Was that the twitch of a smile she saw?
“Just trying to be polite… Miss… Rosamma.” The way he tasted her name made heat rush between her legs. His supple lips twisted and twitched on each syllable before his gaze focused back on her face. And the tongue sticking from between her teeth, caught halfway between licking and being bitten.
That was definitely a smile she saw.
“Perhaps we should board the plane?” Her suggestion felt shaky until Ekene held out an elbow for her to take. He stared at his arm as if it moved without permission, but she knew better than to ask twice, and latched on. “Have you ever been to Italy?”
“I have family all over the world. Even Italy.” He stated, leading her to the side of the jet. Stairs popped out leading to the main cabin. A cozy sitting area big enough for them and a few friends if they wanted.
Ekene’s shoulders began to loosen as he spoke, and a soft sigh left Rosamma. So he liked family, that was good to know. She could use that information to build a bridge across the invisible divide between them. “Will I get to meet them too?”
Stunned by the question, it took a moment for Ekene to nod. “If you’d like.”
“Is that not a normal request?” She mewled, worrying her lower lip. Warmth pressed on the small of her back in the shape of his hand and guided her up the first step. Softness gentled his harsh features before his scowl snapped back into place.
“Not for the reasons you’re asking.” Before she could ask what he meant, he pressed hard enough to get her on the second step. But his hand didn’t move. One accidental graze of calloused fingers on her ass, and Rosamma was up the stairs with a loud squeak.
Mortified by the overreaction, she wasted no time flopping into a solo seat and buckling herself in. It wasn’t the first time she’d been in Papa’s jet. On the right side was a single sitter perfect for reclining that she took. On the left was a couch with enough room for a small party. But the best part of the plane was the private bedroom complete with a wall and door.
Perhaps that’s where she should’ve hidden herself. Even when finished buckling, she continued to fiddle until Ekene went to the couch on the other side of the plane. There was enough room for a stewardess to move between them, which only made her that much more self conscious.
Was she avoiding him now? Did he do something so wrong - the jet lurched and her stomach went with it. Immediate discomfort rumbled in Rosamma’s belly and she yanked down the window cover at the sight of them leaving the hangar.
“You good?” It took a moment to register what Ekene said, but her head was already shaking a no in response.
“Where is your favorite place in the world?” She blurted, earning another bewildered look. “You said you have family everywhere, you must visit.”
“Yeah.” The word is drawn out with a long suspicious twang. Another jerk of the aircraft sent Ekene back against his seat, a tilt signalling lift off. Unable to stop the childish need to cover her eyes, Rosamma tried to ignore the constant high pitched whine coming from the machine. The plane was broken. They were going to crash and -
“You okay, Miss Rosamma?” Her breath hitched at his question, and the noise stopped. It’d been her making that scary sound - or rather the scared sound.
“I don’t like flying.” She admitted, tears building in her eyes as turbulence started kicking the plane around.
“But have you seen the view?” A warm burr brushed against her ears, and inch by inch the fingertips covering honey brown eyes lowered. The first thing her spotted vision locked onto was the handsome strength of Ekene's jaw and the downward tilt of a mouth used to frowning.
Ekene cocked his head to the still open window on his side. Beyond the smattering of islands and land rested a calm ocean. The sun glimmered off waves, a mirror to the less spectacular sky. A drop of water fell on Rosamma’s chest, and when she swiped at her cheeks, they were puffy from tears.
“It’s pretty.” She sniffed.
“You should see the sunset in Cuba. Now that’s a sunset.”
She giggled, rubbing her nose with an arm. “Is that where you got your strong jaw from?”
And he laughed. The sound was beyond pleasant; it was a damn aphrodisiac. Rosamma shifted her arms between her knees so the thin cotton of her shirt wouldn’t betray her, nipples tightening as if a feather were being run down her naked skin.
“My father would say I got it from him.”
“You’re more handsome than your father.” Out before she could stop them, he smiled at the words. It was a compliment not a flirtation. Her thoughts whispered, too close to scolding. Either way, it earned another smile, and this time there was no need to guess.
A loud Ting! and the seatbelt light switched off. They were in the air and flying smooth with nothing to worry about. And yet… fear still weighed at the corner of her lips and furrowed her brow.
“Would you like to sit with me?” The offer made Rosamma want to cry in relief. Without further prompting, her seatbelt was off and she was across the plane in the seat next to his. Not even waiting for her to settle in, Ekene trapped her against the seat with muscled arms. He leaned in close, stalling the breath in her lungs.
Click.
And he’s back in his own chair, a seat belt tight along Rosamma’s hips. He buckled her. For some reason, it worked and the weight on her chest lifted. When instinct dragged her hand to the windows blinds, Ekene took her wrist and shook his head. “But have you seen the view though?”
This time it’s her turn to laugh. His touch lingered when pulled away, a tingle the only remaining sensation. On the arm rest his palm was face up, revealing deep harsh grooves and even scarring.
From wrist to finger a white line drew Rosamma’s attention. Unable to resist, she allowed a well manicured nail to trace the subtle line. Ekene jumped, his eyes going wide as he watched her. He didn’t pull away like she thought he might. Instead he struggled to hold her gaze for the first time, a jagged breath tumbling from his throat.
The unexpected ring of a phone ruined the moment they shared, and they both jumped. But only Rosamma leapt forward and wrapped her arms around him in fright. Hard ridges of muscle tightened under her touch before relaxing. She imagined this wasn’t the first time someone reached for him expecting protection. It was kind of his job.
“Do you always get this chummy with your employees?” Ekene’s voice came as a whisper, his breath lifting a few strands of hair. All the pleasant places of her body twitched, and she prayed to god he didn’t feel the hardness of her nipples, or notice the flush on her skin was from arousal instead of embarrassment.
“It’s your job to protect me.” Rosamma tried to install a huff into the words, but instead she sounded more kittenish than ever. Her fingers rubbed along his bicep in mindless swirls as she spoke, squeezing on the final word. “The phone scared me.”
“What’s scaring you now?” Viridescent eyes peered at the way she rubbed and massaged his arm, another twitch flicking the corner of his lips upwards. Another sharp ring split the air between them.
Rosamma dropped his arm as if it were a burning log and scrambled to her feet. “I’ve got it!” The insistent sound rang from the private room, and she cursed herself for not sequestering herself in there sooner. She’d thought about it. Should’ve, could’ve, would… have.
Right.
Chapter Three
Whoever called the jet and broke the intense moment between them deserved a thank you. If he weren’t a professional man Ekene might consider taking advantage of his protector role. Cock at half mast, he was two seconds away from grabbing Rosamma by the cheeks and shoving his tongue down her throat. From the looks of it, she’d like having the squirming muscle between those lips and… others.
And if anyone were to blame for those thoughts, it’d be her. Models were supposed to be more beautiful in pictures than in real life. That was one of many modeling rules. And she threw it out the window. Over-saturated lighting from photo shoots
didn’t do Rosamma Esposito justice. When Ekene first saw the pixilated images of her, he was floored. He was a man, and she was a fucking model. Of course he reacted to the half-clothed pictures of a beautiful woman selling sex and a handbag.
It was nothing compared to the physiological response he had to her in person. All the blood in his body rushed downwards when Rosamma exited her limo, and it still hadn’t left his cock. A short white tennis skirt and a threadbare shirt showing off a lacy white bra underneath killed him with a semi permanent hard on. Not a bullet or the weight of Uday’s legacy.
Her. Those bouncy, perky tits, and a tight ass.
In her haste to escape the chemistry between them, Rosamma’s attempt to slam the cabin door resulted in it bouncing back open. Turned away from the door, a narrow line of vision allowed Ekene a full view of her subtle womanly curves. As she flounced over to the private phone cheeks pinker than a strawberry, he knew it was too late.
Her pictures had promised the same Amazonian height most models had, and the long, long legs Rosamma sported didn’t disappoint. If not for his own impressive size, Ekene might have felt a little emasculated. The caveman inside of his brain laughed at the absurd thought. Even five foot ten, her slender frame would fold over his shoulder with no trouble.
His previous resolution to remain neutral and disgruntled were out the window. He’d never do anything to betray the trust blooming in her innocent chest. Those honey brown eyes glaring at him full of fear and pain would destroy Ekene. Not in the same ways it would a normal man. He feared he might enjoy being the cause of her cries and tears too much.
He shouldn’t be thinking those things, even by accident. Each minute that passed made it harder to keep up the short responses and sharp quips he came into this with. Ekene didn’t want to do a good job, he was determined not to take this contract serious damn it.
Except he did his best work when he cared for the person or cause he was championing, and Rosamma was plowing a path right to his heart. Being on a first name basis? Familiar touching? Teasing conversation? The more he cared the harder he would work to protect his new ward.
Full stop. These aren’t the types of thoughts he should be having while waiting for Rosamma to return. Some employees called him paranoid for the secret bond he formed with them, since he never spoke of it. He preferred well prepared.
It earned him a reputation as the best and spurred his career even farther than Uday’s money could. Now it was biting him in the ass in the form of a goddess with buttery smooth olive tinted skin. But women like her didn’t gravitate towards the whips and chains side of toy stores.
They didn’t walk through the front door of those shops, let alone coo at all the butt plugs master could stuff inside them. For her, he’d supply a tail to yank and pull on when she’s bad or too shy. Something told him he’d be tugging on that strip of fluff for hours. Guilt tickled his breastbone.
Whatever she was talking about couldn’t be good, and he was fantasizing about butt plugs. The little bird hunched as if being berated, but the sharp tone of her voice spoke of control over whoever was on the other end of the line. This would be trouble. Secret, hushed, phone calls never boded well for the bodyguard on duty. Another reason why he got out of that life - too damn dangerous. Maybe other men of his caliber lived to die, but not Ekene.
Rapid Italian continued to spout from the room. Sometimes it grew louder only to lower back to a demur voice. When Rosamma hung up, her head sagged in a vulnerability he knew she wouldn’t want him to see. Before she could turn and catch his never ending stare, Ekene flicked his gaze out of the window. The perfect image of non sleuthing boredom.
With his peripheral vision he watched as she turned around only to discover the door still open. The blurred outline of Rosamma grew stiff. Whatever bullshit he was selling, she wasn’t buying it.
“Do you speak Italian?” she asked.
Ekene expected to hear the strong straight laced tone from the phone call demanding answers. Instead the whimper of a meek mouse called to him. He was ashamed to feel his dick become even stiffer and tried to rationalize it away. Plenty of women used that same voice on him when they craved a pity fuck. When they wanted sympathy in the middle of a spanking, or were upset about one thing or another in their work or home life.
Rosamma wasn’t trying to convey the same slutty intentions. “Only bits and pieces. Enough to order a coffee.”
His words were a winch, drawing skin tight around her mouth and eyes. Yeah, he caught a few words she spoke. Mama. Coffee. And on the other side of the receiver, someone even shouted puttana. Ekene hoped it wasn’t her mother. But with all the happiness and life leaking from the bubble of delight Rosamma once was, Ekene knew better than to hope.
“How prepared are you for on-the-spot schedule changes?”
An exaggerated groan from him earned a small smile that warmed Ekene’s stomach more than a thousand dollar whisky. “My job is to follow you around to make sure nothing happens. And you are a model. With that in mind you might say I’m ready to move on the drop of a hat.”
“You researched the life of a model?” Despite her attempts to hold back the full-blown grin threatening her lips, nothing dimmed the mirthful glimmer in Rosamma’s eyes. “That’s not very manly.”
He scoffed as if wounded, hand to chest and everything. And then she was giggling, flopping on the seat next to him, and clutching his arm like they’ve been pals for years. More than friends, if the way her breasts pressing against his bicep hinted at anything. God, he hoped so.
No he fucking didn’t!
“It isn’t anything special.” She admitted after her giggle fit. “Mama insists I see her when I’m in the neighborhood.”
“For coffee?”
“For coffee.” She confirmed, her lips thinning.
∞∞∞
The flight to Italy was a long one, time wise. Rosamma always came prepared to ride on a plane and sipped down a bottle of water complete with a sleeping pill. When she woke up, it was to the feel of a strong thigh on her cheek accompanied by the slight tremble of turbulence.
At some point she’d fallen into Ekene’s lap and snuggled him for the entire flight. Rosamma flushed bright pink from head to toe at the implication that he might have enjoyed her presence as much as she enjoyed his. Unable to contain a soft smile, she peeked upwards through dark chestnut hair to stare at the handsomeness of his dark face.
With nothing to do for eight hours, trapped beneath a sleeping model, Ekene had followed her lead and closed his eyes. Even in slumber, hard lines implied a scowl. It was almost funny, but a soft ache in her chest was displeased by the never-ending frown. Fingers flinching in hesitation, Rosamma brought her thumb to his brow.
Ekene jerked awake, the startled gems of his eyes sparkling. Swallowing past a dry throat Rosamma said, “We’re descending.” She smoothed the frown lines from his forehead before she rose from his lap with a sluggish yawn.
“Do you want to watch?” He mumbled, rubbing the dreariness from his face. A taste of green formed on Rosamma’s tongue at the suggestion and she shook her head.
“I want to pee.” She muttered, jumping from the couch before he could yank on the window blinds.
“That’s not very lady like.” Ekene chuckled, covering his grin when she glared over a shoulder. The seat belt light flashed with a loud ping!
“Neither is ignoring that.” With a huff and a flip of the hair Rosamma went to refresh herself before they landed. The descent to Rome was smooth, warm summer skies clearer than glass. At least that’s what Ekene swore they looked like. She’d wait to disembark before making that judgment.
As they got low to the ground, the jet began to shake. He didn’t tease Rosamma when her nails dug into his muscled arm, and her face hid against his shoulder. In fact, Ekene even stroked her hair at the sound of a soft squeak. The wheels screeched against pavement, and he drowned the sound out with a soft lullaby. Just a hum. A small vibration in a powerful chest,
and her panic disappeared.
They sat in musical silence, Rosamma joining her weak voice to his until the rolling of the plane came to a stop. Warm calloused fingers slid beneath her palm, nudging upwards until she stood. Ekene followed her path out of the jet when the door swung open. As they walked down the steps, she couldn’t help but glance over a shoulder and laugh. “Maybe you should change careers to a therapist.”
“Support dog might be a better fit.”
Despite being in another country, the private hangar appeared the same as the one in New York. Glistening linoleum, and a whole wall removed to allow the jet indoor access. A simple glance up to check Ekene’s progress made lightning arch through her blood. It felt like he was devouring her with his smoldering gaze, his steps languid and gradual.
Rosamma waited at the bottom of the stairs, prim and proper with her hands folded in front of her and head bowed. A habit she’d learned a long time ago from her Mama. One that Papa agreed was a good trait to teach a daughter. Some models in America said it sounded ‘old fashioned’ and ‘a little sexist’. But Italy was nothing if not old fashioned, and she’d only started her career at the age of seventeen. That was five years ago.
Now Ekene was drawing out the moment, savoring her submissive stance. It took everything she had not to flee towards the awaiting limo. Part of her wanted him to chase after her and smack her bottom for doing that.
Leather boots that cost more than her entire humble outfit hit pavement, making her swallow. This was a man who belonged in the world of money far more than she ever did. He might be willing to teach me. Rosamma’s traitorous brain whispered.
“Shall we?” Ekene held out his arm, and she latched onto it without hesitation. They both entered the car, allowing time for the driver to load luggage in the back. The first thing Rosamma did was turn on her cell phone. The time adjust flashed a bright 8:30am at her. Perfect for getting coffee with -
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