192: A Dark Mafia Bodyguard Romance

by Nikki Belaire

  Or your bastard husband did. Fucker. I wait for her to buckle her seatbelt and turn back to me. Wishing I could permanently eliminate all the worthlessness she carries because of him. “I doubt that was because of you.”

  A shrug. Such an enormous burden behind that small gesture. Saddled with so much self-loathing she can’t comprehend that what I say is actually true. I gently push the door closed and load our stuff in the back. Slamming down the tailgate harder than I should. Taking my frustration out on my vehicle to keep the annoyance from her.

  Relief flows through me when she reaches for my hand as soon as I slide into my seat. For as shitty as her emotional state should be, I’m fucking grateful she hasn’t shut me out completely. Resurrecting my optimism that she can let me love her.

  “I even tried to volunteer once to help with one of the fundraisers. I was so excited, but they never called me. Which was probably for the best. Arturo was really upset with me. He didn’t like me to be away from home.”

  Yeah, I guess that’s a nice yet fucked up way to describe his obsession. I don’t even want to fucking know how he punished her for offering to help. Instead, I attempt to eradicate the consequences of his torture. “Did you ever think they were intimidated by Arturo? That maybe they were scared to talk to you because of him?”

  Her head shakes. Definitive in her conviction. “He always said they hated me because I was stupid and annoying and–“

  Fucking motherfucker. “No angel. None of what he said is true. I know that for a fact.”

  Small fingers squeeze mine. Uncertain if she reassures me or herself. Although I hate —fucking hate —hearing how he tormented her so much, the glimpses she shares reveal more than just the obvious abuse. Sparking the realization that his isolation from the rest of the world created the only reality she knows. His words and his fists reflect the only image she sees of herself. Me telling her differently isn’t enough. I need her to hear the truth from other people.

  “Want to know a secret?”

  Ever so slowly as not to spook her, I slide my hands around her small waist and nuzzle the side of her delicate throat. Easily accessible now with her long hair bundled in a ponytail low on her neck while she works. Fuck me if she doesn’t shiver from my whisper in her ear.

  “What?”

  “The batter tastes even better than the brownies.”

  “But you’re not supposed to eat it raw.” A short pink nail taps the bold letters on the cardboard. All wound up and adorable with her adamancy. “It says it right here.”

  “I like living dangerously.” I swipe my finger through the lumpy chocolate and bring the dollop to my mouth. She twists around in shock. My little rule follower can’t believe I’m so flippant about the risk. Huge eyes grow even bigger when I suck in the sweetness. “You should try it.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Sure you can.” I should stop. I should let her be. Let her enjoy her baking and the simple pleasures of learning how to pre-heat the oven and crack eggs for the very first time. But I just can’t seem to help myself. Not when I’m too damn happy she’s here and so blissfully content. “You’ll love it angel.”

  I slowly brush my damp finger across her lips, leaving a slight streak. A growl rumbles deep in my throat when her tongue follows the same path and licks the delicate rosy skin clean. “Want more?”

  A hard swallow bobbles in her graceful throat before she nods, and I bring another taste to her open mouth. Fuck me if she holds my gaze, drawing me in between her plump lips. Inside her hot wet luscious mouth that I can’t resist any more. Slow and gentle, I lean closer. Curling my other hand behind her head, I replace my finger with my tongue. Edging along the same trail before plunging inside. Rich and decadent and mine. Jesus.

  Another primal growl rips through my chest when her fingers ball in my shirt. Holding me tight. Keeping me close. Preventing me from stopping. Fuck that. I won’t quit until she tells me to.

  Soft. She’s so fucking soft and sweet. And I’m so fucking hard and hungry it hurts. But I hold back. Hiding the ferocious craving behind my gentle touch. Treating her like the princess she is. She responds with a restrained moan when I angle my head to sweep deeper inside until she finally pulls away. Giving me a few gentle pecks while we pant the same air.

  “I like it when you kiss me.”

  There’s so much more I want to do to you angel when you’re ready. I lay my forehead against hers. “I like it when you kiss me back.”

  “I’m sorry I wrinkled your fleece.”

  No fear. Sincere but without even an ounce of terror in her voice that I’ll be mad. That I give a damn about my pullover. Thank fucking god. We’re still making progress. “No worries. It’s an old one.”

  She tugs the silver tab on my chest and glides the zipper up an inch. “But you look very handsome in it.”

  Fucking hell. I think she’s actually trying to flirt with me. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She points to the waiting pan. A smooth, flawless surface except for the two divots from my swiping. “I guess it’s time to put them into the oven. Unless you want more.”

  Fuck princess, I want it all. “No, I’ll be good. For now.” I wink again just to make her blush before she turns around, and I enjoy the view of her cute ass as she bends to slide our dessert into the oven.

  “Okay, twenty-eight to thirty-two minutes.” She looks up from reading the final instructions. “What do you want to do while we wait?”

  My balls are screaming for mercy. Begging for relief from this innocent creature. I need a distraction. We both need a distraction. “Have you ever played poker?”

  Excitement rolls through her expression as her face lights up. “No.”

  “Then it’s time for you to learn.” And give me something else to focus on besides your temptation. I entwine her fingers with mine and lead her to my office. “I think I have some cards in my desk.”

  I rifle through the mostly empty drawers, strangely reflective of my hollow life. That I never realized before. Until now. Until this tiny beauty watching me with a jubilant smile moved in. Funny how much my life has changed —fucking improved —in less than twenty-four hours.

  Nothing. Maybe they’re in the curio in the den. I point to the console table under the flat screen. “Will you look in there please? I’m going to check the other place they might be. I’ll be right back.”

  The memory hits me as I’m jogging down the hallway. I last used the set when I was waiting for my flight out to end the bastard who thought kidnapping a newborn would bring his father to his knees. Luckily I brought him to his death before any harm could come to the baby. I head to the front closet and grab my backpack. Bingo.

  My heart continues to pound when I return to my office. No longer from the memory but from the exquisite woman engrossed in the mementos I begrudgingly displayed from my Mom’s nagging, I mean encouragement. I step next to Viviana as she studies my college diploma. “I’m surprised I even graduated the way I jacked around.”

  Her petite body jolts from my voice, and she spins around, knocking several photos from the wall in her frenzy. Unadulterated terror on her face as she hugs the drywall, Shirking away from me as the frames tumble to the carpet.

  “I’m sorry…You said…I didn’t mean….”

  Damn. Damn. Damn. I hold up my palms in surrender, reminding her I pose no danger, and shake my head. Somehow managing a reassuring smile. If I’m calm, she’s calm. Hopefully. “Nothing to be sorry about. You can look at them all you want.”

  At her slight nod, I slowly bend down and swipe the pictures from the floor. Holding them out for her to see, I tap on the top image. A rarity for the entire family to be together at one time, let alone all the guys dressed up in tuxedos. “This is Grant. He’s the oldest. Then me.” I point to the other smiling faces. Drunk on mischief and the open bar, everyone captured by the photographer in a genuinely carefree moment. “Then Amos, and the twins, Cory and Kyle, are the youngest.”


  A trembling finger floats above the glass as if she’s still afraid to touch the surface, and she points to my Mom and Dad, both of their faces flushed from the abundance of champagne. “Are these your parents?”

  “Yeah, Mike and Cheryl.”

  “They seem really happy.”

  “Well weddings usually are happy occasions.” Her burgeoning smile fades, and the darkness from Arturo’s bullshit shrouds her again. The light flickering off in her eyes. “For most people I guess, but not you.”

  She shakes her head. A fact no one would deny.

  “He doesn’t hit her?”

  I feel like I’ve been fucking punched myself from her inquiry. “No, he would never do that.” I slowly drift to each of my brothers. All of us asses sometimes in our own right, but not in the way she worries about. “They don’t hit either. Most men don’t.”

  I lose her for a few seconds with my assertion. Difficult for her to believe because all she knows is that husbands beat their wives. The war between the suggestion and her reality battles on her face as she processes the disconnect. “Our wedding will be happy.”

  My proclamation draws her back to the present. To us and no one else. Even though her gaze remains on the memories I hold in my hand. “You keep saying things like that.”

  “Because it’s true.”

  Long hair hides her face but her shoulders lift to her ears. Conveying the skepticism tensing her body. “I don’t know why you would want to marry me. I’m–”

  “Amazing.” Pre-emptive strike because I refuse to let her disparage herself. “You’ve endured so much and yet you’re still here. You haven’t given up. I mean you blow my mind princess how resilient you are. That you’re so fucking tough inside that tiny body.”

  Quiet as always when I praise her. Only hugs herself while I lift up my degree, letting my words sink in. Hopefully deep enough to last. “I earned a football scholarship and had a pretty good chance of going pro until I got one too many concussions. I settled for a degree in athletic training so I could at least still be involved with the team. All the partying without all the pain of practice.”

  Her head bobs again. Maybe she doesn’t know what practice is. Maybe she’s still too tangled in her own knot of confusion to ask. I slide out the photo underneath. “This is from my graduation ceremony. Hard to believe that was twelve years ago.”

  “You look like your Mom.”

  “Yeah, just so you know, a guy really doesn’t want to hear that he looks like a woman.”

  Finally, she giggles. Humoring me despite my lame joke. Always so kind for someone treated so maliciously. I hook the picture back on the nail and slide out my phone. “I think we need to add a few more.” My first ever selfie. Hers too from the inquisitive study of the screen when I lift up the cell. I angle her between my legs and dip down so our cheeks touch. “There we are…smile angel.”

  God she’s fucking beautiful. I swear I can even see her halo in the reflection. “Perfect. I’ll have a print made and we’ll display it right there.”

  Her gorgeous smile wobbles when I drum my knuckles against the plaster. Curling her lips together as emotion floods her face. I shove my phone back in my pocket and cup her wet cheeks. Not sure how I fucked up, but I will, by god, fix whatever I’ve done wrong. “Fuck princess. Why are you crying?”

  “I’m going to be part of a family.”

  Happy tears. My girl cries tears of joy. Damn. My body softens against hers, and I wrap my arms around her, kissing her silky hair under my chin. “You already are, and they’re going to love you just as much as I do.”

  She snuggles in but stays quiet. Maybe not ready to accept my inadvertent declaration of love. But that’s okay. We’ve got plenty of time for me to convince her. “I thought maybe we’d have them over sometime once you get settled.”

  Delicate arms squeeze me tighter. I’ll take that as a yes. One more connection I want to build for her. “What about your degree?”

  Stepping back from my embrace, she nods. Earnest and proud of her accomplishment that I know she worked hard to earn rather than me who barely scraped by. “I have my bachelor’s in international studies. I mean I wasn’t allowed to go on campus to take classes. I had to take them all on line, but I earned a four-point-o. I think it still counts.”

  I hate the question in her tone. “Hell yeah it counts.” I nudge her shoulder with my own. Giving her an approving nod. “We’ll get a copy of your diploma and hang it up too.”

  Dainty fingers brush over the space next to mine. “Really? You’re going to hang it on your wall?”

  “Our wall.”

  Damn her blush is adorable. “I’m impressed by your major. That’s a tough subject. What made you pick it?”

  “I thought someday I might get to travel the world. Maybe see some of the places I read about.”

  She shakes her head. As if the idea is too preposterous to ever happen. When, whether she realizes the error or not, she is so unbelievably mistaken. “If you could go anywhere, where would you choose?”

  “Florence. I’d love to visit where my mother grew up.”

  Not even a second of hesitation. Obvious she’s thought about this visit a lot. Probably dreamed about the trip for years. Now I’m going to fucking love making her dream come true. “Done.”

  Her squeak of laughter expresses her disbelief. “You’re silly.”

  Nope, not at all. I’m in love and want to make you happy. “I’m serious. We’ll check out some travel websites and make our plans. Anything you want. It’ll be the perfect honeymoon.”

  I’m grinning like a fucking fool too. Because I love making her excited. Giving her something wonderful to look forward to, just like I am. Fucking stoked by the fact that I’m going to give her all the things that bastard never could. Never would. Except maybe he did. Maybe he did, and then he fucking ruined it for her. And I’ll overcome all of that bullshit too. Replace everything he destroyed with our memories for our wall and stories for our kids.

  I glance at my watch again. She’s been in there for fifteen minutes. I know she’s safe, and I’m in no hurry because, here with her, is the only place I ever want to be. But I don’t like her stalling. Hiding from me. Or herself. I rap on the louvered white door. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I just…”

  “What?”

  “I was trying on the panties.”

  Jesus. My princess wearing nothing but panties. I barely hear her shy admission and hope she doesn’t hear my chuckle from her awkwardness. I’d never want to hurt her feelings. “Do they fit?’

  “Yes.”

  “Good, then we’ll get them all. Now show me the sweater dress when you’re ready.”

  Only a few seconds pass before the silver handle twists down and she steps out. Her gaze flicking from the hardwood floor to me and back again waiting for my appraisal. Fuck me. She’s gorgeous as always. I don’t know jack shit about fashion but the rich olive fabric complements her dark hair and eyes. Skimming over her elegant curves while remaining surprisingly demure, covering her from the cowl neck, down to the hem brushing her black boots. “You look beautiful.”

  She beams from my compliment and twists and turns, checking herself out from all angles. God would l love to fuck her in that three-way mirror. Her perfect tits smashed against the glass while I take her from behind. Buried deep inside her wet pussy with my fingers stroking the silky petals of her clit and her moaning in my ear. Shaking my head, I stifle a growl. Fuck, I need to get myself together. “What do you think?”

  “I love it. Do you think it will be okay for the party?”

  “It’ll be perfect.”

  Despite her need for additional clothes, I swear she’s more excited about the lodge event than the shopping itself. Her smile never wavering after we read the flyer pinned to the community board as we walked along the cobblestone sidewalk through the town plaza. Advertising the tailgate-style party to watch the weekend’s college basketball tournament. Providing t
he perfect reason to get together and enjoy brews and brats and all kinds of other junk food snacks and drinks. Rewarding me with a gigantic hug when I asked her if she wanted to go. Probably the exact opposite of the fancy hors d’oeuvres and expensive champagne she’s used to. Somehow I have the feeling she’ll enjoy chili and hot wings even more.

  She returns to her dressing room, and I drop to my seat again. Trying not to be too conspicuous as I adjust the increasing discomfort in my jeans. Knowing my attempts to conceal my desire are pointless. With the constant thoughts of her in her thong at this little boutique and the sports bras at the athletic store and cuddling during a cozy dinner at the newly opened French bistro, circling in my head, I’ve been tempted again and again. Enduring all of her enticement, only to end the night alone in my bed. Yet worth all the torture knowing she’ll be here when I wake.

  Which continues to amaze me she’s even here at all. When I planned her rescue I never imagined she would adapt so easily and we’d be visiting the little shops I never had any interest in before. Planning to go to mass on Sunday from the church I found for her. Acting like a fucking girl and taking selfies. I grab one of the bags sitting next to my bench and slide out the frame. I’m still fucking awed to have a woman this unbelievable. Not just physical. I mean yeah she’s fucking stunning. But so sweet yet resilient. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so damn perfect.

  “Roan?”

  And there goes my cock again. I return the photo to the sack and shoot up, along with my curious dick, and stride toward her soft voice. “Yeah, angel?”

  “I just want to say…” Her dainty feet flex on the other side of the flimsy plywood. The only part of her gorgeous body that’s visible. Which makes me want to bust through and see her delicate face too. But I force myself to hold back. She keeps the barrier between us for a reason and as much as I fucking hate the obstruction, I need to give her the distance she requests. “…I wanted to tell you that I’m glad you didn’t take me back.”