the room, and my head begins to spin. I feel a familiar calmness coming over me as Bronson grips my hand, but I’m still uneasy.
“It was announced. Congratulations you two.” His smile is honest, but the trepidation doesn’t leave his demeanor. “Callie, you need to go home after we finish dessert. Your father would like to see you.” Bronson immedi
ately bristles next to me, and before he is disrespectful to his father and causes a scene, I squeeze his hand.
“Yes, sir.” I agree. I knew it was coming. I was just hoping to have a moment’s reprieve and bask in the glory of today. I’ll be fine, I have too much to look forward to, and I won’t let him ruin it. He can’t do anything. He can be pissed and make it known behind closed doors, but he can’t change what was set in motion today. That’s what truly pisses him off. His control was stripped away in this decision, and that is the ultimate betrayal to him. One I will pay for, but I will gladly pay the piper for this transgression. We all try to keep up the facade of celebration; meanwhile we are all stewing in our own turmoil.
I start to collect my stuff from Bianca’s room and beg Bronson to let it go. He said he was driving me home, and I didn’t argue. I could use a few more minutes with him, some reassurance from my safe harbor before going home. Once I’m buckled in the front seat of his car, he unleashes. “I don’t like this one bit. I could pull rank, keep you here.”
“You’d just be postponing the inevitable and then it would be worse on me. Just let me go home tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I want you to promise me you’ll call if it gets to be too much, and I’ll pick you up in the morning at eight for breakfast.” I agree and then start adding up the hours I’ll have to be in that house. I’m truly terrified this time; it just seems ominous. Bronson must feel it too because he has a death grip on my hand the entire four blocks to my house, and his kiss is different. Desperation. He can’t get close enough, the kiss can’t last long enough, and when finally I think I’m going to pass out from lack of oxygen, he releases my lips. “You need anything, I’ll be here.”
“I know.” And I do know. He would do anything for me.
“Promise me. You aren’t in this alone. You never were.” I nod my head at him, willing the tears to stay at bay.
I give him one last kiss and make my way to the door. As soon as I shut the door, the first assault begins. “Bitch. Ungrateful, disloyal, lying whore.” Each word is like a physical blow to my body. “How did you get the son? On your back? Did you spread those ugly legs for him?” His verbal taunts don’t hurt, but the dirtying of what I share with Bronson cuts deep. Although it’s all untrue, I hate the way he makes it sound. He is tainting one of the purest things in my life. I know not to argue, not to answer back. That will just draw it out. I look up and see Marco sitting next to him, clearly enjoying the show.
Both of them have a glass filled with liquor, and the whole thing is painful. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. It all happened abruptly, and you know I’ve been close with Bronson my entire life. I thought this would please you. Being with the head of the family is the highest of honors.” I don’t know why I try to reason with him.
The glass shatters right next to my head, a shard bouncing off the wall and cutting my temple. I reach up and wipe the blood I feel running down my face. Shit. “Don’t think you’ve won, Callie. My plans will work out, but you have just made this so much worse. For both of you. You’ll learn not to cross me, and it will be a lesson you won’t ever forget.” I have no doubt. I just hope he spares Bronson in his game.
I make my way up to my room with the sinister laugh of my father and his henchman in the background. Checking the cut on my head, it isn’t bad, just a scratch. I pick a few slivers of glass out of my arms and turn on the shower. I make sure the door is locked, and I have my phone right next to me. I quickly wash off the filth I feel since entering this house. Dressed, locking my bedroom door, and climbing into bed, I long to call and hear Bianca or Bronson’s voice. They’re my whole world, and right now I am tipped on my axis, barely spinning. God, why did I have to get him as a father? I toss and turn most of the night and can’t wait to see Bronson pull up. I’m sitting out on the front steps waiting for him and can’t get into the car fast enough. He knows something is wrong, and before he can question me, I beg him. “Just drive. Get me out of here, please.” Luckily, I’m blessed, and he does. I know it’s not over, not by a long shot, but for now, I’m safe.
Chapter 4
Bronson
Watching her chew on her fingernails, not meeting my gaze, and the fact that she was outside waiting on me were clues things hadn’t gone well with her father last night. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I just went to bed,” she lies to me.
“Bullshit, Callie. Try again.” She doesn’t deny the lie she told, but she doesn’t answer me, either. I pull the car into the first parking lot I come to and stare at her. She is averting her gaze, staring at the empty space around us. “Turn around.” She doesn’t, and I’m fighting my frustration with her.
I get out of the car and walk to her side, opening her door, and before she turns her head, I see the red mark that mars her skin. Holding her head in place gently, I study the cut on her temple. I try to control my breathing, but by her wide eyes show she is frightened, and that guts me. “Sweetheart, don’t be afraid of me.”
“I-I’m not,” she stutters.
“You look like it. You know I’m not him. But, you have to tell me what happened.”
She shakes her head. Denying me the information I need, my mind is running rampant with scenarios, and all are ending with me killing the bastard that laid a hand on her. I tilt her head back, staring in her eyes, and let her see the concern in me.
“He was waiting. With Marco.” I close my eyes, tamping down my temper. She stops talking, and I know I have to gain some semblance of composure.
“Go on. Tell me everything.”
“Bronson, you can’t say anything to him. Please, it will make it worse, and he is still my father. He can forbid me to see you.”
“Over my dead body, Callie.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I bark out a bitter laugh.
“You know he can’t touch me.”
“But he can make it difficult for us until I’m eighteen.” Fuck, she has a point.
“Tell me. I need to know.”
“They were drinking. He’s angry, but I don’t know why. I tried to explain it to him, and he lost it. He threw his glass, and it shattered. The pieces happened to scratch me.”
I lean down and press my lips against the mark on her skin, breathing in her scent, trying to think, to do what’s right, only I don’t know what that is. My instinct is to buckle her up, go back to my house, and forbid her to leave . . . dare anyone to take her from me. I know that can’t happen. Just because I made my intentions known, her dad can still pull the age card, and he won’t be going against the rules, just delaying them. All reason is gone when it comes to her, which makes it dangerous. “Anything else? Do you have any more injuries?”
She holds up her arms, and I see a few tiny scabs, most likely from the glass. In that moment, I count my blessings she didn’t hide them, that she trusts me. I know in time she will turn to me for everything she needs, all her desires and wants . . . I will own them and provide them for her. For now, I have to keep her safe and her dad pacified. No easy feat. I don’t know this man’s agenda, but I do know the next few years will be hell, and I have to play his game; there can only be one winner, and I don’t doubt for a second that it will be me. I take a few breaths to try and calm my racing heart and the heat raging through my body.
“Bronson, don’t go to your dad about this. Please?” If she had asked me anything else but that, I would have agreed. I can’t justify not stepping in, protecting her, and the only person I know that I trust with her is my dad.
“I can’t make you that promise. I need to do something, anything to stop this from happening again. Damn it, he could have really harmed you last night? Don’t you see that?” I keep thinking of what might have happened. If the glass had hit her, or a piece had cut her vein . . . my head is swimming with the need to shelter her.
“It will only make it worse, you know that.” I do, but I’m willing to hope it may stop it for a while, to buy us some
time. “Bronson, listen to me.” The hitch in her voice, the pleading of her tone, it’s enough to deter me.
“For now, I promise. That’s all I can do.” As much as I hate this life, and the ranks and rules that are followed, they are the law in this world. I’m ready to clip Marco and her father myself. I vow my father will never vouch for Marco, and even though he isn’t a made man yet, he will be broken from this family, not even an associate.
“Thank you,” her meek whisper and glistening eyes meet my stare. I wrap her in my arms, breathe in the coconut scent of her hair, and pray that this is what will work. Somehow, I have to make it through with her unharmed.
I stand up, needing to distance myself from her physically, before I lose control of every emotion swirling through me. Anger is at the forefront slamming into my body, giving me blows that I want to take out on those that dare to hurt her. Lust burns through my veins and settles in the pit of my stomach, desire and love race through my heart, pumping it through my blood until it encompasses me. “Let’s go get you something to eat.”
“I’m not very hungry, can we just go hang at your house for a bit. Get Bianca and watch some TV?”
“Yes, but you will get something to eat there. I don’t want you worrying about this.” She is too damn tiny as it is, always picking at her food like a damn bird, and I’ll be damned if she stresses out and makes herself sick. Her weak smile is all I get, and I will work my ass off to see a genuine smile, relaxed, and happy for once in her life. She warrants it and so much more.
The drive back to my house is silent, filled only by the radio. I couldn’t tell you what was playing, but I was listening to her hum and lose herself in the music, and constantly scanning my face, my body, trying to get a read on me. Once we pull into my driveway, I shoot her a wink, “Relax. If you go in there all wound up and upset, it will raise questions, and if you want me to keep my promise then you need to let me handle it and take all your worry away. Give it to me, let me take care of you, baby.”
Bellissimo Fortuna (Beautiful Fortune) Page 3