by Bry Ann
“I’ll let you two see each other. Call me when you want to finish cleaning Miss Lacey.”
“Thank you Mirial.”
The women smile at each other and Mirial leaves quickly. As soon as Mirial is gone Lacey ducks her head shyly, hair covering her face, blocking those grey eyes from view. God, I missed her.
“I leave for a while and you take over my staff?”
I lean against the wall and smirk. Lacey bites her lips to hide her laughter. She looks up at me out of the corner of her eye, eyes clearly dancing with amusement.
“Mirial and I get along. I met her by accident and, um, she liked my cooking.”
The smile she tries to hide says it all. Like Lacey’s cooking, and she likes you. Knowing Mirial and her impressive kindness and ability to read people, I'm sure she absolutely doted on Lacey. Which she needs. Absolutely. I'm glad they found each other. I would have never thought to suggest it. Of course, I had no idea cooking meant that much to her.
“Well,” I push off the wall, “Impress me. What have you been making?”
“Sit, I’ll make you a plate.”
Her voice is soft, but she points to the chair with finality. I sit and think thoughts that I know are poison. I can see her ruling with me. She’s strong enough, more than smart enough and not at all naive. But it’s more than that. I can see myself settling with her. When I do my time, set my legacy, live through all this, I can see us enjoying evenings like this on a regular basis. Somewhat settled. As settled as a man like me will ever be.
I shake my head and watch Lacey scramble around the messy kitchen. I gotta say, with the exception of the other time she cooked for me, this is the messiest I’ve ever seen this house. That’s a huge no for me. I'm clean to a clinical degree. Somehow I'm willing to tolerate the mess with her. Just to see her in her element.
She opens the fridge and…
“Jesus Christ Lacey. Have you left the kitchen at all?”
“Most of it is leftovers, but yeah,” she blushes, “me and Mirial have been in here a lot. She’s been helping me get me back into the swing of things. I feel…”
She shakes her head, cutting herself off. Mental note to give Mirial a raise.
“Leftovers from who?”
“Rose, Sven, your men,” she says, pretending to focus fully on making my plate. “We wrap up plates for them and bring them over each night. Well, not every night, but most nights since… you know.”
I left.
“Explains the smile one of my men nearly let slip in front of me.”
“Really?”
She looks up quickly, eyes glowing.
“Yep.”
She sets a plate in front of me, and stares at it, then me.
“There you go.”
I glance down at the plate. A mix of several different entrees, sides, and desserts fill the plate. It barely all fits on there.
“Is it Thanksgiving or something?”
She scrunches her face, clearly taking offense to what I just said.
“That’s not Thanksgiving! It’s all the wrong foods.”
God, I had no idea she was such a foodie.
“I haven’t celebrated Thanksgiving since I was a kid. I don’t remember all the foods people use to fatten themselves up with to celebrate the destruction of the Native Americans.”
Her jaw hits her chest.
“It’s been that long since you’ve celebrated Thanksgiving! Well, if I'm here I will make sure you get a chance to celebrate. If not then, um, I’ll tell Mirial to give you no choice. And, sir, stop trying to ruin good things. It’s a day to be thankful.”
I grab her wrist from across the table. Not giving a shit about my food.
“Come here.”
“I….”
“Am I going to have to come over there?”
She looks down and gently pulls her hand away. She slowly makes her way around the island. When she gets to me, she just stands there. About a foot away. All her walls are up. She’s hesitant and guarded.
“Come here.”
I tug her arm so she’s pulled right into my lap, her back to my front. I wrap my arms around her waist. She stiffens.
“Your foods gonna get cold,” she whispers, trying to distance herself from me.
“What’s going on?” I tuck my head into the crook of her shoulder.
“Nothing.”
I sit back and place my finger under her chin, gently turning her face towards me.
“I’ll repeat. What’s wrong?”
“You were gone for a long time.”
I wait, knowing there’s more. I trace my fingers along the back of her sweatshirt, feeling her relax into me.
“And I… well, um, was scared you’d change your mind.”
It’s my turn to stiffen. She continues rambling, probably after feeling me go ramrod straight.
“I just… it’s one thing when it’s just us. You’ve always been fine when it’s just us in private, but…”
She doesn’t even have to finish. I understand. I use whatever strength I can muster from my trip and stand up, pulling her up into my arms.
“What are you doing? Your food? The mess?”
“Mirial!” I shout. “Clean up the kitchen.”
I turn to Lacey.
“See. Handled.”
“No don’t make her clean it all!” She wiggles in my arms. “Mirial, I'm sorry. I got it. I…”
I throw her up once and catch her, just to shut her up. She glares at me but keeps her mouth shut the rest of the way. She’s stiff, not looking at me. This woman has more independence and will than anyone I’ve ever met. I stalk to our room and throw the door open. I see the guards smirk when I pass. They’ll pay for that.
But not now.
Later.
I kick the door shut and set Lacey on the ground. The second I'm sure she has her footing I kiss her, sending her falling back into the door. She gasps, but reaches around and digs her fingers into my back.
My tongue slips into her mouth. Every time I grind against her, her fingers dig in further. I force myself to pull away.
I trace my finger over her cheek.
“Never again. I swear Lacey. No matter how long I'm gone. No matter what happens. I could never hurt you. Not again.”
“What are we doing Adam? What are we doing?”
Her grey eyes bore into me, looking desperate.
“I'm healing you.”
Right? That’s what I'm doing with her. Healing her. Face palm, if there was ever a time for one.
“Come on Adam.”
Her hand finds my arm.
“What are we doing?”
I look down at the hand that’s so gently touching me. It’s shaking. I place my hand on top of hers and look at her.
“I don’t know. I don’t know Lacey.”
She looks down at her feet.
“We’re gonna destroy each other.”
“I want you better. You’ve been doing well under the care of the doctor and therapists.”
She gives me that incredulous stare again. She yanks her arm off me.
“You either keep me or let me go! Forget the doctors and therapists. This is about us. I'm not temporary!”
Before I can even think she’s throwing the door open and running off.
I…
She found her voice.
Chapter 17:
Rose:
Sven is wearing his smug demeanor like armor, but I see the pain in his eyes. He can't fool me. Not only do I have experience with people who have past trauma, but I also know him. I know instantly what he’s about to tell me cuts him. It cuts him real deep.
“I'm sure I had real parents. I mean I was born so I came out of someone’s vagina.”
“Sven…”
“What? I never met them. Now back to the story, no interrupting.”
He glares at me, but all I see is the hesitancy in his eyes. The hesitancy and pain all wrapped up in harsh dominance. I nod silently. He c
an’t handle my interruptions. He needs my attention and compassion, not my words.
“As a stupid kid, I thought the people I was raised with were my parents. Savannah and Gregario.”
He spits the words out like they’re poison.
“Savannah was my caretaker. Gregario ran the criminal organization I was raised in.”
I stiffen.
“Sven…”
“Shut up Rose!” He paces the floor, getting more agitated by the second. “I was the outlet. Whenever things went wrong in the gang, they failed a job, succeeded a job, basically whenever they wanted someone to fuck with, I was there. It was Savannah’s job to take care of me. To make sure I wasn’t damaged beyond repair. I thought she loved me. I thought she was my mom, but she definitely wasn’t. She was just his whore! Gregarios ‘girlfriend’.”
“What did they do to you?” I ask breathlessly, feeling heart shatter into a million tiny pieces. Pain. He knew too much of it, far too young. He doesn’t need to admit he was kidnapped for me to know he was kidnapped before he even knew what the word meant. Sven was never a natural born criminal. He is just a little boy who wanted love and never got any. I rub the spot where my heart is held captive.
“Whatever they wanted!” he roars. “Whatever they fucking wanted Rose. I was a toy. Nothing more.”
“How did you find out they weren’t… they weren’t your… um…”
“Parents?” he laughs bitterly. “When Savannah cheated on Gregario, and he killed her. In front of me. And asked me to dispose of her body.”
All the blood rushes to my ears. I can’t think. All the years I spent helping young women in Illinois, and I’ve never heard something this horrific.
“It raised my suspicions. I went off to find answers. When I left I learned to fight, I became smart. I quickly learned I preferred my brain over my fists. When I was smart enough, I went back and killed them all to avenge her. Not that Savannah deserved it, but whatever.
This is why I'm not big on killing or violence. I refuse to be him. I want to be smarter. A useful criminal of sorts. I don’t want to be someone who causes nothing but chaos. Don’t get me wrong. I like chaos,” he smirks, “but controlled. Controlled chaos.”
“Are you okay now?” I stutter. I know it’s a stupid question, but my mind can’t make peace with this.
Sven turns me with a sad smile on his face.
“Is the past ever really the past Rose?”
No.
“Why did you avenge her? Savannah I mean. Why did you avenge her if you didn’t think she deserved it?”
His sad smile falls, morphing into something fierce. “She may not have deserved it, but she still took care of me. Raised me. Cared for me in her own way. I couldn’t live with myself if I let the only person who gave something of a damn about me rot in the trees without justice.”
He shrugs.
“Just had to do it.”
Is he loyal?
“You’re a puzzle, Sven. I'm never going to be able to figure you out.”
“I'm offering you a lifetime to try, but you keep pushing me away.”
A lifetime?!
“You don’t know what you’re saying. I'm a mess. I'm… I have baggage. I don’t know how I feel about you. I'm flawed and crazy and scared and way too needy.”
“I like your mess. I like your crazy, and I'm sure as fuck capable of handling your baggage.”
“Always cocky,” I mumble. “You barely know me!”
“I know enough.”
I snort. “Well then.”
Sven shakes his head.
“The point of what I told you is not to make you feel sorry for me or to try and convince you I'm secretly a good guy, it was to tell you that everyone wants love and everyone overlooks shit in its conquest. Even men like me.”
“You’re being so mature. I don’t know how to take all this.”
He smirks. “You could start by realizing I'm making an effort here. Something I don’t do lightly. You could maybe try and return the effort. I'm not asking for a declaration of love or anything remotely close to that, not yet. I just want to know you’re willing to try.”
“Why me? Why not pick a woman who’d love your protection? Who’d revel in the fact that you give her the resources and support she needs to feel healthy. A woman strong enough to deal with the life you have, because Sven, I'm not strong enough for this.”
“Because, little Rose,” his hand grazes my cheek as his eyes gleam with mischief, “You love my protection. You love to feel healthy, even though you fight me. And I don’t give a fuck about how you fit in with this life. You’re mine. Not the Mafia’s.”
“You know how to sweet talk. I’ll give you that.”
“I’ll take it.”
He smiles. I shake my head because if I didn’t he’d see me smiling too.
“Is your room still… open?”
A devilish smile spreads across his lips. My heart flutters. Well, my heart and some other parts I'm still trying to ignore.
“Depends on who’s planning to show up.”
“Just some girl with a whole lot of issues, but she’s kind of pretty.”
“Ah, I see. I always have room for her.”
“Yeah?”
“Definitely.”
As if we hadn’t just discussed his serious childhood trauma, he turns from me and strolls on over to the bathroom. I stare at him jaw dropped.
Buzzzzz.
The sonicare?! Is he fucking kidding me? He’s brushing his teeth right now?! I throw my head back. This man drives me nuts! I'm about to tell him so when pounding on the door jolts me. Sven rushes out, throwing his toothbrush in the sink. Somehow he has no toothpaste around his mouth and his back to looking immaculately put together.
Fuck him.
I start to crawl backward when Sven looks back, pinning me with his dark gaze.
“Don’t run. I got you.”
With that, he throws the door open. The Boss is standing there. Cool as ever. Calm. Controlled.
“Care to fill me in now?” Sven snaps.
“First I talk to Rose. Then we talk.”
My eyes go wide. Me? He’s never so much as said hello to me without a reason. None of his reasons ever seem to work out for me either. Just look at my foot.
Bang! The sound from the bullet rings in the back of my mind. A phantom pain throbs all throughout my foot. No. Sven, please don’t let him talk to me. I can’t be alone with him.
“Boss,” Sven growls.
“I can’t focus on talking to you if I don’t get some answers from Rose first.”
Sven moves to block the doorway. I may be naive, but holy fuck, he just made a move against his boss. I'm seriously worried for Sven until I see the Bosses face soften, slightly.
“I just need to talk to her about Lacey. You have my word she will be in the same condition you left her, physically and mentally.”
Well, that’s chilling in its own way. There’s a long standoff between the two powerful men. My heart stutters when I see Sven’s dress shoes shift to the side. He gestures his arm out to the side towards me. God, no. Please, Sven!
“You’ll be fine Rose. Go on. Get this done so I can get the answers I need to help you.”
I look at him desperately. Please don’t make me do this. Please. Please. Please.
“Come, Rose,” the Boss says, working to control his patience.
I slowly push off the bed, shaking. I can’t stop my it. He terrifies me. Sven grabs my wrist and pulls me flush against his chest.
“Relax,” he breaths before kissing me so aggressively I momentarily forget what was making me so afraid. Slowly his lips pull off mine. When there’s a good several inch space between us he spins and pushes me towards Boss.
“Go on little Rose.”
I can hear the humor in his voice. Asshole! Now I'm not only scared but disoriented as well. Fantastic. The boss doesn’t talk as he leads me down a series of hallways. He stops when we reach an office
. He opens the door and extends an arm gesturing for me to go inside. Shakily, I follow his lead. I hover awkwardly in the corner.
“You can sit Rose,” he says, gesturing to a chair.
I quickly sit.
“We got off on a bad foot,” he tugs at the cuff of his sleeve before turning to look at me. “I have no reason to hurt you. More than that, you are my main man’s woman. He loves you.”
He raises a hand before I can protest.
“Don’t be stupid. He loves you. Lacey loves you. So you are protected. You don’t need to cower when you see me anymore. Anyway, onto why we are meeting. It’s about Lacey.”
“Is she okay?” I blurt out quickly.
“She’s fine. It’s about… me. And her.”
My eyes go wide. He avoids my gaze completely. Oh my God, he is asking me for relationship advice? The Mafia Boss. This may be one of the best days of my life. I feel a smirk pull at my lips.
“Oh,” I say.
He glares at me. “Yeah.”
He doesn’t like me very much, but I don’t care in this moment. This is too good.
“How can I help?”
I lean forward onto the desk.
“Lacey’s confused.”
My eyebrows furrow. “How so?”
“She gave me an ultimatum.”
“She what?”
“She told me I either let her go, implying now, or I keep her.”
My eyes are so wide I feel like they are going to pop out of their sockets. I have to pull it together. This is my element. I spent years talking to girls. I know where they are at when they give ultimatums. I have also talked to lots of people receiving them. Talking to people, helping them, that’s my element. I clear my throat and sit up straighter. I stare harder at the desk than him. I may know what I'm doing, but every time I look at him I turn into a stuttering mess. I can’t believe he’s talking to me about this. He fucking shot me! He sent Lacey out for slaughter. So, yeah, I can’t look at him. But I can help him. For Lacey.
“What do you want?”
“What?”
“What do you want?”
“You know it’s not that simple,” he growls.
“You’re right. It’s not. But for the sake of this conversation, answer the question. Please,” I add quickly when I feel his glare become more intense.
“What I want doesn’t fucking matter Marketta!”