Maria turned to Bianca, a smile on her face as she set the food down in front of her. Bianca smiled back, always polite . . . to everyone but me. I cleared my throat. “Maria, this is my wife, Bianca.”
Maria looked at me in shock, her eyes already filling with tears before she looked back at Bianca. She picked up her hand, noting the absence of a ring and patted her hand. “Such a pretty girl for my boy. He’s a good man.” She tilted her head. “Rough, but good.”
If only she knew how rough I could truly be and I wasn’t even talking about my day job. She turned to me, still holding Bianca’s hand. “You buy her a ring. Other men will try to take her.”
I swallowed hard. It wasn’t like I hadn’t tried, but ever since I left the little box for her, I’d heard nothing about it. She got it, I knew, but never once had she placed it on her finger. I cleared my throat again. Nothing made me more vulnerable than scrutiny from people who have known me my whole life. “Well . . .”
Before I could finish my sentence, Bianca spoke up. “I have a ring, I just forgot to put it on after doing some dishes today.”
It was a partial truth, but I appreciated her offering it. Maria’s face lit up with Bianca’s admission. She let go of Bianca’s hand and reached up to pat my cheek tenderly before pinching it and kissing my forehead. “You are a good boy.”
I hadn’t been good or a boy for some time, but I appreciated the sentiment. “Thank you, Maria.”
She gave us both hugs, her excitement infectious, before she left us promising to share the news. When she was out of sight, I picked up my fork. “You didn’t have to lie to her, but thank you.”
“There was no reason to lie to her. You had bought me a ring.” She took a bit of the pork ladled in green sauce sitting in front of her and moaned around her fork. She chewed, her eyes completely closed until she swallowed. Fuck, I rubbed my palm over my cock, trying to adjust myself from the sudden hardness she just enticed.
Trying to take my mind off the sight in front of me, I asked, “Are you going to wear it?”
I took a bite of my own food, savoring the burst of flavor. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Why is that?” I felt a bit disappointed.
“If I do decide to wear it, I want it to be when I feel completely committed to you. I am your wife, Royal. I know that to be true in all the official capacity. But you’re a stranger to me.”
“I didn’t seem to be a stranger when you were coming around my fingers,” I reminded her.
She kicked me under the table. “That was one moment of weakness that you can’t hold over my head. Besides, we are strangers, don’t you think?”
I guess we were, yeah. “So, what are you suggesting?”
“I want to get to know you before I can decide if all this is worth it,” she confessed, and it stung. The moment I saw her, I knew she was worth it, at least to me, and it hurt a little that she doubted my worth.
“Are you suggesting I . . .” I paused, trying to think it through, “date my wife?”
“Yes. I mean . . . no.” She sighed. “I mean, I don’t know, I just feel like I can’t put your ring on my finger until I feel something for you.”
Ouch. That was actually painful to hear. “You feel nothing for me? At all?”
“I mean, lust.” She rolled her eyes. “A whole lot of that, honestly. But, we can’t build anything on lust alone.”
Want to fucking watch me? I could build whole fucking walls on lust alone, and if she thought lust wasn’t a solid foundation to a relationship, I sure as hell had a lot to show her. But I stayed quiet, knowing the challenge she just issued was a hundred fucking percent accepted.
When I didn’t respond, she continued. “I have to be honest here, you’re not the man I would pick.”
I quirked a brow. “And why is that?”
She looked at me like I was crazy for not knowing, but answered anyway. “Well, to start with, you’re a criminal, a shady lender, and I’m pretty sure that fighting ring I witnessed wasn’t legal.”
I licked my suddenly dry lips, pondering her words. “Fair enough. But that’s not all I am.”
“Isn’t that all that really matters? The fact that your morals lean on the side of questionable means that you would be one of my last choices.”
“Questionable by your standards or society’s? It appears that you only want to see what makes me an unlikely candidate, but what about the favorable qualities?” I held my fingers up to tick off all the qualities I would like in my own mate. “Loyal. Charitable. Fair. Sexy as sin. Don’t even get me started on how I fuck.”
She laughed dryly. “I would hardly count the last two as favorable qualities, those are biased opinions.”
“I could show you.”
She held up her hand. “I’ll pass.”
My phone rang, and I was thankful for the distraction to get us away from this conversation that had quickly gone downhill. Bianca could think what she wanted, but I knew I was willing to put forth the effort to prove her wrong, one day at a time. I excused myself and answered my phone, disappointed with the whole night in general.
CHAPTER 19
BIANCA
He hadn’t lied when he said he was sexy as sin. Hell, just watching him drive with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his muscled arms exposed had me squirming in my seat. Memories of only a few hours ago turned me on without him even looking at me. He was sulking, and it was sort of cute.
We turned into the underground parking structure from the very first night I met him. His phone call was short, and although he regretted it, he had to go take care of something. He offered to drop me off at home, but then how would I get to know my husband if I didn’t see how his life is run.
He wasn’t happy that I stayed with him, in fact, he tried on numerous occasions to change my mind, but that only encouraged me more to tag along. “So how many people have you killed here?”
He turned his head to stare at me. “Amore, despite what you think, I don’t enjoy killing people.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t think you did. That’s why you have Troy do it,” I confirmed, smiling to myself because I knew I hit a truth.
He sighed, parked the Hummer, and turned toward me. “Troy doesn’t enjoy killing either.”
“He sure did a number on my father,” I pointed out.
“Troy used to be a fighter here. He likes knocking people around, but never actually killing them—well, for the most part. But we run a business. We always abide by our part of the deal, unfortunately, in situations such as your father’s, the other party does not. Not all loans are frivolous. A lot of them go to helping families, working people, at rates lower than a bank when the bank denies them. They are honest, they pay us back, and that’s that. Others take the loans with the intent to deceive.”
I wasn’t convinced he was as good as he was trying to make himself seem; he did force me to be tied down to him after all. “So these fights, they are perfectly legal, then?”
He let his head flop back against the seat. “You know they are not.”
He pulled the door open before I could speak and jogged around to open my door. Always the gentleman. When I was out of the car, his fingers tangled with mine again and he pulled me along after him, through a dark tunnel I vaguely remembered from my first time here.
“If you know they aren’t legal, why do them?” I continued my probing.
“People need money. Sometimes, desperately so. I can’t employ everyone, and this is an easy way for a solid man to make some side cash. People love violence and wasting their hard-earned cash on betting.”
What he didn’t mention—but I knew he was thinking—was other people like my father loved wasting other people’s hard-earned cash on betting. “You’re such a martyr, aren’t you, Royal?”
It was said with such sarcasm, and judging by the slight upturn of his lips that I caught as we passed a light, he found it amusing. “I mean, call me what you will.”
“Jackass,�
�� I grumbled.
“What was that?” he laughed.
“Nothing.” He squeezed my hand tighter as we walked through the door to the fighting stadium. The crowd looked like it was just beginning to gather, the time still somewhat early. “What time does the fight start?”
“Two hours. I was planning to have Troy take you home before then,” he informed me as he pulled me down the aisle toward the set of offices I knew were in the back.
“What if I want to stay?” I hadn’t decided if I actually wanted to, but just in case.
His face looked displeased. “Then I let you stay.”
“But?” I prompted.
“But what, Bianca? You are determined to do what you want anyway. If you want to stay, stay. Search out all my flaws you’ve been seeking all night, then when you are ready, come look for my positive attributes; they aren’t going anywhere.”
Well, this date had definitely nosedived, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was my fault. Royal was right, I was searching for his flaws when really, he was trying. Hell, all night he had been polite, taking me out to a place that was personal to him, opening doors, giving me an orgasm. An orgasm had to count as good manners, right? Maybe it was me who needed to try a little harder.
“I, ah . . .” I paused, “I wasn’t trying to,” I offered.
He leveled me with a look that I assumed if given to anyone else would scream, fuck off. “Really, Bianca. You weren’t?”
I suddenly hated how he was using my name instead of the annoying pet name he always called me. “Maybe a little. But. . .” I struggled to find a viable excuse before finally giving in. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t verbally accept it, but he squeezed my hand before opening a door at the end of a hallway. The room was smaller than the ones I had previously been in, but also much cleaner. It was obviously his office; the smell of his cologne hit my senses the moment I stepped in.
“Nice place.” My heels clicked against the floor as I walked toward the desk in the windowless room.
“Now I’m feeling mocked. It’s a shithole.”
In general, it was true about this whole location, but what would one really expect from a fight club . . . if that was what this really was? “But, this is the nicest place in a shithole.”
I leaned against the desk, waiting to see what we were here for. Royal didn’t make me wait long as he pulled a thick book out of the drawer and searched around in it until he found a single, wrinkled, slip of paper. He pulled the paper out triumphantly before searching his pocket for his phone.
He dialed, then his eyes found mine as he waited for an answer. Were his eyes always so dark? His gaze stripped me bare, and without even realizing it, a shiver racked my body. His palm causally found my thigh and it wasn’t intended to be sexual, but even his most innocent of touches had my blood instantly boiling.
It’s the lust talking, I reminded myself. Always the lust when he was near. He caught my eyes wandering, and his eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement. His thumb began to draw a slow circle on my leg and I knew this time, it was completely unintentional, but I couldn’t help let a small whimper escape. His eyes turned fiery and his tongue darted out and licked his lips.
If I leaned forward and kissed him, that would be innocent enough, right? A small little peck to drive home how sorry I was for the attitude tonight. I tilted my body, leaning toward him instead of away like I had so many times before, and he froze. Not willing to move or meet me halfway, staying true to his word that if a move was made, it had to be by me.
A small peck wasn’t a move, though, right? Not really.
I tilted my head, trying to make up for the differences between heights. My hand instantly went to the stubble of hair peppering his cheek and the rough prickles against my fingers sent jolts through my body. Was this here earlier? I couldn’t remember. Had I ever touched his face before to find out? My mind wandered to all the times he had initiated kisses and made a move to touch my lips, my cheeks, my neck. But, had I ever done so first?
His cologne was scattering my brain. The intoxication that swirled around us was enough to make even the heaviest of drinkers drunk. I was a lightweight. One inhale, and my nerves were tingling, my nipples pebbling, my thoughts escaping me. I leaned in further, taking another inhale, knowing inebriation had already taken hold and that another hit of my new-found drug of choice couldn’t do me any more harm than it already had.
My lips were so close, I could feel his breath fan my skin and his hand pushing me away. His. Hand. Pushing. Me. Away. I pulled back, trying to shake some of the clouds that were fogging my brain so I could process this clearly. He held up a finger to me. Signaling one minute. Then got up and walked to the other side of the desk, putting space between us.
“Hello?” His deep voice filled the air. “Is this Ruben? This is Royal Russo. I’ had a contender drop out tonight, do you want in?”
CHAPTER 20
ROYAL
The worst timing of phone calls seemed to always happen to me. The phone call that ruined the date with Bianca, not that it was really going well, to begin with. The phone answering that halted her lips from touching mine. And the call shortly after that from Bianca’s father, asking for another loan. Another loan? Because the first loan he took hadn’t taught him a lesson at all?
I didn’t bother to mention it to her, at least at the moment, but I knew at some point she needed to know. I’d give Frank the money; I would give him all the money I had if she asked, but the decision was all hers. Did she want me to support her father’s habits or prohibit them?
She was asleep when I finally made it home, but she was a trooper and stayed up throughout the fights, watching behind plexiglass slightly above the arena. It was after the excitement wore off that she crashed, hard. One minute she was talking to me, the next minute, she was curled into a ball in a chair, her long hair over her shoulder partially covering her face as she slept.
I let her sleep as I finished working, then when three A.M. rolled around, I scooped her up and carried her to the Hummer, ready to take her home. She hadn’t even batted an eye until we pulled up to our house. “We’re home?”
Her voice was groggy and so fucking sexy I wanted to lean over and kiss her sleep away. “We just arrived. Want me to carry you in?”
I would have done it. I would have done anything she asked me to do, always, but my wife was stubborn and so fucking independent, she refused. I liked that about her as much as I loathed it because I really wanted to prove I could be her knight, but it was nearly impossible when she was always battle-ready.
I watched as she got out of the vehicle, almost stumbling on her wobbly legs before catching herself and trotting up the stone steps to the front door. I followed closely behind her, my keys out ready to open the door. With the door open, her heels were instantly shed the moment she passed the threshold, and I picked them up before she got the chance and carried them for her as we went straight to our room.
In our short relationship, I’d never been at this point with her. I usually joined her in bed a few hours after she’d been there, and I got up earlier than she did, but after watching her stumbling out of her jeans, remove her blouse, and stand in front of me as she brushed her teeth wearing only a camisole and her panties, I’d officially made it a point to schedule a bedtime earlier at least twice a week.
She didn’t say much to me, obviously too tired to function past the necessities needed before falling into bed, but when she fell into bed with her rabbit in her arms, and I fell in right after her, I couldn’t help the satisfaction that flooded through my body when her arm reached out and rested on my chest. It wasn’t exactly intimate, but . . . it was a start.
I left early the next morning, knowing that I had a lot of preparations to assist with for Paul’s funeral. But I also needed space. Not because I didn’t like being around Bianca and her annoying little furball, but because I wasn’t a hundred percent sure how I was supposed to a
ct when there was more than just myself to worry about.
Assisting in the fine details of Paul’s funeral took a lot out of me. He wasn’t just an employee, he was a good friend, and although most people just assumed I didn’t feel much in many situations, their assumptions would be wrong, I felt too much, too hard.
Like she knew my soul was weighed down, my phone dinged.
You left early.
I smiled down at the message like a love-sick schoolboy.
You miss me?
I knew she would deny it, but I waited anyway, anticipating some sort of snarking response.
Actually, sort of.
My heart jolted at her confession.
Really?
I watched the three dots dance on my screen as I waited for her reply.
Yes, I can’t remember where you put my heels last night, and if you were here, it would have saved me a lot of time searching.
There it was, my snarky girl.
The trunk by the window.
There was a knock at the door, and Troy strolled in, his face red and his body strung with anger. He plopped down in the chair right in front of me, silently steeping his fingers. I stared, waiting for him to offer me his problems like he had so many times before. When he didn’t say a word, I audibly groaned. “What’s wrong?”
He looked up at me like he forgot I was there when he was the one who walked into my office. “Nothing.”
Yeah. I was sure it was nothing. “Troy.”
My tone had an underlying warning to it, one he knew not to push. It wasn’t often I used that tone with him, but fuck, I was an hour away from burying a friend, and I didn’t want to be dealing with additional issues. “I have to bring Genie.”
My brows scrunched together. “To a funeral? Why?”
“Her Manny quit.” He sighed, then flopped his head back against the chair.
Resisting Royal (The Repayment Series) Page 10