Ding. Another message.
Mae94: I was fucking terrified when you didn’t write back last!!!!! Wait... this is Bianca, isn’t it? Please God, don’t tell me it’s the cops logged on your computer to tell me that you’re dead….
A part of me is worried about telling her anything. But I’m dying to talk to someone. Anyone. I don’t know what to think anymore.
My fingers fly across the keys as I respond.
Bee95: Yes it’s me! Stop worrying Mae, I’m alive!
For now.
Ding.
Mae94: Thank fuck! I was so worried that you were killed when I couldn’t find any sign of you or didn’t hear from you! My dad had me freaking out when he saw what happened to the shop. Where are you!? Is everything alright? Are you okay!?
My fingers freeze over the keys. This is what I’ve been dreading. Having to lie to her. I’m so tired of lying and I just don’t want to, but I’m not stupid. I can’t tell her where I am. I can’t trust her. It’s a sad fact, pathetic even; the one friend I have, I can’t confide in fully. I slowly type out my response.
Bee95: I’m okay. Shaken up, but okay…. I’ve just been hiding out after what happened.
Ding.
Mae94: God, I can imagine! That’s all I’ve been thinking about since finding out those bastards shot up the wine shop!! How terrified you must’ve been… Hiding out where?
I chew my lower lip, thinking. Finally, I decide I’ll just tell her who I’m with, but not where I’m at. She didn’t go to school with us, but she knows who they are.
Bee95: I’m with Damon and Maddox.
Mae94: What the hell!? Damon Asher and Maddox Silver?
Bee95: Yeah.
Heat rises to my cheeks and I’m reminded of that ache between my legs. Suddenly I’m embarrassed and even… ashamed. I need advice. Badly. God I wish I could tell her everything.
Mae94: What in the world are you doing with them? Fuck, never mind that, tell me where you are! Me and Dad will come to you right now.
Before I can answer, I hear the sound of creaking wood and I jump with surprise. I’m on edge with the memory of the gun fire at the wine shop and I slam the laptop shut with my hand over my racing heart.
“What are you doing?” asks Damon’s deep, sexy voice.
His boxers are slung low with his washboard abs on display. His eyebrows raise as he leans against the doorjamb.
“Did I interrupt something?” he asks.
“You scared me,” I answer honestly and then look back to my email. I should really talk to Mary, but I can’t tell her anything anyway. I push the hair out of my face and let out a frustrated breath. At least she knows I’m alive.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Damon walks into the room and I turn in the chair to lean against him as he wraps an arm around my shoulder.
“It’s okay,” I whisper against his hard, bare chest, taking in his masculine scent and instantly calming. He rubs my back in soothing circles. God I need this. I need him.
“Those are a little fancy for a safe house.” Damon changes the subject after a long moment passes and I nearly fall asleep against him. .
The pearls sparkle in the moonlight, the intricate design of the setting holding the pearls spreading warmth throughout my chest. I love these earrings. They've helped comfort me so much after my mother’s death. “They were my mother’s,” I say softly, trying to hide the sudden pain I feel.
A look of sympathy crosses Damon’s face and as he sits down on the bed, it dips slightly and groans with his weight. “Tell me about it?” he asks, although it sounds more like a command.
I hesitate to answer. I don’t talk about my mother.
Damon doesn’t give up. “I want to know more about you, honey bee.” His voice is insistent, almost pleading.
A slight blush comes to my cheeks as I slowly get up from my chair and come over to sit down beside him.
The heat from his hard body is making it difficult to breathe, but I concentrate on my mother’s earrings, rubbing my fingers across the ornate design. “They were a gift from my father to my mother,” I begin. “They were her favorite. She’d wear them everywhere, even just to go to the grocery store.” I sniff. “I don’t think there was ever a time I saw her without them.” My eyes grow distant as I think about my mother’s smiling face, feeling that familiar pang of loss stab at my heart. “They were on her dresser… I found them there after...”
Damon’s beautiful eyes are sympathetic as he sees the pain in my face and gently places his hand on my knee. “Damn. I’m sorry.”
I nod my head, feeling a pool of tears trying to form in my eyes, biting my lower lip to keep them at bay. My voice cracks as I add, “I don’t know why it still hurts.”
I clutch the earrings tightly in my hands as those tears threaten to spill from my eyes. Fuck, I feel stupid. Crying over something that happened so many years ago.
I should just leave the story here, and not say any more, but I can’t help myself. I’ve opened up the floodgates, and now it’s just pouring out.
“Like a month before she died, we got into a horrible argument. I don’t even remember what it was about. I just remember screaming at her from the top of the stairs.” My hands were balled into fists, and I remember how much it hurt my throat to yell at her. Her pearls shook as she screamed up at me, climbing the stairs and then slapping my face. “We didn’t speak to each other...” For almost a month. I mostly ignored her, only answering her with a simple yes or no, when she would ask questions, but I didn’t talk to her. I shake my head as I'm almost inundated with emotion. “I never even got the chance to tell her I was sorry.” The last words come out in a half-gasp, half-choke as the memory of the pain in her eyes when I refused to speak to her overwhelms me. I’ll never forgive myself.
Warm, strong arms pull me into a gentle embrace as Damon whispers calming words in my ears, holding me and rocking me. “Your mother loved you no matter what,” Damon says firmly over my sobs. “You hear me? One little argument wouldn’t have changed that.”
The conviction in his words almost immediately calms me and my tears trickle off. After a moment, I pull back from his arms and sniffle. My face is red with embarrassment as I wipe the tears from my face with the back of my hand. I don’t know what came over me.
I know what he’s saying is true, but I can’t help but feel the way I do. I’ve never been able to get over the perfect image of my mother, and how I hurt her before her death. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “I didn’t mean to break down like that.”Damon waves away my apology.
“Don’t be,” Damon says, his deep voice stronger now. “You have those earrings for a reason. Everything happens for a reason.”
“Do you really think so?” I ask. I don’t like that saying. Too much bad shit happens to people for no reason at all.
“Yeah.” Damon steps in close, his powerful arms wrapping around my waist. “Like being here with you. Right here. Right now.”
The heat from Damon’s body makes my temperature rise. Looking up into his eyes, I feel something there. A connection, a strong feeling that maybe this is meant to be like he says. That this has happened for a reason.
But if that’s true, why do I feel like it’s all going to backfire?
Chapter 15
Maddox
The kitchen’s my favorite room in this place. It’s the first place we fucked Bianca, and the center of the home. I smile as I lift the beer to my lips, staring at the table as I lean against the counter.
Damon’s finally grabbed a beer, too. Just one, to relax. I fucking need it. We have no clue who the snitch is, and neither does Vittoro. And that’s a big fucking problem.
I don’t like problems, but we haven’t got a single fucking lead.
“Give me some good news,” I tell Damon. He’s seated at the table, his feet propped up on the chair next to him as he taps away on the keys of his laptop.
He pauses to look up at me and finally shoves the
computer away, grabbing the bottle in its place. “I don’t have any.”
Fuck. My chest tightens with suppressed anger. I just wanna know who did it. Who sent the location of the Russo safe house to the Condottis?
“All I want is a name,” I tell Damon with a calm voice, but the emotions I’m feeling are anything but calm.
He looks at me with his lips pressed into a thin line, but doesn’t say a thing. It’s been over a week since they came for us. Days of Vittoro’s men gathering up Condotti’s men and torturing information out of them. The Russos are the stronger familia, so there’s no doubt in my mind that they’re picking away at the Condotti’s numbers.
But no one has given up the one thing I want. I just want a name.
“If Vittoro didn’t get it from them, we aren’t gonna get it.”
I crack my neck and stare straight ahead at the wall. I need someone to fuck up. Someone to set an example of what happens when you mess with our girl.
“I guess there’s some good news though,” Damon says, drawing my attention back to him.
“What’s that?” I ask, tapping the bottom of the bottle against the counter.
He smirks at me and points out, “A little more time with Bianca to ourselves.”
I wish I could return the ease he has when he talks about her. It’s as if the day he decided to take her, she was ours. Like it's as easy as that.
But there are two very real problems, and they're all I can think about anymore.
We’re fucking dead for touching her.
I don’t want to stop.
My gaze moves back to the white wall behind him and I don’t acknowledge what he said. I’m already feeling like a piece of shit with the way I’ve been thinking. I’ve been selfish. She doesn’t just want me. She wants us. And Damon obviously wants her. But I want more than just a fling. I want this to last, and that can’t happen with all three of us. I absently lift the beer to my lips, but I don’t take a drink.
My body stills at Damon’s words. “You really want her, don’t you?” I’m slow to set the bottle back down, my eyes on his. “You haven’t been the same with her,” he adds.
He hasn’t either. The tension hasn’t left us, even if he sits there with his feet up, looking relaxed. We’re threats to one another for the first time in our lives.
“You want her too,” I say and tilt my beer to him. He stares at me a long time and I bring the beer back up, taking my swig and finally looking away. The beer's almost gone and it’s the only one I’m letting myself have today, so I shove it a few inches aside.
“Of course I want her,” Damon says, narrowing his eyes and looking at me like he doesn’t know what I’m thinking. Like he doesn’t know the rules to this game have changed.
“You alright with me wanting her, too?” I ask him, trying to keep my voice casual.
“Of course,” he answers quickly.
“There just seems to be this tension.” I stare at him, willing him to tell me the truth, but he doesn’t return my gaze. He’s not ready to engage. Maybe he’s afraid for it to end, 'cause that’s exactly what’s going to happen when it comes down to it. This is going to end, and one of us… or neither of us is going to walk away with her.
“Just shouldn’t be messing around with a client, that’s all,” he looks away as he answers and it’s a dead ringer that he’s lying to me. I’ve known him all my life. I stare at the dark brown glass bottle and think about pushing the issue. But when it comes down to it, she’s the one that’ll get to choose.
I don’t want it to be him.
“Yeah, we shouldn’t be fucking her. She’s the mafia princess,” I lean forward, practically hissing. “He’s gonna fucking kill us when he finds out.”
“She won’t tell him,” Damon says, although his eyes fall and there’s no conviction in his voice. I barely shake my head.
“Bullshit. He’s gonna find out, and we’re gonna have a price on our heads because of that tempting piece of ass.” My body’s ringing with anxiety at the thought, but even facing the consequences, I wouldn’t change a damn thing.
“You’re saying you don’t want her?” Damon asks me, stirring the beer in his hand. It's one of his tells. It's something he does when he challenges someone. Those steady circles his hand makes usually lead to a punch, but for me it’s different.
He brings the beer to his lips and polishes it off, but he holds my gaze. He asks again, wiping the beer from his lips with the back of his hand and tosses the empty bottle in the trash a few feet away from him. “You telling me you don’t want our honey bee anymore?”
That’s not what I’m saying, and he knows it. She’s already different from the others. She’s not a quick lay, a one-night stand or a weekend romp. I grab the beer on the counter and twist the cool glass in my hand.
I finally answer him, ignoring the pain in my chest as I say, “Touching Bianca was fucking stupid.” I bring the beer to my lips, remembering how sweet her moans sounded as I pressed the pad of my thumb against her clit. I swallow, feeling the cool liquid chilling my heated chest. “And now there’s no going back.”
The sound of the front hall table nearly toppling over whips our attention to the open doorway.
Bianca’s standing there, her knuckles white as she grips the fallen lamp and steadies it on the table. She takes in a shuddering breath and looks up at us, and it’s then that I know she heard me. I don’t know how much, but that hurt look on her face is directed at me and only me. It cuts me to the very core, shredding me.
“Bianca,” I say her name lightly, just to get her attention, but she flinches as if I’d struck her. I can practically see the walls go up in defense.
Don’t run away from me, honey bee.
I put my hands up in surrender; I can explain this. It doesn’t reflect what I feel at all. I just need her to listen to me. I take a cautious step forward, knowing she wants to bolt. I know she does. She wants to run. I can see it. Don’t leave me.
“Just listen,” the words fall from my lips in a breath as she shakes her head and takes a step back. Her back hits the wall and she turns on her heel and takes off. “Bee,” Damon calls out to her but she ignores him, so he yells, “Bianca!” My throat instantly dries, and my chest feels tight.
It feels like a fucking punch to the gut. She wasn’t supposed to hear a damn word of this. She wasn’t supposed to be there.
“Fucking hell, Maddox,” Damon lets out a frustrated grunt. “You need to go apologize.” I stare at him, his pale blue eyes flickering with something I haven’t seen directed at me before. A challenge, and anger. It’s been a long damn time since something’s come between us. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m always fucking things up. “I’m sorry,” I force the apology out with both hands on my head and my eyes closed tight. My shoulders rise with my heavy intake and I wait for Damon to say something, but I’m met with silence.
I open my eyes slowly and he just shakes his head at me. “I don’t need you to tell me anything.” He motions to the hall and says, “Go tell her.”
“What am I supposed to say?” I ask him with exasperation. There’s not a damn thing that came out of my mouth that wasn’t true. It's just that none of us want to hear it.
“You need to go get her,” Damon says. I grit my teeth, flexing my hands into fists over and over. My heart fucking hurts, and all I can see is that wounded look in her eyes before she turned away.
Fuck, I shouldn’t have been talking about her like that. I don’t know how much she heard, but it doesn’t matter. All three of us know she’s not just a client. And she’s not just a good lay either. There’s more that’s going on here, but none of us want to admit it. At least I don’t. 'Cause once it’s said, it can’t be taken back.
She’s going to want a husband. One of them. And I’m not made out to be that man. I don’t even know if she’d want me without Damon. But I don’t want to let her go.
I look down the hall, knowing she’s going to want an explanation
, she’s going to want to talk. And it’s all gonna come to light. That she’s more to us than that, but she can’t be.
This can’t last.
“We have rounds to do,” I spit out the excuse, knowing that’s exactly what it is. It’s a good habit to check the perimeter, but out here it’s not needed. We have cameras and a security system covering every inch of the outskirts of the property. If someone’s coming, an alarm will go off and we’ll have time to prepare.
Damon narrows his eyes at me, knowing I’m just trying to back away from going to Bianca.
“Fine, you do rounds.” Damon dismisses me, already walking toward her and leaving me behind. “I’m gonna check on her,” he says easily. I give him a nod, telling myself he’s my best friend, he’s not trying to take her away from me. He’s not a fuckface like me. He’s not thinking the same shit that I am. We share. Everything, including our honey bee. But as he turns his back on me, I can’t stop the jealousy from creeping up on me.
I need to stop it. This jealousy is fucking with my head.
But when it comes to her, I can’t.
Chapter 16
Damon
I don’t know how much she heard, but I’ll set her straight. All three of us know we shouldn’t have started this, but now that it’s going, I’m not fucking stopping.
I open the door to her room slowly, not bothering to knock.
She’s on the bed, huddled up and looking so damn vulnerable. Our poor Bianca. Fuck, I take a deep breath, walking into the room and running my hand through my hair.
“It’ll be all right,” I tell her. “I promise.”
Bianca just glances at me from across the bedroom, and it’s enough to make my dick hard. That despondent expression on her gorgeous face calls to me. Does she even know how much power she has over us now? I’m almost relieved that Maddox is busy keeping watch outside, even if it is only because he doesn’t want to apologize.
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