Nothing. Absolutely zero enthusiasm or interest in my offer. Son of a bitch. All traces of my carefree girl from last night are gone. Replaced with the shell of Viviana I thought I’d cracked enough to obliterate. Splintered enough so the armor would never return. I can’t stand her despondency anymore. “About last night…I’m sorry. I know I asked you for something you’re not ready for.”
The damn carpet keeps her attention. Too hopeless to face me. I have to get her back. “I didn’t mean to rush you. I swear it won’t happen again.”
She murmurs her reaction, so faint and nervous, I can’t catch her words. “I couldn’t hear what you said angel.”
A long stuttered breath as her small hands ball into fists against her thighs as if gathering her courage. Her back straightens and her head lifts. Eyes tracking up my body until she finally meets my gaze. “I wanted to be with you too.”
This time I hear her. Barely louder than a whisper but still so fucking clear and unambiguous. My brave princess finally speaks up with what she wants. Confident until my dumb ass, too shocked to respond, steals some of her courage and she jerks backward, bumping into the bed again.
Nope. I’m not going to let her think she’ll ever be punished for being honest with me. “Really?”
Her head nods. Silky black hair sweeping up and down her hunched shoulders.
“I was trying to tell you that I needed to take off my make-up and brush my teeth first.” She tucks a wayward strand behind her ear. “But you didn’t seem to want me anymore. I didn’t know what to do.”
Fucking shit. I really am a god damn fool. Assuming what she wanted rather than letting her tell me. All this damn time I’m trying to build up her confidence, to not be afraid to express herself and instead, I decide what I think she wants. “I’m sorry. I seem to have a bad habit of interrupting you. Next time just tell me to shut the fuck up and let you talk.”
A stunned giggle breaks the tension. Both of us well aware she’d never speak to me or anyone else like that. Although I have to admit it’d be sexy as hell for my dainty princess to talk dirty to me. Maybe someday. My cock twitches from the thought, and I need to shut that shit down quick. We’re going to mass for fuck’s sake. But one last thing she has to know before we leave this all behind us. “For the record, I want you. I’ve always wanted you. No matter what other stupid shit I say or do, that will never change.”
Her authentic smile breaks through as she nods. Accepting my assertion and my apology. Time to restart this morning, and I hold out my hand again. But she has other ideas. Launching herself to me, I’m engulfed in a huge bear hug instead. Her grip tighter than I’ve ever felt from her. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy or this desperate for a woman in my fucking life to have her delicate body sheathed against me. Making me wish it was time for bed already. Probably better it isn’t.
“Thank you for taking me to church.”
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry they don’t have daily mass like you like. Only Wednesdays and Sundays, but I’ll keep searching to find another one for you so you can go every day.”
“It’s perfect.” Her head shakes. Rubbing her cheek across my jacket before she lifts up. “You look really nice.”
I skim over her dark pink dress, the vee in the front cut just low enough to reveal the hollow of her breasts. She’s breathtaking as always. “You look really nice too.”
Now I’ve made her really happy. Her small hand slides into mine, squeezing me all the way to the mud room where I assist her with her coat. I bundle her long hair together and pull the strands out from under her collar. Loving the feel of her under my control. Willing and without fear. I tug the pony tail to the left and taste her exposed throat, sucking the delicate skin even though I know I shouldn’t. I just can’t keep myself from relishing her.
“You didn’t kiss me last night.”
I fucking love the desire rasping in her voice. Fuck me. So damn busy beating myself up, I forgot what we both needed. “How could I have been so forgetful? I guess I need to make up for it now.”
Twisting the silky locks around my fist, I drag my lips across her bare neck. Nipping and licking while her head falls forward. A mewl of approval bubbling in her mouth.
It would be so damn easy to slide my hands around her torso. Palm her perfect tits. Tugging her rosy nipples taut before sliding lower to lift the hem of her dress and breach her tiny panties. Dragging my finger between her slick folds. Drenched with her desire for me.
But I can’t.
Grateful the thick material of our jackets diminishes my erection that I’m barely able to control from grinding into her back. If she was any other woman, I’d tip her forward, letting her luscious breasts hang over my forearm while I yank out my cock. Sliding my hand between the little gap in her thighs, urging her slender legs apart to glide the tip of my aching dick right to her throbbing clit. Torturing the fuck out of her in the most glorious way until I slid into her sweet wet pussy.
But she’s not.
She’s my angel who said yes to cuddling. That’s all. Ignoring the images of her under my delicious mercy, I give her a chaste peck on the satin skin of her shoulder and spread her hair gently across her back again. “Ready to go?”
Her petite body sways a bit when I release her waist and turn her around to me. Blushing and panting more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her. Loving how I affected her too. An emotion I hope is lust, if not love, blazes in her eyes as she gazes up to me. “You okay, princess?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Good.” I run my finger down her cheek. Smiling from her small shudder. “Then we better go.”
She nods and clutches my bicep while I escort her to the garage. Unbelievable how responsive she is after the hell she endured. Eliciting such a strong reaction out of her with a tender touch that motherfucker never once used. Never cared enough to try. Fucking fool. They would’ve had the perfect life if he only realized the gift he received. Now I’m the lucky bastard who won’t ever take her for granted.
Quiet as we drive, she frowns toward the windshield not seeming to really see the glass or anything beyond the hood with her faraway expression. My gut clenches wondering if she’s thinking of that bastard. If she’s comparing me to him.
“This feels so different than before.” Finally her questioning gaze shifts to me. “I guess that’s kind of obvious, isn’t it? But when you would take me to St. Mark’s, I loved going but it was also an escape. My only real opportunity to get away. But now I can really enjoy it. Without already dreading the end before it’s even started. If that makes sense?”
“It makes perfect sense.” I squeeze her fingers wrapped in mine. “I felt the same way. I fucking hated taking you home afterward. I hated taking you back to him.”
Shame battles with relief in her expression. I know she thinks the lack of remorse makes her a bad person. Although unlike me I know she’s not happy he’s dead. So I can be that person for both of us. Since I don’t carry an ounce of guilt, I’ll bear hers for her. “There’s nothing wrong with being glad he can’t hurt you anymore.”
“I guess so.”
All her reservations fade away when we turn into the parking lot of a small chapel. Practically a shack compared to the cathedral I used to take her to. Although you can’t tell any dissatisfaction from the pure joy brightening her face as she leans closer to get a better look. Her nose almost skimming the glass while she strains against her seatbelt. Not a bit of disappointment. I droop against my own seat in relief. If she’s happy, I’m happy.
No organ or choir greets us as we enter the vestibule. Only piped in music, ancient yet serene, resonates in the rose-scented air. Maybe a wedding or a funeral recently from the oversized peach bouquets centered in front of each pulpit. The lone bursts of color in the otherwise neutral decor of oak pews and white walls and pillars.
“I don’t see the confessionals.” She whispers and points to an older woman kneeling in the first row. “Maybe they’
re held in the sacristy.”
We stride to the front, and Viviana drops to her knees too behind the lady while I sit. Familiar feelings of peace flood through me watching my princess where she loves to be. I may not buy into all this organized religion with their stories of wise men following stars and a few fish turning into hundreds but the tales of betrayal and sacrifice sound too familiar. Maybe some threads of truth in the legends.
After a few minutes, a guy comes out from the doorway to the right of the altar joining, who I assume is his wife, in front of us. She remains bowed in prayer. I hop up too when Viviana rises. I won’t confess. The priest would probably stroke out after listening to my long list of transgressions; yet, I still need to make sure my girl remains safe.
An older man, dressed all in black except the white collar circling his throat, sits in the alcove. An empty seat waits across from him. He jumps up as we step inside. Surprise morphing into pleasure from the new parishioners.
“Good morning.”
He gestures to the plain wooden chair. The flush back and short seat seem uncomfortable, but she doesn’t hesitate. Almost running to accept his invitation. The situation appears legit. He’s a bit younger than her former priest with his dark hair free from gray and his build sturdy. I guess they still recruit nowadays. I nod to him and step back, assuming my usual post outside. Circumstances may be different but my protection of her never will change.
Unable to make out any words with the music and their soft voices, but I’m enthralled watching her. The most I’ve ever seen my princess talk. To me or anyone else. Fuck me if I’m not jealous. I want to know what she tells him. I want to hear everything she holds in her heart.
Until I see the worry line his expression. Eyes widening to disbelief. Then bewilderment as he shakes his head and grasps her hand. She smiles, her stunning, indulgent, forgiving smile and glances at me. As if reassuring me everything is all right. When clearly from the dread on his face, it isn’t all right at all.
Fuck.
Minutes tick by and sweat rolls down my temples and back. So fucking hot in here with the inferno exploding in me.
Other congregants fill the pews.
Two drowsy teenage boys, draped in black and white robes, exit from the sanctuary doorway to the left and begin lighting candles.
A woman carries a binder and a guitar to the podium. Strumming a few chords barely audible over the recorded violins echoing through the filling nave.
And still the confession doesn’t end.
Back and forth they talk. Appearing to disagree. Almost arguing. I tolerate their debate because I know this sacrament —these beliefs —are important to her.
Until she wipes away tears.
Motherfucker. I don’t give a damn if he’s a priest or not. No one makes her cry.
I storm in, and he flies up from his chair. Already raising his palms in surrender. Defending against the fury that must be raging on my face. Hot and pulsing skin from her broken breaths. “What’s wrong angel?”
“F —father Preston said I need my sacrament certificates. I tried to explain why I can’t get them, and he said he’s scared for my safety.”
Apparently she is too from the fear lurking in her sob. God fucking damn. I cut between them so she can only see me. Only see my face. Only see the sincerity in my eyes. I hunch down and cup her damp cheeks. “I will never hurt you. You know that. I love you Viviana.”
She nods in my palms. Her head bobbing furiously as her lips tremble. Gasping for air, trying to talk. “I know. I told him that you saved me. You want to keep me safe. But he doesn’t believe me. He said he won’t marry us. We can’t get married in the church.”
If murdering him wouldn’t break her heart, I’d end this bastard for telling her such bullshit. I don’t give a fuck about this religion or its arcane rules. But she does, and I’ll be damned if he fucks up what she wants. Especially when what she wants is to marry me.
I take her shaking hand in mine, and spin around. Keeping her hidden behind me. Protecting her from his disgust of me. “I don’t know what she told you or what you think you heard. But she’s innocent. Everything that’s happened is because of me. I’m the only who deserves blame in this situation. So don’t you dare fucking threaten her.”
His head twists side to side. Attempting to diffuse my rage. But nothing he can say or do will pacify me. No one fucking upsets my princess. “If she wants her wedding here, then she gets it. Do you understand me?”
“Mrs. Moretti–”
“Don’t you ever fucking call her that.” I squeeze her tiny fingers still clinging to mine. “That’s her old life. That’s over.”
A hard swallow before he nods. I’m already going to hell, so scaring the fuck out of a priest won’t make things any worse.
“I was simply trying to explain to…Mrs…Viviana…that marriage under these circumstances…in this situation…should not be entered into so quickly…with a crim…when a crime has been committed…”
He can barely get the words out. Sputtering and stuttering because he knows. She’s told him I’m a killer. Fuck me. At least she realizes everything I do is for her. And she still loves me. “Not against her. I would never lay a finger on her.”
“Mister…” He stalls with uncertainty. At least he doesn’t know who I am. “Please, I just want to help. She confessed to me. She desires to be absolved of her sins.”
Damn it. This guy really does want his ass beat. “I told you she doesn’t have any sins. She’s perfect.”
“She doesn’t see it that way.”
Of everything he’s said, that implication enrages me the most. I turn back to her, and her other hand clutches mine. As if trying to keep us tethered together. Like I’d ever fucking let her go. “You didn’t do anything wrong princess. You know it’s all on me. None of this will ever touch you. No one will ever blame you for anything.”
“But if you go to jail what will I do without you?”
That’s why she’s afraid. Not of me. Of losing me. My angel. “That won’t happen.” I’d have to call in every fucking favor I’ve ever earned, but she and I will never be separated. But I fucking love she wants the same thing. To always be with me too. “I swear.”
Her head flies up from watching our entwined fingers. Wild with realization as she shakes her head. “Priests can’t tell. No matter what you confess to them.”
“That’s true. I can’t.”
Now he fucking attempts to console her? Appease her worry? Fucking hell. Maybe he finally fucking realizes her fragility. How precarious her heart and mind are after the abuse she endured.
“I won’t ever divulge anything we’ve discussed here. Not even with a court order.”
His voice doesn’t wobble for the first time since we’ve engaged in this fight. Only giving me a bit of respite. Slowing my thoughts of taking off with her again. At least not yet anyway. Until I can figure out what the fuck to do. I’m a fucking fool for bringing her here. I should’ve known she would reveal what happened. Her pure soul can’t be bound with an immoral man like me, not even as an unwitting victim.
“See?” She tugs me down to her. Where I’m oh so willing to be except when she’s frightened. “It’s okay. We can be forgiven and then be together.”
So much optimism in her hopeful expression. My sweet princess thinks I can be forgiven. Can actually be saved.
“Knock. Knock. Knock.” A woman stands in the doorway, exaggerating her movements with her voice to grab our attention. She smooths down her skirt as dark red as her cheeks. “I am so sorry for interrupting. I would never normally intrude Father, but it’s five after ten already.”
“Thank you Carol. I’ll be right there. Please have Margaret start playing.”
Relief floods her face, and she scurries away. Ready to be free of the tension pervading the flowery air and back to the normal routine of the rituals.
“I’m sorry Viviana. I have to go.” Father Preston strides to a built-in wardrobe cabinet
and yanks open the door, lifting out a long, white garment. “But I want to speak with you again. As soon as Mass is over. Okay?”
No, not okay at all.
He doesn’t wait for her to answer, sliding the robe over his head. Blowing out a deep breath, he crosses himself with a shaking hand. Attempting to settle his nerves while I lead her out the back before he opens his eyes and finds us gone.
I take another long swallow. Bourbon on an empty stomach can’t be a good idea. Getting drunk with her here and confused is even worse. But I’ve exceeded my limit too. Edging the boundary of insanity I never thought I would cross over. I’ve always been confident, cocky if I’m fucking honest with myself. No reason not to be. I’m good at what I do. When I cared about what I was doing. Football. Security. Rescues. I never failed. That’s why this fuck up with her bothers me so much. I love her and can’t seem to get my shit together.
She probably sits on her bed. Waiting for me after I left her alone to change clothes. Wondering what to do since I’m not keeping my promises of mass or breakfast or peace. And I fucking do nothing. Don’t go to her. Don’t relieve her worry. Don’t tell her everything’s going to be all right. Because I don’t know any more if it is. If I can save her. From me or herself.
God damn it. I pour a third glass. My body warm and looser than my spinning mind. I hate making her suffer because of me. But she’s safe in her room for now. Later, I’ll get her. Later, I’ll be better. Later, I’ll be the man she needs.
Right now, I can’t do anything but think. And I’m fucking failing at that too.
“Roan?”
Impossible. My eyes fly open from her nervous whisper. My princess stands just outside the doorway. So fucking frightened to enter yet so fucking brave to try. Breaking through her insecurities to save me. To help me. To be with me. “Come here angel.”
She runs. My girl fucking runs to the bastard who keeps letting her down again and again. Sliding between my sprawled legs she kneels in front of me. Her small hands cupping my cheeks this time. I can’t help but chuckle.
192: A Dark Mafia Bodyguard Romance Page 14