Resisting Royal (The Repayment Series)

by Delilah Mohan

  “That’s what you get for hiring a man to do a woman’s job,” I pointed out.

  His eyes narrowed. “Don’t let your wife hear you say that.”

  I chuckled. “She would have my balls in a jar.”

  He nodded his agreement. “I thought I would give the guy a shot. It’s not like all the other nannies were lasting.”

  I leaned back in my own chair. “Why is that?”

  Guilt clouded his face. “I’m not exactly sure.”

  Not exactly sure, my fucking ass. Troy knew exactly why his nannies kept quitting, but if he didn’t want to tell me, I wasn’t going to push it. It was not my problem, it was his. “Well, did you ask Bianca to babysit?”

  It seemed like an easy solution, at least for the afternoon. It was a Saturday, so Bianca wasn’t working, and then he didn’t have to drag his girl to an open casket service and scar her for life. He shook his head. “Do you think she will?”

  I wasn’t actually sure, but I pulled out my phone to find out.

  Can you babysit for a few hours? Single kid, super sweet. Don’t really want her at the funeral.

  “Where’s Genie right now?” I asked while waiting for a response.

  “Coloring on Veronica’s desk. She said something about making Uncle Royal a picture.”

  My heart melted and broke at the same time. She was dealt a rough hand with a shitty mother, and Troy was doing his best to give her a good life, but sometimes the best someone can do just isn’t enough. My phone buzzed, and I glanced down.

  Sure, I was about to make some cookies anyway.

  I glanced up at Troy. “Drop her off with Bianca, she’s making cookies.”

  Troy’s face lit up the same way my insides gleamed because if there was one single way to win a man over, it was with warm baked cookies.

  CHAPTER 21

  BIANCA

  I told myself that baking cookies was not to win over my husband, who I didn’t necessarily like, but might have a tiny, itty bit of a crush on. LUST. Not a crush, I felt a bit of desire toward my husband and even though I in no way wanted to impress him, I found that being cordial toward him couldn’t harm our relationship at all.

  I had just pulled a tray out of the oven when I heard the front door open, followed by two very manly sets of footsteps and one very dainty pair. Shit. I wasn’t ready for this. I’d had literally no experience with kids, but I knew enough to realize a funeral was no place for a child.

  I saw the head full of bouncing light brown hair flash through the doorway moments before the tiny girl stopped in front of me. She held out her small hand. “Hi. My name is Genevieve, but you can call me Genie.”

  I bent over, taking her hand in mine. “Nice to meet you, I’m Bianca.”

  She pushed back the hair from her face. “I like your eyes.” She turned to Troy and Royal. “When I’m a woman, do you think I could have green eyes too?”

  Troy coughed. “I don’t want to think about you ever growing past seven.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Growing is a fact of life; you can’t change that.”

  Royal nodded and knelt down. “This is true, but I think what your dad is saying is that he wants you young forever.” My eyes bulged at the knowledge that this little girl belonged to Troy. “Now, will you promise to be good for Aunt Bianca while we are gone?”

  Genie nodded, her hair bouncing dramatically. “I promise.”

  “Good girl.” He patted her head. “If you’re really, really good, I might even bring you a surprise tonight.”

  Her eyes got as big as saucers. “I’ll be the best I’ve ever been in my whole entire life. I promise.”

  “I believe it.” He stood up and wrapped an arm around my waist. He leaned into my ear and muttered, “And if you’re a really, really good girl, you get a surprise too.”

  “I’ll make sure she’s on her best behavior, too,” Genie chimed in, and Royal chuckled against my hair.

  Troy snorted. “I have a feeling she would get rewarded either way.”

  Genie's eyebrows scrunched. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

  “I’ll behave,” I confirmed at the same time Royal whispered, “I like to be unfair.”

  Oh, how I knew this to be true. Instead of encouraging him, I used my palm and pushed at his chest, putting space between us. Royal got the hint and stepped back, his eyes shining with mischief. He reached behind me, grabbed a cookie, and took a giant bite. He moaned around the cookie, the sound doing something to my insides. Why? Why must by body lust after him so bad when my mind is urging me to resist?

  “These are amazing, do you bake a lot?” He grabbed another, ignoring the smear of chocolate on the corner of his mouth as he took another bite.

  “Not too often.” But I wish I did. I loved baking cookies and treats, but when you lived alone, what was the point? To consume them all in one sitting and feel the bloating as a side effect? Don’t even get me started on the added pounds that will stay with you for weeks after.

  He walked to the fridge and took out the milk, carrying over a few glasses. “I would marry you again, just for these cookies.”

  He poured milk in the glasses, then grabbed a plate to put cookies on and carried it to the table, making a second trip for the glasses of milk. Genie followed behind him and climbed in a chair, reaching for one of the cookies. She took a bite, moaning. “Aunt Bianca, Uncle Royal should marry you again for these cookies.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at her cuteness. “Once was enough for me, Honey.”

  “But, if you married him twice, wouldn’t that mean we get double cookies?” The look on her face was so pensive as she thought about the prospect.

  Troy sat next to his daughter. “I’m willing to bet she will bake cookies every day just to have nothing to do with your uncle.”

  She turned to him, the concern displayed clearly on her face. “That’s not a nice thing to say. He loves her, and when you say things like that, he will get his feelings hurt.”

  He held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, Princess, it was a joke. Obviously, Uncle Royal adores Bianca.”

  She nodded her agreement even though a girl her age couldn’t possibly comprehend. When she was completely satisfied with her father’s apology, she turned back to the plate of cookies, grabbing another one and handing one to Troy.

  They sat at the table for another ten minutes before it was time for Royal and Troy to leave. When the men stood to go, I also stood and followed them to the door. Royal, true to his word the night before, did not make a move to kiss me, and I was both relieved and annoyed by that. Sure, I wanted him to keep his distance and not push more of a relationship on me, but also . . . his lips always felt so good against my skin, especially when his want and need for me pulsed behind their simple touches.

  “Take good care of your niece. We shouldn’t be more than a few hours.” He shut the door after that, and I stood looking at the wood.

  Niece? I never really had much of a family besides my father, but a niece? I felt a sudden burst of panic. What would I do with her? How should I treat her? Relax, I chided myself. She’s just a kid, just spoil her like aunts are supposed to do. So, as I walked to the kitchen, I resolved that spoiling the sweet little girl was exactly what I was going to do.

  By the time Troy and Royal returned home Genie, and I had gotten manicures, hit the toy store, gone grocery shopping, and had artfully constructed her favorite meal, tacos. I had to admit, having a little lady around who enjoyed the indulgences of tacos was like having a new-found best friend. Sure, Natalie and I went out, but it was a rare occasion when I could get her to break her diet and have anything other than a bowl of lettuce or a protein shake.

  When our boys walked in, Genie was standing on a chair, a tiny knife in hand as she sliced through green onions. Her dad’s eyes widened. “What are you doing, Genie baby?! You will cut yourself.”

  She turned to Troy, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Relax, dad, these aren’t even real.”


  “They sure as fuck look real! I just saw you slice through the onion!” he pointed out as he walked toward her.

  Genie cleared her throat. “Language. You are in the presence of ladies, after all.” I heard both men snort. “These are specially designed children knives, made of heavy-duty plastic and serrated edges, designed specifically for the aspiring chef in mind.”

  I could see Royal was fighting not to laugh and I wasn’t too far behind him. “Princess, are you sure he’s your father? You’re too classy to be a part of our crew.”

  I saw a look cross Troy’s face before he quickly dismissed Royal’s words. “He’s just jealous because he knows you had to be taught your class somehow.”

  She scooped up the onions and placed them in a bowl before hopping off her chair and adding them to the line of stuff already chopped on the bar. Then she instructed the men to wash their hands before she set the table with plates and water glasses. I was too busy watching Genie work that I nearly jumped when a wet hand snaked under my shirt and rested on my bare stomach.

  “I seem to have misplaced the towels,” Royal rumbled into my neck.

  I tried not to lean into him. “Use your pant legs.”

  “That seems counterproductive, now doesn’t it? Cleaning my hands just to dirty them on my pants.” I swore I heard him inhale against my skin. “You girls have fun today?”

  “We did. We got our nails done, toy and knife shopped, and hit the grocery store for dinner supplies,” I explained, trying to ignore the heat of his body against my own.

  He hummed his approval. “I see, nice nails, by the way.”

  I looked down at the deep purple that coated my fingertips, the color one might classify as a royal color scheme, then cursed. Damn it. He was always in my head even when I didn’t realize it. “Genie picked it out.”

  I lied, but judging by the sound he made in his throat, I suspected he knew that. He didn’t call me out on it, though. Instead, he ignored my unwillingness to admit that I thought about him non-stop and asked, “Genie pick dinner, too?”

  I looked down at the big pan overflowing with ground beef. “She insisted.”

  “She has good taste.” I felt his nose graze my neck lightly as he moved down the column, but his lips refused to touch me. “I like tacos.”

  “Who doesn’t?” I tried to keep my breathing level because damn it, if he knew he was affecting me, he’d already won at the game he’d created.

  He inhaled one more time before pushing away from my body. “We have to talk later.”

  I looked over my shoulder, searching out his face, trying to gauge the type of conversation we’d have, but his expressions gave nothing away. “Good or bad?” I finally asked when I couldn’t decode his look.

  “Meh, it’s neither good nor bad, it’s just a talk.” He walked away, heading toward the table to sit with the others, and even though he said the proposed conversation was neutral, I suddenly had butterflies invading my stomach because if there was one thing I’d learned, a discussion with Royal never ended neutrally.

  CHAPTER 22

  ROYAL

  After Troy and Genie left, I decided to take the evening off. Well, sort off. There was plenty of work I could do from my home office and still be in the presence of Bianca, even if she was a whole room or two away. The funeral was harder than I anticipated, but I didn’t know why I hadn’t expected it. Paul was a good friend, and as I aged, the rapid decline of my friends and acquaintances seemed inevitable.

  It was almost nine o’clock when I left my office to go in search of my woman. My mother had long since been in bed, and as far as I knew, Bianca hadn’t left the living room. I found her snuggled under a giant blanket on the couch, the room completely dark aside from the television flashing in front of her.

  I approached quietly, not sure if she was awake or asleep. If she was, in fact, asleep like I suspected, I would turn off the television and save our talk about her father until tomorrow. I entered the room, my socked feet making the barest of sounds against the hard floor. Shit, she was cute, wrapped up like she was living through a blizzard under the biggest blanket I’d ever seen. She had to have brought it with her from her house because there was no way it was here before then.

  “I can hear you breathing like a creepy stalker, you know,” I heard her mumble, half asleep.

  I grinned even though I know she couldn’t see it. “Do I look like the stalking type?”

  “No. You are the take-whatever-I-want-when-I-want-other-people’s-opinions-be-damned type.”

  I bit my lip to keep from laughing as I found the spot next to her on the couch. I reached out, grabbing her feet and pulling them out of the blanket onto my lap so I could rub her calves as I talked. “I think you secretly like my domineering ways.”

  “I like dominants sometimes, but I’m not too fond of cavemen.” She finally turned and looked at me.

  My head fell dramatically to the back of the couch, then I rolled my head to look in her direction. “I’m hardly a caveman.”

  “Think what you will, Russo, but I’ll happily give you a list of qualities and actions that you have that are very much of the caveman variety.”

  She moaned when my hands found a potentially sore spot on her leg. “Would a caveman give you a calf and foot massage?”

  I held up my hands, stopping my ministrations. “Don’t you dare stop.”

  “We need to talk, is now a good time?” I finally asked her, not wanting for my mind to get more sidetracked than it already was when it came to her. She mumbled her agreement as her head rested against the arm of the couch, her eyes closed. “Okay, so first things first. Your house.”

  Her head popped up. “What about it?”

  “Nothing really. All the repairs and updates are complete. You have two options, to sell it, the market is amazing right now. Or rent it, in which case I can have a rental agency on it by tomorrow midday.”

  She looked thoughtful. “But, no chance I can move into it again?”

  My hand moved past her knee and up her inner thigh. Her breath caught as I said, “Not a chance. Ever.”

  She blew out a breath as she licked her lips. “I like your shower better anyway. I love my house, so I guess for now, until I can bear to part with it or you grant me a divorce, I’ll rent it.”

  The mention of divorce had me tightening my grip as my hand approached her upper thigh. “Done. Next thing I want to talk about is your father.”

  Her body stiffened at this, and she pulled away from my touch. She sat up, her hair a crazy mess around her, her face illuminated by the flash of the television screen. “What’s wrong with my father?”

  I cleared my throat. “Nothing. I have the leasing agent at the apartment complex check in on him, and she said he looks well and seems to be doing wonderfully.”

  Her brows scrunched together, her concern despite my reassurance still present. “Then why do we need to talk about him? Is he having trouble with rent? I will pay it for him. Once I rent my house out, I’m sure the extra income will be more than enough to cover it.”

  I patted the leg I still held. “No. I’ll cover his living expenses and yours. Whatever money you get is yours to spend or yours to save.” She gave me a couple of good dramatic blinks, and I ignored her and continued on. “I got a call the other night from Frank. He wanted to take out another loan.”

  Her body pulled back in what could only be described as a mix of shock and anger. “He what?”

  “Wanted another loan,” I repeated, then hurriedly added, “I didn’t give it to him, of course, not yet anyway.”

  “But?” she prompted.

  “There is no but. If and when I give your father any sort of loan, it will be completely up to you. I’ll give anything you want, when you want, but not before you give me the go-ahead.”

  There was that confused blinking again. “You are giving me a say?”

  “He’s your father, Bianca. Of course, you have a say.” I felt like rolling
my eyes at her.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, looking at me so seriously that it only added to her adorable factor. “How much does he want a loan for?”

  This is where it got tricky. It wasn’t like he wanted a hundred bucks to get him by until the next payday. “A hundred and ten.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “Dollars? A hundred and ten dollars?”

  Man, my throat felt dry. “Thousand dollars.”

  She made a choking sound as her head began to shake. “Are you kidding me, what did he even need that for? Do you even have that type of money?”

  I think she knew the answer but didn’t know what to else to say. “I do. I think your father is gambling again, Amore. I will support his habits if you wish, but the decision is solely yours.”

  She looked at me in disbelief. “You’re joking, right? Absolutely not! There is no way I’m letting you support his habits. He can find other revenue to gamble away.”

  She didn’t realize it wasn’t that simple. “If your father is asking for the loan, he probably already owes this amount.”

  She shook her head again. “I don’t care; he can’t take advantage of you like that.”

  “Just say the word, and I’ll have the transfer ready.” I wanted her to know that I would do it, I would do anything she asked, any time she asked.

  “No. There is no way. I appreciate you asking me first, and I’m glad you did, but I can’t let him take advantage of you this way, or me. It’s not like he can sell me off . . . again. No. He will have to figure out a way on his own.”

  My stomach tightened at the thought of him selling her when she was already mine. Even when she fought me and denied it, every piece of her would one day be in my hands. It was just a matter of time, and I was not willing to sacrifice what we had.

  “If you change your mind, don’t hesitate to ask me, Amore. Never hesitate to come to me.”

  She dismissed my words, but I hoped when the time came, if it ever came, she remembered them. Then, she leaned back down on the couch, her attention going to the show that was playing even though I knew her mind was no longer into it. We stayed like that for another hour, then when her eyes started to glaze over, and her yawns wouldn’t relent, I turned off the television myself before forcing her off the couch to go upstairs.