The Rossi Crime Family: The Complete Five Book Mafia Series

by J. L. Beck

  “Damon, what happened after I left dinner? Are we safe? Are you okay?” Her voice is hoarse, and I’m sure if I could see her face it would be filled to the brim with every known emotion.

  “Yes, we are safe. My brother is not going to try to hurt you anymore. I made a deal with him.” Her whole body goes stiff in my arms.

  “A deal?” she whispers, as if it’s a secret.

  I know I’m being an asshole, and I’ll most likely regret it tomorrow, but I just want her close right now. After all we’ve been through, I want her close. But more than anything, I want her to shut up and go to sleep because the voices inside my head, the demons, won’t go away until I close my eyes and inhale her sweet scent.

  “He wants me to work for him, and I agreed to do it.” I hope the conversation ends here. But, of course, it doesn’t.

  “That’s it? He just wants you to work for him? That’s why he nearly choked the life out of me? So you would work for him?”

  She doesn't understand the repercussions of saying no to my brother, or that her life would be on the line if I disagreed, so I’m not surprised by her lack of understanding.

  “I’m working for him in exchange for your brother’s debt being paid. But I had to do something else to ensure your continuous protection. I won’t lose you, Keira. Not now, not ever. And…well, technically, I haven't done it yet, but I promised I would as soon as possible.”

  “What is it, Damon?” Her voice is shaky, and I bet she thinks I’ll have to kill somebody.

  “I need to get married.”

  Silence settles over us.

  “To who?”

  I can’t believe she just asked me this. Does she expect me to marry someone else?

  “To you, of course. We’re getting married…soon. Very soon. You will officially be mine, and everybody in the world will know it.”

  She twists in my arms, breaking my tight grip. Her movement causes the lights to turn back on, and it’s then I see the horror in her gaze.

  “You’re not serious, right? You didn’t actually tell your family you would marry me, did you?” She seems upset. The look in her eyes tells me so. How can she be angry with me after I’ve given up everything for her? After all I’ve done to protect her? It pisses me off.

  “I can’t believe you’re fucking mad over this. I did this for you, Keira. For us. It was either marry you or worry my family might kill you. Is that what you want? Would you rather die than marry me?”

  I don’t want to hear her response.

  I twist away from her and shove out of bed. My head is clouded. I’m not thinking straight. I run my fingers through my hair and tug on the strands, willing my mind to work. When I turn around to face Keira, she’s sitting up in bed with the comforter pulled to her chest, her eyes full of worry.

  “No. That’s not what I want, Damon. I don’t want you tied to me forever—not when you can’t tell me you love me.”

  I want to laugh. Actually, I want to destroy this fucking room and all its contents. But I’m tired…so fucking tired.

  My gaze drops to the mattress, and I see blood. It sticks out on the white bed sheets, and I nearly vomit on the floor realizing I’ve truly become a monster.

  I fucked her hard enough to make her bleed. If I was Keira, I’d hate me too.

  I wouldn’t want to be married to a monster, but she doesn’t have a fucking choice—and neither do I.

  Keira’s eyes follow mine, and the horror in her gaze mirrors my own. She hides her facial expression as soon as she realizes the way she’s looking at me, but not fast enough. I’ve seen it, and I’ll do anything in my fucking power to make certain she doesn’t have to look at me that way again—ever.

  I can’t do this.

  I can’t lose her.

  I don’t deserve her.

  But I don’t care if I deserve her.

  She’s mine and always will be.

  I walk into the attached bathroom and turn on the water in the garden tub, making sure it’s the perfect temperature before I pour in the bath salts. When I walk back to the bedroom, Keira is still sitting right where I left her. Her eyes lift to mine as I enter the room.

  Her expression is inscrutable. I pull the comforter from her grip and reach for her naked body. I pluck her off the bed, cradling her to my chest. She’s a little tense, and I hate that I’m the reason. Holding her in my arms, I’m reminded of how little she weighs and realize I sent her upstairs without dinner.

  Fuck, this whole marriage thing isn’t getting off on the right foot. Bringing her into the bathroom, I lower her into the hot water.

  “Can I leave you here a few minutes? I need to get you something to eat.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll be here when you get back” She seems surprised, maybe even astonished, that I’m going to get her some food in the middle of the night. She better get used to it.

  If she’s going to be my wife, I’m going to take care of her any way I possibly can.

  Leaving Keira behind to enjoy her bath, I pull on some shorts and head downstairs. Walking through these hallways in the middle of the night awakens feelings I thought I had buried long ago.

  Picking up my pace, I make my way to the kitchen and head straight for the fridge without bothering to turn on the light.

  I find some leftovers—a few pre-made sandwiches and some fresh cut fruit. I pull out a small tray from the cabinet and pile it on. It’s so fucking weird that nothing seems to have changed.

  Every item in the house is in the same location. Just as I close the fridge and place two bottles of water on the platter, I hear it: a faint cry echoing through the house.

  For a moment, I panic, thinking it’s Keira, but then I realize it sounds more like a child…a baby even, and I pause. My ears strain to hear more cries, and I turn my head toward where I think it’s coming from.

  Then it stops.

  Shaking my head, I take the platter and make my way upstairs.

  I must have had a little more to drink than I thought.

  A baby? In this fucking house? That’s hilarious.

  I push the stupid thought away, and by the time I enter the bathroom, the tub is filled all the way. Only Keira's head is above the water.

  I set the tray down on the counter and pick up a sandwich. Kneeling beside the tub, I hold it in front of her mouth, urging her to eat. She eyes it curiously before taking her hands out of the water to grab it.

  “No, I’ll feed you. Your hands are all wet and soapy. Plus, it’s the least I can do after...” my voice trails off. I know she came. I felt her pussy gripping my cock, but it doesn’t make the fact that I treated her as badly as one of my fucking lays back at the strip club, or how I treated her after dinner. She means more than that to me.

  “Please stop. It’s okay, Damon. It’s not like I didn’t enjoy it too.” She smiles softly and lets her hands fall below the water while she opens her perfect mouth to take a bite. Her pink tongue darts out over her bottom lip, and I want to kiss her instead of feed her right now.

  “If you don’t like this, I brought a variety of foods you can try.”

  “I see that.” She smiles while chewing. “This is really good. I like it.”

  I feed her the whole sandwich, bite after bite, and I don’t know how, but my cock starts to harden all over again. I had no fucking clue feeding someone could be so erotic.

  But, fuck, it is. The way her plump lips from around the bread, grazing my fingers…it’s so fucking sexy. I want to fuck her again. Now.

  I tamp the need down, though, and grab the bottle of water, twisting off the cap. I hand it to her and watch her finish almost the whole bottle.

  God, I am horrible. Clearly, she was hungry and thirsty. I should’ve taken care of her needs before taking care of mine, and for that, I am a prick—a big ass prick.

  “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I was a selfish prick tonight. I should’ve made sure you had food and water sent up.” I lean over the tub and press a soft kiss to her
forehead. “It won’t happen again.”

  Keira sighs, sounding as if she’s enjoying the luxury of being pampered, and I must say, I’m enjoying it too.

  I grab a washcloth from the cabinet under the sink, then kneel back down beside the tub. She rests her head on the rim and stares at me in awe as I take the cloth and start to wash her body.

  She closes her eyes and lets out a low moan, sounding as if this is the best thing she’s ever felt. I will have to make note of the things she enjoys so I can do them more often.

  As I wash lower down her belly and between her legs, I am extra careful my movements are slow and graceful. I watch for any signs of discomfort. Her eyebrows pull together, and her delicate features tense up as I brush the washcloth over her thigh.

  She is trying to hide that I hurt her, and I don’t understand why—not when we both know I see it. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and she whines when I go over the sensitive area.

  Seeing the pain in her eyes makes me want to stab myself in the heart a hundred times. She is so fragile—so fucking innocent in every way—and I took her like a fucking savage. I tore her from the inside out, making her bleed. My insides feel like they’re being ripped from my body. I should’ve stopped. I should’ve taken her slower. I should’ve prepared her. Made her come once or twice. But I was so caught up in the need to make her mine, everything but my lust for her slipped my mind.

  “It’s okay,” she tells me, as if reading my mind.

  Her words make it worse. She is trusting me with everything—with her life, her body, her heart. And I’ve done nothing but fail her. It’s me who’s responsible for her safety now. Me who’s supposed to make sure no one hurts her. Above all, it should never be me that hurts hers. I slow my movements and pull the washcloth from the water. There’s a red tinge on it, and I squeeze my eyelids shut, tossing the fucking thing over my shoulder.

  “It’s not okay, and it won’t happen again. It shouldn't have happened at all. And it will not happen again.” I say it more to myself than her. She doesn’t control my body, or my fucked up mind, so it’s not her fault I lost my cool.

  “But I want it to happen again.”

  I shake my head, the frustration in me mounting. “You don’t mean that, Keira.” I run my knuckles along her cheek, feeling how fragile her skin and bones are beneath my touch. I’ve killed people. I’ve bathed in their blood, but when I’m with Keira, I want to forget that part of myself. I want to cherish and hold her.

  I stare down at her. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I’ll protect you no matter what, no matter how. You don’t have to pretend you like being hurt because you’re scared.”

  “I’m not scared,” she admits with a shy grin. “I just…I want you to be satisfied, and I want to be the one satisfying you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to go somewhere else for your needs—even more so now that I know we’re getting married. I want to be able to take whatever you give me…whenever you want.”

  “Is this about what Hayley said? Did she tell you I didn’t want you? That’d I’d leave you?” Anger doesn’t even begin to describe how I am feeling.

  “Listen to me, Keira.” I grip her chin firmly now. “Don’t fucking believe a single word she says. She’s no one. A fucking whore. And not that it matters, but this has nothing to do with being satisfied. I was satisfied making love to you. I was satisfied fucking you…being inside you. Hell, I was satisfied just with the simple fact that you let me touch you.”

  Her eyes fill with tears. “But there’s a difference between all those things and tonight. The difference has everything to do with me and the fact that I let my anger get out of control. I let it cloud my thoughts and my judgement. And I took that anger out on the one person who didn’t deserve it.”

  I feel my own eyes begin to water, but I blink the emotions away. “I hurt you, and I’ll never let myself get that out of control again. I’ll find another way to manage, but it won’t mean fucking you when I’m that far gone.”

  She gives me the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen, and I lean down and press my lips against hers tenderly. My heart starts beating out of my chest, and the pain of what I did pumps through my veins. I knew when she first told me she loved me I loved her too. I was just too weak...to consumed with fear to say it.

  But after tonight, I won’t hold back anymore. I let the words fall helplessly from my lips. “I love you, Keira. And I cannot wait for you to become my wife.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Keira

  His words replay on repeat. I love you, Keira…

  Shock isn’t even a word I could use to describe or explain how I feel. I’d been saying I love you to him for a while, but I didn’t think he would actually say the words to me—and never out loud.

  It’s like he’s changed. Something inside him has cracked, and he’s finally slipping his mask off and letting me in. He’s been acting like he cares for me—but is it love?

  I didn’t think it was possible for a man like Damon to admit he was is in love. Yet, here we are, in the bathroom of this giant house where he grew up with his brother, his tiny little secret right down the hall. If Damon was ever going to tell me he loved me, I didn’t suspect it would happen here.

  “Come on. Your hands are turning to prunes. Let’s get you dried off and into bed.”

  As I stand, I notice my legs are still weak, causing my knees to threaten to buckle beneath my weight. I was seriously exhausted before stepping into this hot bath, and now my muscles are relaxed, making me even hungrier for sleep.

  When I step out of the tub and into the large, fluffy towel Damon is holding out, the soreness between my legs flares, reminding me of the rough way he took me earlier. I was shocked at first—and he did hurt me in the beginning—but once my body adjusted, I enjoyed the way he took me.

  He was hot and possessive, and he made my body shake with need. The orgasm was mind blowing. I’m so confused by the way he made me feel, I don’t think I can explain it to Damon in a way he’ll understand—at least not tonight. But I do hope he does it again, because there was something so primal about the way he wanted me, needed me. Like he had to have me. Thinking about it makes my muscles clench and my body hum.

  I realize we, once again, didn’t use a condom, and my mind shifts to the secret down the hall.

  When will Xander tell his brother about his son? How long will I have to keep this secret from Damon?

  Damon’s touch pulls me from my thoughts as he wraps me up in the towel, pulling me into his chest. As he starts to dry me off, I thank the good Lord for delivering a man to me who I consider to be one the best alive. My eyes comb his well-defined upper body, his shoulders and the cords of muscles in his throat. His biceps flex, and my core clenches. My gaze slips lower over his abdomen and down to his V. His muscles tighten with every move he makes, and I can’t stop the urge I have to reach out and touch him. I want to feel him under my fingertips.

  I trace his pecs, enjoying how smooth and warm his skin feels and how hard the muscle is beneath it. It’s so small, I almost miss it, but when my fingers go back over the same patch of skin, I notice a small blemish—an abnormality on an almost perfect surface.

  “What’s this?” I trace the small indentation, becoming aware Damon is done drying me off and now staring down at me as I feel him up.

  “It’s a bullet wound,” Damon says, as if it’s obvious I’d know that.

  “Yeah. I gathered that it was a wound. Why? Who shot you?” I have a fierce need to protect Damon—which is strange since he can kill with his bare hands. I love him, and the thought of someone shooting or hurting him bothers me a lot.

  He tosses the towel over his shoulders, pads out of the bathroom, brushing past me, and I worry he may not give me an answer.

  As fast as my legs allow, I follow behind him, watching as he walks to his dresser and pulls out a T-shirt and a pair of boxers.

  “Here, you can sleep in these. I forgot to bring the luggage ins
ide, and I don’t want to go back out to get it.” He gives me a soft smile. “Hope that’s okay.”

  I narrow my gaze. “Who shot you, Damon?”

  His eyes darken. “I don’t think you’re ready to hear the dirty details about my family, baby. We’re a seriously fucked up crowd, and I intend to keep you as far away from it all as I can.”

  For as long as I’ve known Damon, I’ve been a pushover. I’ve allowed him to sweep things under the rug, but if I’m going to marry him and make it through a life with him, then I’m going to need to tighten my backbone. I’m going to need to say what I want to, when I want to.

  “It’s a little late to save me from the gory details. I know things now. Things that can’t be unseen or unheard.” I soften my voice. “And I know it’s in the past—a past that doesn’t include me—but I am part of your life now, and if you’re seriously going to marry me, I’ll be part of your future for a long time. I want to protect you like you protect me. I want to hear about your problems…your fears. I want to be your equal. So, dammit, just tell me.”

  When my eyes meet Damon’s. I expect to see anger, maybe even fury, but there’s humor in his gaze and smile.

  “I don’t know how you do it, Keira, but you make me fucking want you more and more every day. It’s sickening and terrifies the fuck out of me.”

  His response warms my heart and makes me smile. I cross the room and get dressed in the items he set out, waiting impatiently for him to tell me. I have to roll the boxers more than a couple times to get them to stay on my waist, and when I pull on his shirt, it lands at my knees. I feel and look like I’ve been swallowed by cotton.

  When I settle onto the mattress, Damon sits beside me and reaches for my hand—like he needs to be touching me in some way to tell me this story. I don’t mind. His touch is comforting, kind, and I love that he’s finally showing me his different sides. He reminds of a kaleidoscope. I see a different shape and color every time I look, and then they become clearer.