by Sarah Curtis
This Thing of Ours
Sarah Curtis
Copyright © 2018 by Jeanine Grasso. All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this publication may be replicated, redistributed, or given away in any form without the prior written consent of the author/publisher. This is a work of fiction. The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to any real persons alive or dead and events are coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover Design, Redbird Designs @ www.redbird-designs.net/
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Dedication
Books by Sarah Curtis
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
Marco’s Proposal Poem
Bad Beat Chapter One
Author’s Note
How to find me
Dedication
This one is for my son who I just found out is getting married. Here’s to his HEA.
And, as always, to my hubby for giving me my HEA.
Books by Sarah Curtis
Alluring Series
Alluring
Engaging
Pursuing
Enchanting (An Alluring Novella)
The Gamblers Series
All-In
Bad Beat
Full House
This Thing of Ours (A Gambler Series Spin-off Novel)
Other books by Sarah Curtis
Freight Trained
Seven Year Itch (A KW Novella)
Find all my books HERE
Chapter One
“I didn’t come here to get a lecture, I came to visit my niece.” Gabby peered across the expanse of her brother’s desk, eyeballing Nico. She even pursed her lips for good measure.
Neither seemed to influence Nico, as he continued, “You also came alone. No driver. No bodyguard. Do you know how dangerous that is?” He sat back in his chair, looking cool as a cucumber, but Gabby knew it was a façade. His eyes told the real story. Her brother was pissed.
But could a girl really be blamed when her detail was so easily evaded? Okay, to be fair, she’d had years of practice ditching her bodyguards but, come on, it was like they weren’t even trying. Definitely not her fault.
Throwing him a placating expression, she soothed, “I came straight from my house to yours. Really, you and Dad make way too much of it.”
Nico sat up in his chair. Leaning slightly forward, he placed his forearms on his desk, clasping his hands. She watched him entwine his fingers before her eyes turned to Marco, standing to the left of Nico’s chair, expressionless, as usual. His eyes were focused on her—hard chunks of black onyx, probing her and missing nothing.
She looked away but still felt his scrutiny and fidgeted in her seat as the air suddenly became thinner. As if his look alone were sucking all the oxygen from the room.
Did she mention she had a crush on Marco? Maybe crush was too juvenile a term, since she’d hit her twenties two years ago. Should she say lusted after, instead? Whatever she should call it, it made her feel very womanly. In fact, all her woman bits took notice whenever Marco shared space with her. For ten long years, she’d had to endure her puppy-love, turned crush, turned lust. Not that he’d ever noticed—and thank God for that. How embarrassing would that have been.
She squirmed again, still sensing his stare, but she didn’t dare take a second peek. Not that she needed to. She knew when she had his attention. Call it a sixth sense—a Marco sense—but after so many years, she was that attuned. And for a man who showed not a single emotion, that was saying something.
She also didn’t need a second glance to know he stood rigidly, with his hands clasped behind his back, the cotton of his white dress shirt pulled taut across his chest. He was a big guy, evidenced by the bulging muscles that could be seen through the fabric. Black slacks encased powerful legs she’d had the good fortune to witness on two separate occasions.
Once, when she’d been sixteen, and her Aunt Teresa had drunkenly tripped against the buffet table at her parents’ annual Christmas party. She’d knocked over the punch bowl, and Marco had been the unlucky recipient of its spilled contents. Gabby had rushed from the room to get some towels, and as she’d walked back down the hall, she’d seen him in a spare bedroom.
The door had been left ajar, and with his back to the opening, he hadn’t known she’d watched, transfixed, as he’d stepped from his pants. She’d never seen his bare legs before—had never seen him out of a suit even in the summer heat. His powerful muscles had bunched and flexed under olive skin coated with dark, thick hairs.
He’d bent at the waist to slip on clean slacks, thrusting out his perfectly rounded backside, pulling taut the thin, white cotton that covered it. Cotton so thin, she’d been able to make out the dark shadow of his crack.
As if sensing her, he’d stood upright and turned, locking eyes with her. Hers had gone wide, and she’d found it difficult to swallow. As he’d stalked toward her, she stood her ground, not out of bravery but from a complete loss of brain function, hindering her ability to move her feet.
He’d drawn close, and she’d watched—heart pounding in her chest—as his arm had raised. His hand had reached up and out, and in that split second in time, her brain had worked overtime. She’d been convinced he’d been reaching out to touch her. But his hand hadn’t come to rest on her cheek for a soft caress as she’d envisioned. No, it had landed with a slap on the hard wood, slamming the door in her face with a loud thunk.
Mortified, she’d dropped the towels on the floor and had scurried to her room, refusing to come out until she’d been sure he was gone from the house.
And the second time? On her eighteenth birthday. That time had been so mortifying, she refused to think about it.
She was pulled back to the conversation by Nico’s firm tone. “I know you’re not stupid, Gabriella, so you can’t possibly believe that.”
What had they been talking about? Oh, yeah, Nico wanting to curb her freedom.
“You know of the dangers that lurk around every corner. We haven’t shielded you from them.”
He was so damn calm, it was easy for her to forget he was one of those dangers. Well, men like him. Men like her father. And even Marco. She blew out a heavy sigh, ruffling the straight line of wispy bangs that fell across her forehead.
Nico continued. “Things are happening—”
“What things?” she interrupted.
Nico held her gaze. “Bad things. It’s not safe for you to go out alone. Promise me you won’t.”
Gabby swallowed and, for a brief moment, wondered if it were a ploy. Nico’s way of scaring her into complying with his wishes. From the corner of her eye, she saw Marco move. His hand came into her field of visio
n as it landed on the top of Nico’s chair, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the soft leather. Nico’s face was as serious as she’d ever seen it. His features were tense, and little lines had formed at the corners of his eyes.
Not a ploy, then.
She nodded. “I promise.”
He nodded curtly in return. “Good. Now go. Visit with Olivia and Angelica. When you’re done, Marco will take you home.”
Knowing she’d been dismissed, Gabby stood from her seat. Her eyes flicked once more over Nico’s shoulder to Marco. His eyes were still on her. She stared for maybe a few seconds longer than she should then turned her back to the room and headed out the door.
“Gabby! I wasn’t expecting you.”
Her sister-in-law, Olivia, sat on the floor of the nursery. A six-month-old Angelica sat between her sprawled legs, munching aggressively on a wooden block. Candy and Cain, their one-year-old German shepherds, poked their heads up from their slumber on either side of the crib upon her arrival.
“I wanted to surprise you.” Gabby held her arms out wide. “Surprise!”
Angelica squealed in delight, throwing out her chubby arms, mimicking her. The block she held flew from her hand, sailing past Cain’s head to land on the floor by his rump where he stared at it, seemingly unfazed.
Gabby stepped forward, laughing. “Come here, you little monster.” Scooping up a giggling Angelica, Gabby did a full spin before throwing her on her hip. “And how is my favorite niece today?”
“She’s your only niece.” Olivia ran her fingers through her long, brown hair, brushing it back from her face.
“Well, it’s a good thing she’s my favorite then because otherwise, that would just be sad.”
Olivia stood from the floor with a groan then rubbed her back. “Now I know why chairs were invented.”
Angelica grabbed a lock of Gabby’s hair and pulled. “Ow! Like father like daughter, huh? When I was little, your daddy use to pull my hair, too.”
“Speaking of Nico,” Olivia said. “Does he know you’re here?”
Gabby grimaced. “I just came from a ten-minute lecture.”
Oliva gave her a knowingly sympathetic look. “He worries about you.”
Gabby sighed. “I know.”
Olivia hooked her arm through Gabby’s free one. “Come on, let’s go raid the freezer. There’s a carton of chocolate chip with both our names on it.”
Gabby gave her sister-in-law’s arm a squeeze. “Ice cream therapy?”
Olivia laughed. “The cheapest kind.”
Gabby dropped her spoon in the nearly empty bowl with a clatter and pushed it away from her. “I can’t eat another bite.”
“Then you’re ready to leave.” Marco’s voice boomed behind her, and she flinched, startled.
Olivia raised a brow in silent question, and Gabby returned a small shrug in answer before twisting in her chair. Marco stood by the door, arms folded across his chest, a scowl on his face.
“Don’t let me put you out.”
His scowl deepened at her sarcastic tone. “You’re not putting me out.”
Yeah, right, she thought, barely keeping an eye roll in check. Even if the thought of being alone in a car with Marco did make her heart flutter, she didn’t want to be somebody’s chore. And that’s exactly how Marco would see her—an errand Nico had foisted on him.
“Look, I’m quite capable of driving myself home in my own car that happens to currently be parked in the driveway. Nico wouldn’t even have to know.” She glanced at Olivia with an apologetic twist of her lips. Gabby knew she hated keeping secrets from her husband.
Olivia held up a hand. “I’m pretending to not hear this conversation.”
It didn’t matter because Marco wasn’t listening to her anyway. “I’ll have one of the men deliver it to your house. Let’s go.”
She stood, knowing there was no use arguing. “Give me kisses.” She leaned over smacking Angelica on the lips. Gabby laughed, running a hand across her mouth. “Yummy, drool.”
Olivia joined in the laughter. “Believe me, it could be worse. Try kissing her after she’s eaten squash or sweet potatoes.”
She gave the mother and daughter pair one last wave then made her way out of the kitchen, resigned to spending some alone time in the car with Marco.
Yes, resigned. The only other time Marco had driven her anywhere had been about three years ago, and his complete silence had made the experience awkwardly uncomfortable. Want information from an enemy? Put him in a car with Marco and have them drive around aimlessly. He’d be talking in no time.
The drive from Nico’s house to her own usually took about fifteen minutes if she hit every red light along the way.
About five minutes into their trip, Marco asked, “How’s school going this year?”
Gabby whipped her head Marco’s direction. Her mouth fell open, but for the life of her, she couldn’t get any words out.
He glanced her direction, a frown marring his brow. “What?”
“I, um…” What could she say? Not, that he’d freaked her out by starting a conversation with her. That would be rude. “Um, nothing.” His lips compressed, and she hastily continued, “School’s good. I only have one more semester after winter break until I graduate.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything. Then, just when she thought their titillating conversation was at an end, he asked, “You have plans for break?”
Why was he asking? He’d never been interested in anything about her life before. “Um, no… Not really. I mean, not other than the usual Christmas stuff.”
He nodded again. Gabby waited and waited, but this time he remained silent. And before she could think of anything else to add to their first ever one-on-one conversation, he was driving through the gates of her parents’ property, veering right, off the main driveway, and pulling up in front of the guesthouse.
She unbuckled her seat belt, opened her door, and stuck one foot out before twisting Marco’s direction. “Thanks.” Even though she hadn’t wanted to be driven home, manners dictated she thank him for doing so. After all, she was sure he hadn’t wanted to drive her any more than she’d wanted to be driven.
He nodded and grunted some noise of acknowledgment, and she took that as her cue to leave. Getting out of the car, she slammed the door. Then, having no willpower, watched as he drove around the horseshoe driveway back toward the exit. She even still watched as he pulled out of the gate. In fact, she didn’t look away until she lost his car from view.
And the crazy thing was, unbeknownst to Gabby, Marco had watched her through the rearview mirror the whole time, too.
Chapter Two
“Whoa. I don’t think so, buddy.” Gabby slammed the back-passenger door, looking over the top of the car at Ricky. Her bodyguard-slash-driver looked like a character from Men in Black. Black suit. White shirt. Black tie. He even had on the same kind of sunglasses Tommy Lee wore, with lenses so dark, it was impossible to see his eyes to read their expression.
“I’m walking you to class.”
His tone held a note of finality. Gabby hated it. He was but one of her two bodyguards. Leo wasn’t much better, but he was older and tried to be more tolerant and patient.
“You don’t need to walk me. You can see the door to the building from here, and I’m going straight to class.” No, she wasn’t acting childish. Already a social outcast, unable to have any close friends, it was bad enough having a guard and a driver. The last thing she wanted was for her classmates to see the “royal” treatment.
Ricky’s lips compressed as he slammed his door. “Orders from the boss, I’m not to let you out of my sight.”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re not thinking of sitting in on my class?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll wait outside the room.”
She reminded herself that after winter break, she had only one more semester until she graduated. That calmed her. Somewhat. “Look, I already promised Nico I wouldn’t do anything fo
olish, but I’ll make you that same promise. I’m going straight to class, and when it’s over, I’ll come right back to the car.”
He turned his head toward the language and arts building. It was across a small quad, but the door was in plain sight. She saw his jaw tick, and she could only imagine what was going through his head.
He must have reached a decision because he turned back to her and gave her a tight nod. “If you’re not back in an hour, I will come looking for you. Don’t make me regret this.”
Gabby hiked the strap of her messenger bag higher on her shoulder. “I won’t.”
She felt his eyes on her the whole walk to the door and only when she was safely behind it did she release a breath of relief. Her guards made her feel claustrophobic. She should be used to them as they’ve been around for as long as she could remember. The teen years had been especially grueling, always cramping her style and making it hard to keep friends. Not that her situation was conducive to close friendships. As the daughter of a mob boss, her life was very private outside The Family, so it sucked she’d never even had a sibling close in age to hang out with. After Nico, her mother had been told she couldn’t have any more children. Gabby had been a big surprise, ten years later. Thank God for cousins. She had plenty of them. Unfortunately, they only came around during big holidays.
She took her usual seat at the back of the class. The professor hadn’t arrived yet, and people stood or sat in groups, chatting. She pulled her laptop out of her bag and hit the on button just as a body plopped into the seat beside hers.
Blond-haired and blue-eyed with a cute dimple that appeared when he smiled—as he was then—and a body that had girls following in his wake like the Pied Piper, Derek should have made her heart pitter-patter, her eyelashes flutter, and her breath quicken. But he didn’t. And not for his lack of trying.
They’d first met at the start of class six weeks prior, and since then, he’d been relentless. She should give in and agree to the date he’d been asking her for, but she couldn’t. No, couldn’t was the wrong word and implied she physically wasn’t able to. She should say wouldn’t—as in, she didn’t want to. He was all wrong. Too blond. Too blue-eyed. Too damn happy. Her heart beat to a different tune. One with dark hair and eyes and a surly disposition.