192 - Nikki Belaire

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I don’t like hassles. That’s why I work alone. No reason to be modest, I’m the best at what I do. And what I do is earn millions from rich bastards who hire me to get back what’s theirs. Rescuing Viviana Moretti is just another job. Get in. Get out. Get gone. Take the money and disappear like always. Until she cries my name instead of his, And I finally admit I want her even more than she needs me.

This book is intended for mature audiences only and contains extremely sensitive material including domestic violence that may not be suitable for all readers.

192 (One Ninety-Two) Copyright © 2018 Nikki Belaire All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Playlist Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Epilogue Other Books About Nikki

Lights Down Low—Max, gnash Praying—Kesha Dusk Till Dawn—Zayn, Sia Ain’t Giving Up—Craig David, Sigala Treat You Better—Shawn Mendes Just You and I—Tom Walker More Than You Know—Axwell Ingrosso Hero—Enrique Inglesias Kryptonite—3 Doors Down Sweet Child O’ Mine—Guns N’ Roses 2U—David Guetta, Justin Bieber Home—Phillip Phillips

I fucking hate this bastard. The way he shovels huge chunks of sausage into his mouth with his hands. Instead of using a fucking fork like a normal person. Wiping the grease from his stubby fingers after each bite on the crumpled napkin next to his plate. His lips smacking and spewing crumbs while he speaks with Dante, his brother and most trusted captain. Gloating from the expansion of his territory as his team —not his lazy ass —brings down another family encroaching on his domain. Reveling in his power and money and dominance. Unconcerned with everything and everyone else except himself. Including her. Especially her. My pulse pounds in my head from her absence. Only one reason she’s not here. No question that he hurt her. Just how bad are the injuries. Finally, the arrogant prick shoves away from the black walnut table. The coffee mug bucking

against his untouched bowl of strawberries from his gratuitous force. His barrel chest strains the buttons of his thick white dress shirt as he rises. Too big for a crisp look, he settles for comfort instead. Of which he deserves absolutely none. So fucking ironic he prevents pain and constraint for himself while doling out both to the person who deserves torture the least of all of us. From the sound of his chair legs scraping across the tile, the housekeeper scurries in, offering him his gray cashmere coat with trembling fingers. Which he yanks out of her hand without bothering to look at her. Not a word of thanks or appreciation. At least better than the slew of profanities he usually berates her with. He nods toward me while he rams his huge arms into the gaping sleeves. Already huffing from the exertion. “My stupid, clumsy wife fell again. Check and make sure she’s okay.” An irritated smirk lifts his ruddy right cheek. “If not, just take her out back and shoot her.” It takes everything I have to chuckle instead of drive my fist into his gut. Smile rather than punch his stomach so hard he chucks out bacon and blood and bile. “No problem.” Once he waddles past, I pull out my phone and scroll through my messages. Counting to twentyfive after the door slams shut behind him. Waiting for the rumble of one of the garage doors. I’ll play

the game. Act unconcerned. Pretend there’s no rush. Feign oblivious to the truth of the situation. I’m just performing another monotonous duty assigned to me. Nothing else. Even though she’s my only fucking reason for being here. My only fucking reason for enduring this shitty assignment. I stride to the stairs and pause again, bending down to tie my shoe. Never letting him or anyone else see me hurry. Made that mistake once before, and ended up on driveway duty for a month before I got assigned to guard her again. Once the ceiling camera pivots to scan the living room, I jog up the steps. No response when I knock on their bedroom door. Closing my eyes, I slow my breathing to focus on listening for a sound. Any fucking sound to prove he hasn’t killed her yet. Absolute silence. Tapping again, I pray to a god I don’t believe in that she’s sitting on the bed. Waiting for approval to leave. Hoping for release from her cage. “Viviana?” Nothing. Fuck it. I shove down the handle, and an inferno roars through my throbbing chest from her curled into herself on the tan carpet. A protective mechanism that never saves her from his wrath. She remains balled in agony when I drop next to her. “God damn him.” “I—I’m okay.”

My fragile warrior. So broken yet still so surprisingly strong. “Yeah, laid out on the fucking floor isn’t okay.” “Sometimes it’s just easier to stay down.” Fucking bittersweet to touch her. Only permitted when he’s attacked her, and I have to tend to her wounds. Silky strands slide under my fingertips as I brush the long, black hair off her exquisite face. Grateful no bruises or blood mar the flawless ivory skin this time. “Come on. Let’s get you up.” A sharp shriek, she can’t muffle as much as she tries to, oscillates across the huge room when I lift her to a sitting position. Reigniting my fury that he’s put his hands on a woman. Especially one as delicate as her. Too petite to defend his blows. Too proud to protect herself from his torture. Too plagued by a misguided obligation she sure as hell doesn’t owe him. Short pants puff between her red puckered lips to ride through the pain. Probably bruised ribs again. I force myself not to rub across her torso and feel for broken bones. Uncertain if I could stop myself from caressing her more. When all I want to do is scoop her up and get her the fuck out of this hellhole. “What happened this time?” Despite her agony, a deep blush spreads across her flushed cheeks. Too embarrassed to answer. Which means the worst possible transgression in

that bastard’s eyes. She started. Fuck. The last fucking thing I want is her carrying his baby. But the possibility of her getting pregnant is the only thing keeping her alive right now. Although she doesn’t realize the real reason behind his insane drive to impregnate her. “I’m sorry.” “Me too.” Only a whisper. From mental as well as physical anguish. “Maybe we should stay home today. Let you rest.” Her head flies up, and she finally meets my gaze. Tears shining in hers. Less from the pain and more from my suggestion. Imploring me with a pitiful plea I can’t resist. “Please Roan. Please take me. I can’t miss.” Absolutely ridiculous this daily excursion provides her only opportunity to leave the house without him. Yet I can’t blame her for wanting to escape. If only for two brief hours. “Okay.” Gratitude softens her begging grip on my forearm. A tentative smile actually lifts her gaunt cheeks. Impressing me once again with her resiliency. Astonishing me with her tenacity. “Thank you.” As gentle as I can manage, I pull her up the rest of the way and stand her on her dainty feet. She sways a bit. Her slender arm curling around her torso again while her gorgeous face blanches. But

fuck me if she’s not determined, and after a short minute, she rolls back her shoulders and steps toward the door. Clutching my bicep for balance. For as horrific as the abuse is to her body and her mind, we manage to walk in amenable silence down the stairs, through the kitchen, and into the garage. Can’t appear to be anything more than employee and employer’s trophy wife. Even though she’s so much more than that to me. Originally, because of my promise to her father. Now, because of her. Adhering to the normal routine, she pauses at the SUV, waiting for me to open the door and offer my hand to assist her with the climb inside. Not because she’s a bitch, but because that’s what nine years of mafia wife training taught her. She’s a princess and needs to behave as such. “Thank you Roan.” “My pleasure Mrs. Moretti.” No, not my pleasure at all. So many other fucking things I’d like to do for her. To her. Pleasure her more than she could ever imagine. Revere her body with the absolute adoration and attention she’s never known. But I can’t. I remind myself for the millionth fucking time. She’s not mine. This is just a job. Once she’s settled against the cushion, I yank the seat belt and carefully drape the heavy strap across her trembling body, continuing to recoil from

the stinging ache she must feel in her side. Providing a small respite from the agony in her torso by keeping her from having to reach backward to grasp the harness herself. Another gorgeous flush pinks her cheeks. Both of us well aware I’ve crossed a line I shouldn’t. But she doesn’t reprimand me like she should. Admonish me like I deserve. Just lights up with a grateful smile that I think of as I jack off in the shower almost every morning. A budding connection between us that no one else knows about. Or so I think. Caught in the gaze of Nobbie, Moretti’s most trusted mechanic, when I step back from the vehicle. As nonchalant as I can manage, I offer him a courtesy nod and push the door shut. He gives a languid chin bob in return. Doesn’t appear to give a damn about her, me, or our morning expedition. Just keeps the cars running and free of bombs and bugs. As long as Moretti stays off his ass and out of his face, he’s happy. Like all the other hired help on the motherfucker’s payroll. But I’ve still got to be more fucking careful. I cannot fuck this up again and be separated from her. Or put her in any more danger than she already is. Funny how much more oxygen there seems to be in the car once we pass through the massive steel gates edging the property. Unable to stop myself, I glance in the rear view mirror, seeing

rather than hearing her sigh of relief. Mimicking mine when we cross the line between charcoal travertine pavers to black asphalt. Breaching the boundary between hell and the pitiful version of the only heaven she knows. An inadequate freedom, yet alI I can assume is the fleeting taste gives her the will to endure the other twenty-two hours of the day. “Have you seen the new building going up on Wilford? The neo classical architecture is unusual for the neighborhood, but the design really looks gorgeous. I love how they’re revitalizing that area.” Current events. Another staple of her breeding. To have genial conversation in all situations. Whether at dinner parties or fundraisers or meetings with her husband’s associates. “No, I haven’t.” I know she hasn’t either. Just an article she read from the stack of newspapers waiting for her at breakfast every morning when she’s allowed to eat. With censored and monitored access to the internet, she’s primarily stuck with flipping pages old school style rather than scanning online. “Maybe we can swing by afterward and take a look.” Excitement explodes across her exquisite face before fear smothers the enthusiasm just as quickly from my suggestion for an impromptu field trip. “Thank you, but we’d probably better get back

right after mass. I don’t…” Want to get the hell beat out of me for being late. She doesn’t have to imply the threat we both know too well. Her worry the same as mine. Anything can set that asshole off, but staying out longer than allowed would be an egregious offense she would most definitely suffer for. But I’m allotted about ten minutes leeway for traffic and construction once we leave St. Mark’s before I get the inevitable status check. Just enough time for a fast drive by. “We should have a few minutes to spare for a quick peek.” “Really?” Fucking sad how quickly her huge smile returns from my assertion. To give her a glimpse of something she usually only gets to read about. To see a brief view of the real world instead of the constraining walls of Arturo’s mansion. “Yeah, really.” “Thank you Roan. Thank you so much.” A subtle shiver of excitement jerks her slight body as she clasps her small hands around her little black purse again. Fuck me for a being a pussy ass that I’m ecstatic too. A rare opportunity for me to give her a bright spot in her normally shit ass existence. Her expression softens to a more solemn countenance when I park in front of the entrance. Intricate designs, carved deep enough to drag your

finger through the channels, embellish the burnished wood doors. Incapable of completely masking the rich baritone voices resonating from inside. The largest cathedral in the city, famous for having a glorious choir perform even during weekday masses. I can see why she loves coming here. Not just an escape from the monotony of her life, but because of the solace the ambiance inspires. Unwilling to let her struggle for even a second to unbuckle her restraint, I hustle back to her and jerk the handle. Relief fills me from her relaxed demeanor and motionless hands. She waits for me. My fingers brush across her thigh as I reach for the black plastic button. Powerless to help myself from touching her again. I’m a fucking selfish bastard for pushing the limits of her modesty yet I fucking swear I can feel the heat radiating from her slim leg even under the silky fabric of her gray skirt. Wide eyes meet mine as she swallows softly. I’m a fucking fool for thinking she could feel anything for me. Would ever break the sincere vow she made to accept Arturo for better or worse three years ago. To renege on her promise to accept the duty of producing an heir to strengthen the partnership between the two families. Or so her father let her think. “Let me help you princess.” Luscious lips part with a quick intake of breath,

yet she only nods. Once I release the seat belt, I hold out both hands, slowly sliding her off the bench and balancing her once her silver heels reach the concrete. Never releasing her until the grimace frowning her normally docile face dissolves, and she stands up completely of her own volition. “Okay?” “Yes, thank you.” The breathless whisper stirs my desperate cock, and I force myself to let her go before I jerk her against me and taste that sweet pink mouth. Instead, I tuck her to my side, my arm swallowing her tiny waist, to avoid the tenderness afflicting her rib cage, and stride evenly inside. Hoping hard as fuck that Arturo doesn’t have men watching us anymore. Because that interaction was too fucking obvious. And I’m too fucking stupid. But I yearn for her touch as much as she yearns for freedom. And I’m scared as hell neither of us will ever fucking have either one if I don’t pull off this mission. Resonant voices fill the cavernous space while I guide her to the confessional. Fucking ironic she has no sins to seek forgiveness from, yet always remains the first person to engage in the sacrament every morning. That’s an argument I lost a long time ago when I questioned her about her commitment to this ritual. Rather than reprimand me for my audacity, she just smiled that indulgent

smile I like to believe is only for me, and reminded me we all have faults. No one is perfect. Except for her. A lime green light glows above the decorative frame, signaling the priest’s presence as well as the unoccupied booth. She gives me a shy smile before she steps out of my protective grasp and into the closet size room. After a quick sweep of the interior to ensure the chamber really is empty, I nod and close the door behind her. Now it’s my turn to wait. And try not to think how fucking pitiful she looked gingerly lowering herself onto the red leather kneeler. I deserve to burn in hell to plot a man’s death while standing in the middle of fucking church. The only person I hate more than him right now is myself and my inability to do anything about Arturo’s savage mistreatment of his wife. At least not yet anyway. Working as a mercenary for the past eleven years, I’ve never minded solo missions. Get in. Get out. Get gone. No complications. Just the way I like. Now, everything’s beyond fucking complicated. With her. With me. With the ‘us’ I can’t help but imagine once I get her away from this bastard. Unaware her time’s running out, she has no idea why I’m really here. The urgency to recruit a team for her rescue flares inside me. I can’t let her know the truth until she’s safe. A few curious glances toss my way from

standing guard. The regulars are used to me. I’m no longer of any interest. But the tourists can’t help but gawk. Everyone vying for their chance to snag a celebrity photo. Which I guess she kind of is. The beautiful yet reclusive wife of the most notorious crime boss in the country. Garnering gossip enough to spin a reputation of a fairy tale princess. Locked away in a tower with only a few rare public appearances that prove she exists. Except her prince isn’t charming. Far from it. Arturo Moretti’s a sick fucking psychotic bastard who demonstrates his possession of her through punches and kicks rather than love or affection. I unfurl my fists when the door nudges me in the back and swing around to jam my foot against the brass plate, offering her my arm. Welcoming a hint of soft flowers wafting over me as she steps closer. Looking up with what I swear is fucking adoration in her eyes. At least that’s what I fucking hope. That she trusts in me to always protect her. In the pew, she slowly glides to a kneeling position again while I sit a few inches away. Another reason I deserve to burst into fucking flames. Powerless to stifle the image of her on her knees for me. Letting me fuck that lush mouth. As tiny as the rest of her, I know she couldn’t accept all of me. But it would be damn gorgeous to watch her try. Before I’d lay her across my bed and worship her body the way a princess deserves. The

way she deserves. Incapable of pretending to be anything other than what I am, I remain still while she flows through the motions of the service. Although after all this time, I know exactly when to stand and what to say. I refuse to disrespect her beliefs and act like I possess the same devotion she holds. Besides, I’m no fool. I can steal another opportunity to watch her graceful movements and hear her reverent whispers without her realizing my gaze lies upon her. Only her occasional flinch of pain when she bends and rises ruins my enjoyment. Usually when we leave, tension returns to her body, coiling tighter and tighter with each step down the aisle. Anxiety stiffening her muscles from the uncertainty that awaits her when we get home. The reprieve from her hell ending almost before she could fully relax and enjoy the peace. This time though her happy visage remains. Eager to experience my unexpected suggestion, she embodies more genuine joy than I’ve seen in her since I hired on. After finally passing all of Arturo’s rigorous tests to honor the commitment I made to her father long before his unexpected death ruined our thoughtful planning. Taking almost three fucking long ass years to finally get inside the house and to her. Once we’re on the road again, I sneak another glance at her for as long as I can until I have to

return my attention to the traffic. “Can I ask you something?” A curious expectation fills her smile. Wondering what I’m going to say. “Sure.” “What do you pray for? Or will it not come true if you tell?” Genuine carefree laughter fills the SUV. Damn. I could die a happy fucking man hearing that too infrequent giggle bubble from deep inside her. “It’s not like they’re birthday wishes, silly.” She leans back against her seat. The humor softens to a wistful smile. “I pray God continues to keep my parents in his love and protection. I pray for strength and wisdom so I can be a better wife.” My fingers ache from clutching the steering wheel so tight. I fucking hate the doubt wobbling in her tone. Absolutely fucking nothing she could do better. She’s a fucking angel. He just needs to die. “That I’ll be a good mother someday if I get the opportunity.” Bright eyes meet mine again in the mirror. Full of a rare joy that glows bright even within the disillusioned depths. “When I was a little girl, my momma told me prayers of thanksgiving are God’s favorite. So I always make sure I thank God for giving me a friend like you.” Friend. What in the actual fuck? Probably the first time anyone has ever prayed for me, let alone been grateful for me. The irony not lost on me that she’s

appreciative for a killer who earns his living by ending the lives of others. A small hand covers her mouth as her face falls. Misunderstanding the horror of my expression. Unaware my furious headshake roots in shock rather than her undeserved label of me. “Oh, I apologize. I’ve presumed too much about our relationship.” She tucks a loose strand of thick dark hair behind her ear and the wavy tendril slides out just as quickly while she fidgets with the small bag in her lap. Squeezing the short black straps over and over. Laser focused on the smooth leather rather than me. “I just thought…I know how hard you work to take care of me. Arturo and I appreciate–” “You just surprised me, that’s all.” Like the bastard I am, I cut her off. I don’t want to hear anything about that asshole. Especially his fucking name on her gorgeous lips. This is about her. And me. “I am your friend Viviana.” I speak slowly. Emphasizing each word. Stressing the sincerity of my tone. Even though she sits two feet away, I need to make sure she hears me since she won’t look at me any longer. I’ve hurt her. So fucking fragile, and I fuck up her hesitant attempt at a deeper connection. “Really.” Her head bobs. Slow and uncertain. She doesn’t believe me. Thinks I’m just being nice. When I’m never nice. Except to her. Damn I’m a fucking

bastard for fucking this up. For fucking her up when all she asks is for a genuine friendship while living among a houseful of enemies. Nothing I can think of to convince her. Or lessen the strain pulsating between us. The silence hangs thick and uncomfortable. A balmy tension stealing my breath and my patience. I need to fix this. The only way I can. Drifting to the curb, I nod toward the side window. Tapping the button to lower the shaded, bullet proof glass. “What do you think?” She strains toward the fresh air and rising building as far as her seat belt allows. Taking in the first golden rays of the day glinting against the broad stone façade protected by thick white pillars. The hurt darkening her face from our earlier misunderstanding slowly smooths away to a quickening smile that fills my chest as much as her sweet face. Glowing from her plump lips to her almost black eyes. So fucking beautiful. All the tension melts from my muscles. She’s happy. If only for a moment. With our short leash and tight time, I can only circle the block twice before we have to return to the house. But she doesn’t protest when I drive away for the last time. As well aware of our limitations as I am. “Is there any place else you need to go?” Just a formality. We both know she’s not

allowed to go anywhere else. But for some fucked up reason I like to make her feel like she has choices. That her entire fucking life, down to the minute, isn’t monitored and decided and controlled. “No, but thank you. Home is fine.” Never once have I heard her complain or act like her situation isn’t pure bliss. But I swear I hear a crack in the confidence when she says home. Fuck how much she must hate going back to that prison. The jail her father mistakenly sentenced her to unaware his sudden demise a few months after his agreement with Arturo would ruin her life. Trapping her in a loveless marriage with the only purpose to ensure an heir. As well as a huge deposit into the bastard’s bank account. The quiet between us isn’t as stifling as before. Her smile still lingers, with her body soft and relaxed. Even after we return to the compound. Instead, I’m the one full of tension once we circle the drive. God fucking damn. Dante waits outside. With a broad stance, arms folded across his massive chest, and a shit ass smirk on his face, he blocks the entrance to the open bay. Fucking smug eyes bore into mine. Gloating with happiness that I’ve fucked up, and he’s the one to catch me. Even worse when a broken sigh billows behind me. Fucking destroying me that she knows now too. And, neither of us can do a god damn thing to fix my mistake.

Fire

radiates up from my fist to my elbow from cracking this bastard’s jaw. At least I don’t have to listen to his embarrassing begging and lame ass excuses any more. The guys warned him twice to pay up. With interest. He should fucking know by now the Moretti family doesn’t give third chances. I move to his gut. Break a few ribs and rupture his spleen. I should feel guilty. I should feel ashamed. I should feel remorse. But I don’t. Not at all. The son of a bitch is a piece of shit, selling dope to kids and strung out women who often end up paying off their debts with what’s left between their legs. He’s long overdue to get what he deserves. Hell, I’m actually fucking enjoying myself. Taking my frustration out on his sorry ass since I can’t beat myself for my fuck up or fucking Arturo for his vindictiveness. The only regret I feel —that I ever feel —is failing Viviana. I haven’t seen her gorgeous face for seven fucking days, and now I’m falling over the

edge of sanity I barely grasp on to. About ready to implode from not being with her. I’ve never been addicted to anything before. Until now. Until her. I guess this is what fucking withdrawal feels like. I can’t eat. I can’t think. I can’t fucking sleep. When I do drift off all my dreams are nightmares of her. Beaten. Raped. Or worse —fucking dead. I pound his kidneys harder with that thought. Arturo wouldn’t dare kill her. Not with his windfall at stake. But he’s so fucking furious, and she’s so fucking tiny. All it would take is a hard blow to the head or vicious kick to the heart to end her life. Just one impulsive mistake that could steal my princess from me forever. Which that idea is fucking crazy in and of itself. She’s not mine. She’s never been mine. She’s just a rescue job. Once I know she’s safe and sound, then I need to let her go. I should never have let myself fall in love with her in the first place. I’m too old. Too jaded. Too crazy to be of any use to a sweet young woman who deserves a life free of fear and lies. The flopping against my thigh pulls me out of my insanity. Stupid fucker’s finally passed out. I toss him to the fake hardwood covering his trashed office. Streaked with blood, thicker than paint, from his shattered nose. Stinking with the stench of

his vomit from too many punishing punches to the belly. Stretching the tendons in my fingers from balling them for too long, I shrug off Harrison’s celebratory slap on my back. I don’t want praise. I want her. “Come on man. Let’s go. We got one more stop before we’re done for the night.” Great. More of Dante’s chump work. Stupid asshole hates me almost as much as I hate him. Smart enough to know I’m not who I claim to be, even though he can’t prove I’m not just one of Arturo’s mindless henchmen. Following orders without question or complaint. Just waiting for my assignments and weekly paycheck like everyone else. Because of him Viviana’s on lock down. And I’m not. He knows exactly how to punish me. Doesn’t touch a hair on my head or rat me out to Arturo. Instead, he sends me on jobs with orders direct from him. As if he fucking trusts me enough to take care of his personal business. Like I’m his fucking errand boy. Which right now I am. Nothing but a pussy ass bitch at his mercy while she’s at Arturo’s. My stomach rolls again, and I jerk away from the guys lugging this dumb bastard to the street so everyone can get a firsthand and up close look at the punishment doled out to those stupid enough to

cross the Morettis. I’m tired of this shit. His shit. I need some fucking air. Dante’s men can take care of the rest. Jogging down the back hallway and out to the Suburban parked in the alley, I suck in several deep breaths. Gulping in oxygen to try and quell my burning chest. And, of course, failing miserably. Until my phone pings. I jerk the cell out of my pocket. Vibrating in my hand again. Not sure how I fucking missed the messages blowing up my screen. Arturo’s got to jet and wants my ass home. Now. He’s fucking furious thinking I’ve been ignoring him. Like we haven’t been as busy as fuck all night with the long list of people who owe him and his brother. But that’s fine. I’ll take an ass beating just to get back to her. I’m already in the driver’s seat and revving the engine by the time the guys burst through the exit. Harrison head bobs me as he climbs in, and I’m pulling away while he’s still slamming his door shut. Irritation swells in his exaggerated huff as he grasps the grab handle when I round the corner practically on two wheels. “What the fuck?” “Change of plans. Boss wants us back.” He gives an indifferent shrug once he knows of our new orders. Makes no difference to him. This scenario on repeat for him, night after night. He’ll be back out again tomorrow —same shit, different faces. Hopefully, I’ll be back with her. Exactly

where I belong. Somehow I’m fucking lucky enough that Arturo and Dante are already gone when we get to the mansion. Must have been a real fuck up for both of them to have left already. Which is fucking perfect. Less time spent getting my ass chewed and more time being with her. In his absence, his housekeeper waits for me instead. The help doesn’t usually speak directly to each other so the message must be really important for him to assign her this responsibility. A nervous hand pats her chest when her gaze flicks to me before sweeping across the kitchen and to the doorway leading to the stairs. Awkward and tense which makes me feel the same fucking way from her hesitation. “Mr. and Mrs. Moretti have an event tomorrow night so he wants to make sure she’s well enough to attend since she’s been…” Fingertips fiddle with the pearl buttons lining the front of her canary cardigan with her unease. “…you know…sickly.” Translation: he’s fucked Viviana up and needs us to fix her for a public appearance. Because he’s mobster not a monster. Or so he wants everyone to believe. I feign acceptance. Agreement. Approval. Anything and everything to end this conversation. “Yeah, sure. I’ll go get her.” “Not yet.” Disappointment almost as deep as mine floods her voice. Stopping me in my tracks as

I race toward the steps. “He said tomorrow. Take her to mass and everything. Like normal.” Unable to stifle the bitter laugh burning my throat as I toss my head back. Staring at the crisscross design in the metal ceiling tiles. Nothing’s fucking normal about him or any of this. So fucking close. Now I have to wait eight more hours. Because even if I lie to Mrs. Wilson, pretending conformity to his order, outsmart the other guards, navigate around the scrutiny of the cameras, and reach Viviana without getting caught, she would refuse to let me in. Always so fucking obedient to follow Arturo’s rules. Which angers me more than I can stand. But I can’t blame her for her loyalty. She doesn’t know enough to be any other way. The brainwashing started young, and no one has proven to her otherwise that her allegiance will get her killed. Maimed and mistreated but not dead. “Good night Mr. Bartell. I’ll see you in the morning.” Uncertain if she’s dismissing me or herself. Doesn’t matter. Neither of us can do anything until then. Fuck. I spin around and trod toward the other stairwell. It’s going to be a long fucking night, and I need something to take my anger out on. “Good night Mrs. Wilson.”

At five thirty, I yank off my gloves and toss them onto the mat. Finally wiping my forehead of the sweat dripping into my burning eyes for the last seven and a half hours. I’m simultaneously exhausted and strung out. Lack of sleep and the physical exertion filled my time, but not my mind. Churning back and forth in time with my punches. Wondering what she’ll say. What she’ll do. What she’ll need when I finally see her. I strip down and jump into the third shower stall of the small locker room. Scrubbing my body with a furor and speed I can’t contain. Even my greedy cock too tense to harden over her. Fuck the cameras. At six a.m. on the dot, I’m rapping on her door. “It’s me Mrs. Moretti. I’m coming in.” Unwilling to wait for her response, I shove the door open. Relief washes through me. She sits on the bed. Dressed and smiling. Not a single scratch visible. Doesn’t mean she’s not covered in belt marks or bruises under her clothes, but still a good sign he refrained from pounding her face or arms. I’m a fucking happy bastard until I step closer. She sways even as she sits. The normal light in her eyes dim. Dull as the dark circles underneath. Pale skin, chapped lips, and gaunt cheeks. The

realization hits me harder than a fucking wrecking ball to the gut. She never left this room and no one came in or out except for Arturo. Fuck me. He didn’t hit her. He starved her. All fucking week. Every single fucking day. And she still fucking grins at me. Probably fucking hysteria at this point. Jesus Christ. I force a smile on my face and a softness to my tone while I crouch in front of her. “Hey Viviana. How are you feeling?” “Good. Thank you.” I can barely hear her raspy voice. Still so fucking polite when she really should be fucking losing her shit. For her, I keep my own fury in check and somehow manage restraint. She doesn’t need my anger. Just my help. “I haven’t eaten yet, so let’s grab some breakfast before we head out.” She nods, accepting my outstretched hand. Only to have her knees buckle when we rise together. I catch her before she tumbles and hold her against my chest. Sealing my death sentence if anyone sees me. But there’s no way in hell I’ll let her hit the ground. How the fuck did she even get dressed or stay upright until I got here? “Slow down princess. I’ll get you there, I promise.” Her sweet head nods against my jacket. Frail fingers clutch my lapel. She actually fucking sobs. The first time I’ve ever heard her cry. Or seen Arturo’s cruelty get to her. I force myself to believe she’s emotional with relief that I’m here so I can

focus on taking care of her rather than freaking the fuck out. “I’ve got you, angel.” I dig deep and search for the rare composure I might possess. Attempting to soothe her with my voice and my touch. Cuddling her tight. Stroking her hair. Whispering against the top of her head how fucking sorry I am that I let this happen to her. That I swear to god I’ll make everything better. She told me once that it’s a fucking sin or some other fucked up shit to eat before you go to mass. But that stupid shit’s not happening today. “We might be a few minutes late, but we’re going to get you something too before we go.” An emotion I can’t make out flashes in her dark eyes. Surprise maybe from my order. Or that I care enough to make demands. Definitely not defiance. Of which I’m so fucking glad. She can’t go much longer without food. No words pass between us as I guide her down the stairs and sit her in one of the high back chairs. Immature but I pick the seat farthest from Arturo’s usual spot. Mrs. Wilson scurries to the table. Worry lining her face too. Rather than just the usual oatmeal and cantaloupe slice, the housekeeper slides a platter of eggs and bacon across the table too. Before she jerks her hand back in fear from giving Viviana food her boss didn’t approve of. I guess her sympathy makes her brave. And Viviana grateful.

“Thank you, Mrs. Wilson.” “You’re welcome ma’am.” Her eyes shiny as she swipes a slice and shoves the strip to her parted lips. Round breasts tipping into her bowl as she leans forward in her eagerness to get the meat to her mouth. “I know you’re hungry Princess, but take small, slow bites or it’ll all come back up.” “Okay.” The housekeeper may rule her kitchen, but she doesn’t utter a word of protest when I grab the milk out of the fridge and pour Viviana a tall glass. An easy way to get nutrients into her that won’t upset her stomach. With a shaking hand, she accepts the cup. Fingers trembling so hard the white liquid splashes over the top. Droplets running down the back of her wrist as she brings the cup to her lips. Taking small sips of the drink just like I told her. “Good girl.” Her gaze meets mine, seeking reassurance. “We’ve got plenty of time. Just eat.” A few bites of oatmeal. All of the omelet. None of the melon. Color finally hints in her cheeks, and her body stops shivering. I focus on her calorie count to keep from exploding. This already petite woman was starved for a whole fucking week for just looking at a god damn building. By a motherfucking bastard who

practically shits gold and refused to even give her a bite of cereal or a drink of juice. This shit ends now. I’ve got enough intel to construct the team and pull the trigger. Literally, because I swear to god, even if it fucking kills me, tonight will be her last night in this hellhole.

Harrison

and I stand at attention once Nelson’s voice rattles through our ear pieces. They’re back from the charity gala where Arturo could fool the other rich bastards in this city that he actually has an ounce of care and concern for the neglected children of our community. Happiness warms my chest like a pussy. She’s home, and tonight’s her last night with this motherfucker. The final time she has to suffer his merciless hands on her body. His spiteful words in her ears. His brutal punishments for imagined crimes. After his late night, Arturo won’t go to Sunday mass with her in the morning. With them separated, one half of my team will create a distraction at his biggest warehouse while the rest of my guys will help me grab her from the church. Arturo will be so fucking absorbed with the search warrants and FBI agents’ scrutiny he won’t be thinking about her for hours. Plenty of time for me to get her hundreds of miles away from him. So amazingly perfect, my

plan falling into place so fucking easily, I’m almost fucking giddy. The SUV pulls in slowly and stops a few feet in front of us. The other guard and I split sides to open their doors as well as confirm to Arturo all is well. Men placed along the route from the gate to the interior door provide the crime lord with assurance that no coup attempts occurred in his absence. I yank the handle, and Arturo slides out first as always. Except this time absolute rage rather than a drunken slack reddens his round face. Fury stiffening his huge body jerking with anger as he spins around and heaves her out. By her hair. I cannot even fucking breathe with the fire exploding through me. Motherfucker. Harrison stands stoic and stationary. Forcing me to do the same. Unable to intervene when she yelps from the backhand across the face. Powerless to keep him from slamming her frail body against the side of the SUV. Incapable to stop his hands from circling her throat and throttling her so hard her tiny feet lift off the ground from the force of his fingers gouging her delicate neck. While her scream fades to nothing but struggling gasps. “Why are you such a fucking embarrassment?” Finally he tosses her to the concrete. Heaving and screaming profanities at her while she wheezes for oxygen. He rears back, ready to dole out his

favorite punishment to her. Damn it. I have to fucking stop him. “The baby!” Arturo’s head whips toward me. Savagery blazing in his wild eyes while they bore into mine. “What the fuck did you say?” Fuck! I have fucked up so fucking bad. But I have no choice. “What if she’s pregnant?” Sanity finally returns to his crazed mind, and he drops his huge foot back on the ground. But the danger isn’t quite passed yet. His enormous body still ticks with ire. I keep my tone even. “With your son…or daughter? Your heir?” Conflicting emotions battle on his face. Questions spin in his expression, glancing from me to her and back again. None of them good. For either of us. The usual arrogance returns, and he rises tall. Smoothing down his tuxedo jacket as if disgusted with the thought of being disheveled by his actions. By stooping to the crass level of violence reserved for one of his hired henchmen. Stepping over her like she’s garbage spilled on the street, he strides past me. “Clean that shit up.” Think. Think. Think. I’ve got to protect her without raising any more suspicion. “Sure. I’ll put her in one of the guest rooms so she won’t disturb you.” He never even looks back. Just waves his hand

in irritated impatience. “Fine. Whatever.” Too easy. Too quick. We’ll pay for his feigned indifference later. But I can’t worry about that now. When all I can see is her unconscious body. Her shallow breathing. Her bruised face. Damn it. Nothing I can do but scoop her up as gingerly as I can. Although my carefulness doesn’t really matter. She’s out cold. Unaware that I’ve got her. That she’s safe. That she’s loved. Harrison watches. Mute and motionless with uncertainty. His gaze darting between me and her and the chauffeur who finally exits the vehicle. His suspicions piqued too. All of us fucking bastards for not doing more. For not stopping him. For not saving her. Uneasy silence fills the house as I carry her to the bedroom closest to the gym. As far away from Arturo as I can sequester her. Not like he can’t find her. But I’ll ensure he has to actually work to locate her. Make seeing her as inconvenient as possible. Maybe not worth his effort. At least that’s what I tell myself. Her pitiful moan when I lay her on the bed pricks my previously dead heart. That she’s somehow brought back to life. “It’s okay princess. I’m here.” Not sure if she gives a damn I’m here or not. But, according to her, I’m her friend. The only friend she’s got so I’m better than nothing I guess.

After slipping off her glittery heels, I assess her ravished body. So breathtakingly beautiful earlier, radiating with her eagerness to help kids in need. To escape this house. To have an evening of fun. All ruined once again by that motherfucker. Deep scratches nick her arms and what I can see of her legs, not hidden under her burgundy cocktail dress. Which looks totally uncomfortable fitted around her torso and decorated with thousands of tiny rhinestones. I don’t dare take the long gown off of her. Moretti would have his men kill me in a heartbeat for seeing his wife naked, and I refuse to risk her enduring anymore of his wrath tonight. Limited with what I can do, I brush away the haphazard strands of hair clinging to her narrow shoulders that bastard ripped out of her head. Some of the agony lining her face releases when I press a cool wet washcloth against the burgeoning red and purple abrasions on her swollen throat. “I’m glad that feels good.” The respite is short-lived when she fights against the blankets I drape across her. Thrashing and moaning as she struggles against the covers. Fuck! I know she can’t be hot from her relentless trembling. I yank down the satiny edge, and her quivering wrist grazes against my knuckles. Instantly pausing in her battle with the sheet when her skin skims mine. Almost as if in relief to find me. I grasp her delicate fingers, entwining them as I

lay our coupled hands against the mattress. I may not be able to comprehend the words she mumbles but her request is crystal clear. She needs me. My touch. My comfort. My protection. I’m sure as hell going to give everything I have to her. “Shhh. Don’t worry, angel. I’m not going anywhere.” Fuck me if tears don’t sneak out from under her clenched lids and trail down her temples until her breathing finally evens out. Grateful sleep claims her despite the pain she endures. With my free hand, I tuck the comforter tight around her again and settle in for the night. Shaking myself with soft laughter that she can’t hear but hopefully can sense. I’m too damn old to pull another all-nighter but I swear to her nothing and no one will stop me from keeping vigil over her. Because everything has changed. Funny how with just one touch, one simple wordless plea, she annihilates the lie I tried my damnedest to tell myself was true. But that bullshit conviction no longer exists. The truth I never could admit was real. Until now. Until she reached for me, and now I’m never fucking letting her go. This is no longer just a job. She. Is. Mine. I don’t care that she’s married. Or pays a debt she doesn’t owe. Or maybe doesn’t want anything more from me than friendship. None of that

matters. Viviana is mine.

After a few drowsy blinks, her gorgeous cocoa eyes meet mine. The right one almost too fucking swollen to completely open but of course my princess fights against the hindrance. A slight smile lifts her puffy cheeks once she realizes I’m with her. As happy to see me here as I am to see her awake. Fuck me if I’m not a pussy. “Hi there.” A difficult swallow strains her battered throat before her lips part. “Good morning.” “Not quite yet. It’s only four.” The grin fades from the realization of the time, unware in her damaged state I’ve been keeping guard over her all night. “Sorry.” “No worries. I was already up.” I stroke her tangled hair. The fancy twist destroyed from that bastard’s assault. “How are you feeling?” “Back…hurts.” Yeah, getting slammed into hard metal will do that to you. “Let’s roll you onto your side, okay?” Only a slight nod. Exhaustion already settling in from our brief conversation. Caressing her shoulder to make sure she’s not too tender to move. She doesn’t flinch, so I nudge her forward until she

rests on her hip. Must not hurt too much as she’s already out again. For the best. She can enjoy the tranquility now before all hell breaks loose. Because once I go upstairs and get cell reception again, I’ll contact my guys to implement plan B. I grab my gun from my waistband at the tentative tap on the door. Too soft to be fucking Arturo, but I don’t like fucking surprises. Unlatching the lock, which I know wouldn’t keep him out but would at least slow him down, I jerk open the door. Relief loosens my taut muscles from Mrs. Wilson waiting on the other side. Not that I’d hesitate for a fucking second to take on Moretti, but I don’t want Viviana in the middle of a bloodbath. Scarlet circles dot the housekeeper’s cheeks while she studies the cream carpet. “Mr. Harrison said you might need my help.” She holds up a small stack of clothes clutched in one hand and a basket of small pink and purple bottles in the other. “That she’s…unwell again.” Not her fault, but the implication still pisses me off. The way she tiptoes around the fact that Arturo beats his wife and everyone else cleans up the mess. As if that resolves the problem. I blow out a deep breath to keep from berating her. “Yeah, sure. That would be great.” She follows me inside, and I cringe from the shocked gasp behind me. Yep, that’s what fucking

‘unwell’ looks like. “She’s half out of it, so I don’t think she’ll feel the pain of us moving her.” A wobbly nod as she dabs at the tears in her eyes and holds back her sob with a cupped hand over her mouth. My fury softens a bit. The woman cares about her too, but is as helpless as Viviana is to do anything about the situation either. I slide off the white covers and scoop her up. Pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead once her head rests on my chest. Mrs. Wilson’s disdain be damned. I won’t allow Viviana to think anyone else holds her but me. The guest bath isn’t overly big, and we have to maneuver cautiously to undress her. I gingerly flip her over and curl her on my shoulder, allowing Mrs. Wilson to unzip her dress, and then lift her torso a few inches so she can slide the sequined fabric out from underneath Viviana’s stomach. When the housekeeper shimmies off Viviana’s panties, I glue my gaze on the fucking faucet and stroke her back. Fury stabs my heart sharper than a blade from the feel of her delicate bones under my hand as I caress her silky skin while Mrs. Wilson fills the tub. Thanks to that motherfucking asshole my princess is too fucking thin and scrawny. I can’t fucking wait to spoil her with treats and fatten her up. “Okay, I’m ready for her.” My eyes remain locked on Viviana’s gorgeous

face. Only groaning and frowning for a second once I flip her back over and slide her into the tub. Thank fucking god for the bubbles concealing her body while the older woman bathes her. Wiping away the gravel and dried blood crusted on the scrapes. The smudges of grease and oil from him hurling her onto the fucking garage floor. The mascara smeared across her cheeks from the tears he caused her to shed once again. Bastard. I stand guard with my back to them. Close enough to grab her if she slips under the water but far enough not to be inappropriate. Mrs. Wilson doesn’t seem to notice my rage. Her focus lasers completely on gently tugging the knots from Viviana’s long strands while the tub empties. Gurgles fill the steamy air from the last droplets bubbling in the drain, and I’m getting impatient for the housekeeper to finish up. Viviana can’t get cold. “She’s done.” Fucking finally. Luckily, Mrs. Wilson drapes a towel around her small frame, obscuring my view of her persecuted wet body. Perfect. Bundling her up, I lift her easily and carry her to the bed. Caressing her cheek when she moans, tensing under the terrycloth. “I’m still here angel.” I resume my guarding stance near the door to keep from catching any glances of her while she’s dried off and dressed. After a few minutes, I play

nurse to Mrs. Wilson’s doctor while she applies ointment to some of Viviana’s scrapes and lays a cold compress on her black eye. Frustration must swell in the woman too the way she stares at Viviana, slowly shaking her head. Both of us powerless to do anything else to help her until she wakes up again. Then we can at least feed her if she’s able to keep something down. Once we’re alone again, I take Viviana’s small hand in mine and chuckle. Pondering where in the fuck this nurturing behavior came from. I’ve never taken care of anyone in my life. Never thought I’d want to. Now the only thing I want to do is soothe her and ease all of her agony. About two hours later she stirs again. Her internal alarm clock going off despite her injuries. No church this morning despite how much she might try to argue with me about going. Another weak smile brightens her pitiful face despite her closed eyes. “Still morning?” Genuine laughter fills my chest. Her sense of humor provides proof she’s with me more than last time she woke up. “Yeah, princess it’s about six o’clock.” Fuck me if she doesn’t struggle to try and sit up. I swear she’s fucking stubborn as hell. “Hold on. Let me help you.” I pile up some pillows and glide her to a sitting position. Seemingly

much more comfortable in her tee shirt and leggings. “How’s that?” “Perfect.” Yeah, you are angel. She studies my face with her good eye. Maybe convincing herself I’m here. But she doesn’t have to worry. I’m not leaving her again unless that motherfucker kills me. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” I grab one of the water bottles on the nightstand and uncap the lid, holding the rim close to her mouth. “Drink.” She leans forward of her own accord. Damn it. I didn’t realize how thirsty she was. After four long sips, she purses her lips together. “Better.” “Your breakfast will be here soon. No church today.” Guilt furrows her eyebrows, but she doesn’t fight against my declaration. Instead, she rubs across the quilt hem. Her fingertips grazing mine. Fuck me if she doesn’t spark an inferno inside me from just a ghost of her touch. I scoot closer and relish her sharp intake of breath. Thrilled that I affect her as much as she affects me. Although surprised as hell she doesn’t hate me for not stopping Arturo sooner. Despite how much I despise myself. “This is it Viviana. I won’t ever let him touch you again.” We’ve avoided speaking directly about the torture during the three months I’ve worked here.

An unspoken agreement between us —I attempt to make things a bit more tolerable for her while she bears the burden of willing victim to Arturo’s irrational outbursts. But that’s not enough. Not anymore. Nor for either of us. “You know I appreciate all that you do for us. I–“ Absurd jealousy races through me, and I clutch her hand. Forgetting my own strength until I see her flinch from my possessive grasp. I loosen my grip but refuse to let her go. Fucking dangerous with the door standing wide open. I don’t give a damn. “No more you and him. That ‘us’ is you and me.” “No, Roan.” Her gaze remains on our tangled fingers. A striking contrast of pink and tan. Soft and calloused. Dainty and thick. As different and perfect as we are together. “Our friendship means more to me that you’ll ever know, and I–“ “Stop resisting me.” I’m nothing but an asshole to keep interrupting her. I can’t listen to her try and deny what we have. Maybe she doesn’t love me yet, but I sure as hell know she doesn’t love him. And I’m just as damn sure I know I’ll treat her so much fucking better. The way she should have been handled and always will be from now on. “You’re leaving him.” Long hair whips around her hunched shoulders

as she shakes her head. “You don’t understand. I have obligations. I promised my father I’d make this marriage work, and I refuse to let him down. I can’t walk away regardless of what happens. My own feelings don’t matter.” Rage boils in my veins from her erroneous proclamation, and I bury my instinct to scream at the absurdity of her sacrifice. I cup her chin and force her to look at me. “No one —and I mean fucking no one —matters more than you.” She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to. It’s obvious she doesn’t agree. God damn it. Hiding in the basement and sitting on her recovery bed isn’t how I wanted to tell her. But she needs to know the truth to help me get her out of here. Battling Arturo will be difficult enough. I can’t fight her too. “I know about the agreement. That’s why your dad hired me.” Her small body jolts with shock, and she twists out of my grip on her sweet face. “My father’s dead. He died when I was twelve.” She’s angry. Good. I love seeing some fucking fire in her. Even if she’s challenging the wrong enemy. Opposing the wrong war. “I know he did. Right after he promised you to Arturo when you turned eighteen for a debt he owed.” Outrage heats her face. Blazing red from her neck to her cheeks with indignation. She thinks I’m lying. Fuck. So much to overcome. “It’s not a debt.

They created a partnership to strengthen our families.” “No princess. Bernardo fucked up and owed way more money to Arturo than he could ever repay. So he gave you as his payment instead.” She jerks her hand from mine. Fucking killing me for her to recoil from my touch. Which I will allow her withdrawal from me for now. While she processes the confession I make to her. In the future, I’ll never let her hide from me. I’ll never let her fear me. “That’s not true. My father wouldn’t do that.” Humiliation cracks in her voice, breaking my heart for her. To realize the one person she loved, the one man she trusted, used her. Never earned the faith she so deeply placed within him. Never deserved the sacrifices she makes for him. “He loved you but he was stuck. Otherwise, Arturo would kill him and take you anyway. He thought he had six years to figure something else out. He hired me to protect you if he failed. But he never got the chance either way to save you.” “Because of his heart attack.” Hesitant acceptance creeps into her tone. But unlucky me I get to sting her once again with the bitter reality of the situation. “Because Arturo killed him. It wasn’t a heart attack angel. Arturo just made it look that way. He wanted a guarantee so he could get you and the money.”

“What money? You said my father was in debt.” Confusion swirls in her expression. Probably thinking I’m talking in circles. Too much information to absorb after years of believing an illusion. At least I haven’t broken her completely. Not yet anyway. “Your grandfather created a trust fund–“ An exaggerated cough rattles behind me. Interfering with the rest of the hellish details she’s going to discover. I twist around but don’t stand up. This conversation isn’t finished. Harrison. He’s not alone. Three men stand behind him. The trio’s hard expressions boring into me. All of them buzzing with intent, except for Harrison. The closest thing I’ve had to a friend since I’ve been here, he pulses with regret. “Arturo wants Mrs. Moretti. Now.” Motherfucker. Where the fuck has that son of a bitch been all this time? Doesn’t give a damn about her all night and now wants her at his beck and call again. “Fine. I’ll bring her.” “No, I’m supposed to get her.” My shirt pulls taut against my chest from her fingers fisting the fabric behind me. Terrified because no one’s ever touched her but me. And Arturo. “Just let me do it. She can’t even fucking

walk.” Arturo’s callous laugh sounds from the hallway, and his meat head whipping boys part like a fucking curtain for him to step forward. “She doesn’t have to walk. She just has to lay back and spread her legs for me like always.” The crude remark earns a sob from her and chuckles from his other men. Well, now we’re at god damn fucking impasse because I’ll fucking die before he touches her. Let alone fucks her. He smirks although a wrought tension pulsates underneath his expression. Neither of us willing to halt the showdown I somehow always knew would happen. Rising slowly from the mattress, I smile too. A pretense of conciliatory attitude as I chin lift him. Bestowing the deference he demands yet doesn’t anticipate. Zero fear darkens his face. No need to be afraid when his armed men surround him. I’m not fool enough to think I can take them all, but I am crazy enough to cause as much damage as I can before this ends. “I think Mrs. Wilson is preparing her breakfast. Can’t you at least let Viviana eat first?” My request stuns him, his head jerking back in surprise. Not at all what he was expecting me to say. Feels like a lifetime passes while he studies me. Trying to figure out if I’m playing some kind of game, or I’m just that fucking stupid. Finally he

laughs. A snicker at first before the chortle turns into a full on obnoxious cackle. That’s right, fat bastard, enjoy yourself while you can. His head tips back in repugnant amusement, and the millisecond his eyes drift shut, I bolt. Slamming the door shut and swiping the lock. I’ll only get about ten seconds before they’ll bust through the heavy wood, but that’s plenty of time to kill his sorry ass. Everything fades around me, and I’m coursing with adrenaline. All I hear is my own erratic breathing. All I see is his stupid ugly face. All I feel is relief he’ll never hurt her again. Frozen with disbelief, he doesn’t move. Just watches me fly toward him. Never expecting to have to defend himself when his paid goons are supposed to protect him at all costs. A single punch to the jaw crumples the dumb ass to the floor. Viviana’s scream echoes from somewhere nearby but I keep racing like a fucking mad man. Now the force of my boot punishes him. I stomp down on his dick, grinding side to side as his cock shoves into his rotund belly, and his scream of pure anguish is the best fucking sound I’ve ever fucking heard. Only one millionth of the agony he’s caused her but still absolutely glorious in his suffering. His own adrenaline kicks in, and somehow he manages to roll onto his side under the weight of my foot, protecting his already mutilated body.

I drop down next to him and shove my hands around his flapping jowls. “Enjoy hell motherfucker.” Not sure if he’s even conscious when I twist his neck and snap his spine. Finally dead. But I don’t take time to celebrate his passing. I hop up and jet over to her just as the crack of the ripping hinges shrieks behind us. Tangled in the bedspread, she’s balled into herself, sobbing so hard I can’t comprehend her words. “Come on princess. It’s time to go.” “What the fuck Bartell?” I ignore Harrison’s furious voice bellowing behind me, bending to scoop her up. But I don’t get the chance to hold her before I’m yanked backward. Pummeling anything at the end of my fists as I’m tackled. Carpet burns my back as my polo rides up from being dragged away. Fingertips rip my skin from the force of their hold. Five or six guys are on me but I can’t stop fighting. Straining and kicking and punching. Not giving a damn about the threats of Dante’s wrath or what he’s going to do to my crazy ass for killing Arturo. “Roan?” Her sweet voice sweeps through my consciousness. The last thing I hear before a blinding light explodes inside my head and everything turns to black.

My

head throbs as hard as the metal vibrating under my cheek. Cold and rigid against my burning skin. Silence except for the soft hum of an engine. Confirming I’m on the move. To where and with whom I have no fucking clue. Might as well find out now instead of waiting to be unpleasantly informed. Fighting the fog clouding my mind, I force my eyes open. Not waking up but fucking coming to. Through a blurry haze, I strain to make sense of my surroundings. Scuffs and dings mar the dingy white walls. The ceiling reflects the same neglect. With groggy, fumbling hands, I shove up to a sitting position. Surprised as hell to be in the old cargo van the guys use to haul shit. Including bodies. Even more shocked I’m not tied up. Harrison occupies the driver’s seat. Not sure if he thinks I’m dead, or he’s getting ready to kill me. Either way I have to know before I die. “Viviana?” My voice sounds as strained and weak as I feel.

Echoing oddly in the otherwise empty space. Or maybe it’s just the wooziness of my brain that makes my words sound like fucking ringing in a huge cave. His knowing laugh answers me back. What the fuck does he think is so god damn funny about the woman I love? “I knew that would be the first fucking thing you said when you woke up.” “Don’t fuck with me. Where–“ “She’s fine. The guys got Mrs. Wilson down there again, and she made them take Mrs. Moretti to the hospital.” Where she should have been so fucking long ago. Thank fucking god. “Dante’s on his way back, and he’s already calling the shots from the jet. Including putting a hit out on you.” Yeah, I thought so. Fuck. I don’t want to hurt Harrison, but I’ll do whatever I have to do to get back to Viviana. Even if he has to be the one to die. “But I’m not going to kill you.” Rarely am I shocked any more, but he definitely surprises me this time with a reprieve I don’t expect. He couldn’t take me out anyway unless I was unconscious. We both know that truth. Although my body wanes with the knowledge I don’t have an imminent battle waiting for me. “Why not?”

He glances back at me, long enough for me to see his eye roll and disgusted expression. “You’re welcome.” Whatever. “Just fucking tell me. Why are you letting me live?” Like a fucking toddler first learning to walk, I struggle to my feet and stumble hunched over to the passenger seat. Falling rather than sliding onto the cushion. The bodyguard glances my way again, yet this time his face reveals remorse instead of defiance. “The first time I met Viviana was the same night she met Arturo for the first time —at their wedding rehearsal. You could tell she was fucking terrified. But she always smiled. Stayed glued to his side as he led her around the restaurant and went through all the introductions. When the dinner wound down and people started leaving, Arturo ended up in the bar.” His head shakes tighter than his stubby fingers clenching the steering wheel. “Drinking bourbon, smoking cigars, playing cards. Left her all alone at their table. She waited there for five fucking hours. Never said a damn thing. Just sat with her hands folded in her lap and kept her eyes down.” My fist balls against my thigh. An involuntary response I can’t control. What a god damn fucking bastard. I fucking hate the thought of her scared and then fucking lonely because that son of a bitch

never cared enough about her or her feelings to make sure she was comfortable. “When he finally came back, he stood there in the doorway like the asshole he is and snapped his fingers at her. Any other woman probably would have flipped him off and hightailed it in the other direction. But not Viviana. She stood up straight and tall like a fucking queen or something and walked over to him. Wrapped her hand around his arm like he was a hero rather than an arrogant s.o.b. Neither of them said a word the entire time I followed them from the dining room to the SUV.” Pride pounds in my chest despite my fury. That’s my princess. Unwilling to let Arturo degrade her despite how much he tries. We turn off the highway onto a gravel road. But Harrison’s not slow or cautious. Flying over the rocks and ruts. Bouncing our asses like rubber balls. Deep in thought about the memory he shares. The disgust he feels matching mine. “I don’t know why she showed up the next day. Guess she didn’t really have any choice. Arturo seemed in a good mood, but still managed to slap the hell out of her in the limo on the way to the reception. I mean who the fuck smacks his wife, let alone on their wedding day. I knew then her life would be hell, but I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.” God damn motherfucking Moretti. Didn’t even

make it to the fucking honeymoon before the torment started. Remorse floods Harrison’s tone. His own guilt eats at him more than anything I could ever say regardless of how much I want to. “I mean I had my own wife and two kids, with another one on the way. I couldn’t fuck up their lives to help her, even if I could have. That’s why I was glad when you showed up. It seemed like you could save her.” I know what he implies. What he really asks me. Might as well level with him since we’re being honest. “I’m not a cop.” “Maybe not. But you’re not just hired muscle like the rest of us either.” The rocky path thins out, dissipating to a few stones blended among the overgrown brush. He doesn’t seem to notice. Just drives through the long grass. Winter dead blades bending easily from the weight of our load. “I don’t know, and I really don’t want to know.” “Fair enough.” Finally he slows, rolling to a stop and jerking the gear shift into park. Both of our gazes remain forward, on the wooded acres in front of us. Thick trees crowd the horizon. Populating the landscape as far as we can see on both sides. With only narrow beams of sunlight breaking through the heavy canopy. “Just go. I’ll tell them it’s done, and I buried you out here like regular. If you never come back, no one will ever know the difference.”

If only it was that easy. I don’t need an escape. I need her. “I can’t. I have to get Viviana.” “Fuck Bartell.” I ignore his reprimand as well as the side of his fist slamming down on the dash board. The calm demeanor instantly replaced with an irritation I can’t fault him for. But he doesn’t love her like I do. “You’re going to get us all killed. You’re going to get yourself fucking killed.” The words drag out. Clear and precise, without any ambiguity. To ensure I hear. To confirm I understand. But I do. Completely. More than he understands. “It wouldn’t be living without her. Not when she’s with Dante.” And not with me. I don’t voice that thought to keep from sounding any more like a pussy ass bitch than I already do. His lips curl and bulge out with a huge sigh. He knows just as much as I do how disgusting Arturo’s brother is. “Fuck.” Regret pounds in his voice. Disappointment lingers between us. Both of us well aware of the reality of our situation. “I can’t help you.” Although I’m used to working alone, a little assistance from the inside would’ve been nice. Either way his opposition to my goal doesn’t change anything. I’m coming for her no matter what. “I know.” “But I won’t stand in your way either. If you make it, I’ll do everything I can to get her to you.”

I nod. Saying thanks seems stupid. He’s not really doing anything. Letting me live I guess. But now we both know I have to beat his ass. Make it appear he put up a struggle, and I overpowered him. “Tell them you shot me and I probably didn’t make it far. That I–“ “Yeah, yeah. I know what to do. Just shut the fuck up and get it over with.” I don’t say sorry either. We both already are. But for some reason it feels right that we each get some physical punishment. Endure a bit of the penance we deserve for not helping her earlier. Mute as we climb out of the vehicle. Nothing left to say. Harrison stands rod straight and doesn’t flinch when I draw back my fist. Or utter a word after I punch him in the temple. Incapable of speaking when he’s knocked out cold. Unaware I have the capacity to take him down with just one hit. But the blow’s powerful enough to ensure my getaway after I lug his limp body over to the van and shove him in the back. Ironic for him to be laid out just like I was just a few minutes ago. My own head feels like shit as I start jogging toward the interstate. Nausea crawls up my throat, and I have to slow to a walk like a fucking pansy ass. Fucking concussion. At least the weather cooperates. No chance in hell I’ll fall asleep when I’m fucking freezing in just a thin shirt and jeans. The hike will take me hours at this rate. Which is

probably for the best. Gives me plenty of time for me to come up with a new plan.

My fingertips drum on the gear shift. Still impatient and edgy after all this time. I’ve staked out the church for thirty-three long ass fucking days. Waiting. Watching. Wondering. If she’s ever going to come back. If Dante murdered her. If the torture I plan for him would ever be enough to exact revenge on her behalf. When I know good and well it wouldn’t. The only information I’ve gotten from my limited sources is Viviana hasn’t left the house since she came home from the hospital. Which was her opportunity to escape from that life. Flee from her merciless prison as well as her ruthless brotherin-law. Yet somehow, some reason she didn’t. No one appreciates loyalty more than me, but damn I can’t understand why she continues to stay when any obligation, however mistaken her allegiance

was, perished along with Arturo. Unless Dante won’t allow her to leave. Motherfucker probably holds her prisoner just like his fucking brother. Damn it. The anxiety in my chest explodes into an inferno when a huge SUV pulls up. Not the sleek black BMW x6 I used to drive her in but an enormous, silver Lexus LX. Fucking Dante’s brand of choice. I usually fucking love being right. But not this time. Not when that stupid bastard controls her now. Or fucking thinks he does. If she really is in the back, then she’s mine. My heart races like I’ve run a fucking marathon. A beast in a suit climbs out. Relaxed and confident, with a quick, haphazard glance around for any threats. Dumb ass doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. Which would normally piss me off when the asshole is supposed to be guarding my princess. Although his carelessness is fucking perfect this morning. That much easier for me to end him and grab her. With a leisurely pace, he strides to the back. Not hurrying as if the boss sits inside when he yanks the handle. Rather someone he must take care of. I’m straining in my seat like that would actually make me see her sooner. But I can’t help it. Please fucking god be her. He reaches in to assist whoever sits inside. A small hand grasps his, and I yell like a fucking

pussy. Thin delicate fingers. Huge diamond ring. Sheer purple sleeve. Viviana. Fuck yes. Slow and precarious but she climbs out of her own accord. Allowing him to guide her inside. She limps. And hides. Under an oldfashioned broad rimed hat pulled low to cover part of her face. Can’t let anyone see the bruises. Fury coils in my belly. Better not be fucking new injuries. As soon as they step inside the narthex, I fly out of my stolen Taurus and sprint to the side door. Jimmied on day one of my surveillance to guarantee access when I was ready. After more than a fucking month without her, I’m beyond ready. No one walks the corridor, and I hustle to the back of the church unimpeded. Ducking inside the sacristy, where right on time, at six fifty-five, the priest hangs a long green stole from his neck. The heavy cloth reaches almost to his knees. Wide blue eyes meet mine when he looks up from straightening the hems. A hint of confusion before his expression softens. The deep lines worrying his forehead relax below his wispy white hair. Lots of assumptions being made from my presence. All of them wrong.

“Confessions begin in five minutes. I’ll meet you at the confessional, right through there.” He points to the open door leading toward the altar. “Unless there’s something else you need?” “I need to help Viviana Moretti.” A severe bob of his Adam’s apple accompanies his huge swallow. Even a man of the cloth smart enough to be fearful of the family. “I…I’m not sure I understand.” Of course he understands. No one fucks with the new crime boss. “She’s coming in for mass, and she needs to leave with me. Otherwise Dante will kill her.” His head shakes. Brusque and incredulous. Disbelief curling down his thin pale lips. “Surely you don’t mean–“ There is absolutely zero time to hold this guy’s hand. “Yes, I do fucking mean it. I won’t let her die. Help me or don’t. It’s your choice.” Elderly but not feeble, he steps back with shuffling feet. Retreating from my menacing tone and unspoken threat as I corner him in this small room. The pungent scent of freshly struck matches lingering in the stagnant air. As distinct as the tension stiffening his body. The fight or flight response looming in his strained muscles. I could easily defeat him, but I don’t want to hurt him. Cooperation would be so much better for both of us.

“I’ve known Viviana since she was a child. I care about her.” “Me too.” I keep my tone agreeable and gesture to the chair. He seems to understand, shuffling over and slowly sliding down to the yellow cushion. Never taking his eyes off me. Only flinching when I tug the scarf from his neck and yank his hands behind the wide spindled back. Awkward but not painful. I quickly bind his bony wrists together. Ensuring his safety. No one can blame him for a kidnapping when he’s been assaulted himself. “I promise I won’t ever let anything happen to her.” Doubt frowns his long face. Not that I can blame him. Difficult to believe the assertions of a man tying you up and admitting to plotting the abduction of a mobster’s widow. I jet through the doorway he pointed to earlier and duck inside the confessional. Barely catching a glimpse of Viviana and her bodyguard striding together down the side aisle. The echo of her black heels tapping on the beige tile between pumps of the organ. My pulse quickens almost more than I can tolerate to be so close. To see her exquisite face and smell her delicate perfume. God, she’s so fucking beautiful. Dropping down onto the dark wooden bench, I slide the sheer green curtain across the brass rod. Anxious for my princess. She barely closes the door

behind her before she falls to her knees. Trembling fingers folded in a punishing grip as her head bows. Gorgeous cocoa eyes clenched shut. “Viviana–“ “Forgive me father for I have sinned.” She doesn’t react to my whisper. Doesn’t wait for me to finish. Doesn’t pause to listen for the words the priest usually recites. Just launches in to admit some unnecessary guilt weighing on her. “It’s been…too long since my last confession, and I’m struggling so much. I don’t mean to be weak in my faith. I know it’s wrong to question God’s plan but I miss him. I miss him so much, and I don’t understand why he was taken from me. I just…” The break in her voice breaks me. But I’m too fucking selfish to stop her. I can’t find the words to prevent her needless confession. I have to hear what she deems so terrible. Desperate to know who she misses. “I don’t know how I can go on without him.” “Who?” Please fucking god let it be me. Let her be crying for me. Let her say my fucking name. “Roan.” Fucking god damn. I swear to god I can taste the saltiness of her pain from here. I can barely push out the word. “Princess?” A gasp, razored and piercing as my own pulse, answers me. Fluttering pink tipped fingers smash flat against the railing, steadying herself as she

looks up. Her gorgeous face fills my gaze. Marred only by the huge drops plunging from her enormous chocolate eyes and trailing down her pale cheeks. “You’re alive.” Pure joy explodes in her expression as she hurls herself forward. Scrambling through the narrow window to engulf me. Losing her lavender and black hat when she clambers to get to me. The first time I’ve ever held her like this, and I practically squeeze the breath from her tiny frame sobbing into the crook of my neck. My body on fucking fire to have her sheathed against me. Shrouding me with long silky hair tickling my arms. Engulfing me with the flowery innocence floating on her satin skin. Singeing me with her panting breaths from my ears to my tightening balls. “I can’t believe you’re alive. They told me you were dead.” Shock swirls with relief in her repeated assertion. Wet lips brushing against the side of my throat. My shirt twisted in her small fist as if I’ll disappear again. “I thought you were dead.” Fuck me if I don’t want to lift her little skirt, impale her on my hungry cock, and hold her tight while she admits everything I want to hear. Watch her glorious body, exposed and bare, ride me while she confesses her true feelings for me too. Fucking never let her go from my arms or my bed. But fuck if we don’t have fucking time for any of that. Yet. I force myself to untangle her fierce grip around

my around my torso and clutch her trembling shoulders. Her wild eyes search my face. Scanning me from forehead to chin. Proving to herself I’m real. “I swear I’ll explain everything to you. But, right now, you’re in danger. I’ve got to get you the fuck out of here.” “What? I—I don’t understand.” Her head shakes furiously. Long hair brushing over her slender shoulders in her confusion. “Arturo’s…he’s gone. I’m safe now.” Insistent fingers splay across my chest. “Because of you.” Because of me. An appreciative smile I fucking love lights up her sweet face. That I fucking hate having to steal from her plump lips. Convincing her is going to be so much harder than I thought. “You’re not safe with Dante.” Scarlet races up her cheeks, and she squirms in my grasp. “Dante said he loves me and wants to marry me, after a respectable mourning time. Then I’ll be able to keep my father’s promise.” Not a promise but a fucking debt. Her father’s fucking debt. God damn it. And god damn him. For saddling her with this fucked up burden. She actually seems fucking pleased to have the chance to redeem herself for the failure she thinks she is. Forcing me to prove the truth she refuses to accept. As well as crush her more with a harsh reality her innocent mind can’t comprehend. Arturo punished her out of anger and impatience and

frustration. Cruel because he could be. His brother…fuck. Dante’s a fucking sadist. Cruel because he wants to be. He’d fuck her up even worse and enjoy the torture so much more. “You don’t owe him. Your obligation ended with Arturo.” “No it didn’t.” Falling back to her knees, she huddles into herself with shame. “I didn’t give him a son.” Thank fuck for that. I may have lost her physically. I can’t risk her denying me mentally. I take a deep breath. Attempting to calm my voice. Straining to not frighten her. Well aware her guard stands right outside the door. If she tries to take off, there’ll be a massacre in this church that she’ll never forgive me for. “We don’t have time to argue. Please come with me, and I’ll tell you the entire story. You can decide for yourself. But you have to give me a chance to help you.” “I’m sorry but I can’t leave.” Seconds tick away. Sweat beads roll down my back despite the cool air blowing from the vents at our feet. I’ve got to convince her. She has to agree before someone knocks. Questioning what is taking so long. Inquiring why she hasn’t come out yet. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll bring you back. Straight to the mansion and Dante.” Which will never fucking happen but she doesn’t have to know that. “Just come with me.”

Nothing. Her gaze remains on her folded hands. Praying for something that I hope isn’t Dante. Coercion isn’t going to work. I’m going to have to force her. “I’ve never lied to you before.” I use the same commanding tone from when I found her starved and told her we weren’t going to church. The same dominant tone her compliant nature responds to. “I’m not lying to you now. When you exit the confessional, tell your guard you need to go to the bathroom. I’ll meet you at the end of that hallway.” Not a question. An order. She flicks a quick gaze at me before nodding. Thank fucking god. A shady trick playing on her desire to please to get what I want. I’m an asshole, yet my actions aren’t selfish. Well not totally anyway. “Good girl.” A slight jolt from her slender body welcoming my affirmation of her obedience. I know I’m a sick fucking bastard, but I really want to see how she responds to other orders I issue. Watch how she reacts to more lavish praise. I adjust my twitching dick while she rises and slips out the door. Waiting a dime beat before I flip the switch to dim the green light overhead and exit the chamber myself. Sorry folks, no confessions today. Luckily, no one waits nearby. Which hopefully earns me a few extra minutes more than I planned before they begin to congregate and figure out through strained whispers and musings that Father Ken is missing.

The choir accompanies my jog to the main corridor, soprano voices reminding visitors that all are welcome in this place. Except for guests like me. But I don’t give a damn. This is my last time here. Hers too. I slip behind the massive white column closest to the restroom. Less than ten feet from the exit. Adrenaline pumps in my veins when I catch sight of her. Slow yet decisive steps to her goal. The dumb ass following behind her appears indifferent to her destination or purpose. Unaware of her worry. Oblivious to her squeezing the rhinestone button of her tiny bronze purse over and over. I know you’re terrified, angel. Just keep walking. Just take a few more steps. Just one foot in front of the other. Never breaking her gaze, I fucking try to mentally will her to come to me. Be the lure she can’t resist. A haven to the chaos. A refuge from the turmoil. So close I can see the delicate divot above her quivering lip. So close relief floods my taut muscles, and I finally offer her an encouraging smile. That I feel all the way to my fucking bones because I am one fucking happy bastard. Until she stops. Forcing the man behind her to side-step lest he barrel into her, she pulses with uncertainty. He tips his head down. Murmuring in her ear. Sliding his hand onto her lower back.

Touching what’s fucking mine. God damn it. Rage seeps through my pounding chest. Forget any intention I had of curtailing my temper. Of refraining from violence in a holy place. Because nothing will keep me from her. Including her. I hold out my hand, but she shakes her head. Slow at first until he tugs her closer, and she mouths the words I refuse to accept. “I can’t.” She wrests herself out of his arm, wrapped tight around her waist, and bolts to the ladies room, slamming the door behind her. Fuck this. I jet into the janitor closet next to the lavatory and jump to catch the lip of the huge dark blue tube snaking through the ceiling. Ripping the cylinder down from the cables, I slide through the duct and hang from my fingertips before dropping to the tile. The sight behind me when I spin around breaks my normally cold heart. Plastered against the wall, she trembles. Terror blazes in her eyes. Jesus Christ. She thinks I’m going to attack her. That I’m going to hit the woman I love. I step flush to her, only our clothes between us, and crouch down to her eye level, cupping her small cheeks. “I will never hurt you.” Her forehead brushes mine when she nods. I can’t be sure she genuinely believes me, or she’s too petrified to do anything but agree. Either way,

we don’t have time to discuss her uncertainty now. “Mrs. Moretti? Are you okay?” Concern grinds in the deep voice from the hallway. He won’t wait much longer for an answer. I give her a gentle shake. “Come on Viviana. We’ve got to go.” Her delicate body shudders under my punishing clench on her arms. Damn it, I’m too fucking rough with her. But I can’t control myself. Or restrain my determination. She is coming with me. “I’m scared.” A burning whisper warms my lips, aching to taste hers. “I know princess, but you don’t have to be.” Despite my tight grasp, she jumps from the pounding on the blackened wood. “I’m coming in, Mrs. Moretti.” “Please trust me.” I don’t give her a chance to answer and twirl her around. Jerking her quaking back against my chest just as he busts through the door. Surprise jolts his body from her trapped with my bicep shoved to her throat. Well aware of Dante’s wrath if anything happens to his fiancée. Her panicked cry kills me as I thrust my gun to her temple. I’ve got to get him all the way in here. She’d always blame herself if I hurt any other innocent parishioners. No collateral damage allowed this time.

Hard eyes meet mine while she struggles in my grip. “Get in the stall.” Although he raises his hands up in agreeable compliance, a defiant smirk lifts his flushed cheeks. “No problem. Just relax man.” “Roan, please–“ As much as I hate to stifle her, I coil my fingers over her mouth and hold her still. Fucking killing me to use brute force on her but I’m as gentle as I can be. “All the way motherfucker.” “Okay, okay.” With the nonchalance of a Sunday stroll he meanders between the metal partitions. I’ve been doing this for too damn long and sense his reaction before I see the movement. The widening of his shoulders, the calming intake of breath before his twists, sliding out his Glock. Too late asshole. He crashes backward against the concrete wall from the bullet in his heart and slams down onto the toilet. Water splashing onto his black pants from his hand jamming into the bowl. Germs no longer a worry for him. She gasps behind my palm, and her knees falter from the violence. From the death. From disappointment in me. No opportunity to offer any explanations or request any absolution. We’ve got to jet. I scoop her up and curl her against my chest. Too numb to resist, she allows me to control her.

Pliable as I tug the wedding bands off her delicate finger and rip the thin sparkly necklace from her slender throat. Eliminating the possibility of trackers, I toss them to the floor and clutch her tight. With only one hand free, I fumble to click the lock behind us. Discouraging anyone from using the seemingly occupied facility. I stride down the corridor. Determined yet casual. Well as casual as a man can be carrying a limp woman in his arms. Less than two hours before they’re missed from not returning home. Maybe one more hour before Dante’s men attempt to access the cameras in the area to track us down. Only to discover my tech friend, who’s been very well rewarded, has disabled or overridden all the recordings to keep that motherfucker from seeing me, her, or the car. Dante will soon figure out searching for her is fucking futile. I’ve planned out every meticulous detail of this rescue since I woke up in Nobbie’s van with a second chance I never expected and sure as hell don’t deserve. But she does. She deserves fucking everything, and I’m going to make damn sure she gets it. And Dante won’t ever be able to stop me. Or keep me from her.

Three and a half hours. Hundreds of miles. Two states. And she hasn’t said one fucking word the entire time. Hasn’t uttered a single god damn sound since I buckled her into the backseat and squealed out of the parking lot. Leaving her old life behind and now only five highway exits away from the lot where I stashed another car for a switch. I know she’s in shock, attempting to process what I’ve done. Struggling to make sense of me abducting her after I swore I wouldn’t harm her and then held a god damn gun to her head. Which I fucking hate but can tolerate. As long as she eventually trusts that she’s safe with me. Otherwise, I’ll spend the rest of our journey —the rest of my fucking life if I have to —eliminating any doubt. “We’re going to stop and get lunch in a few minutes. Are you hungry?”

I’ve never seen a head lift so slowly. So gradual I have to glance back through the windshield twice before she finally breaks the blank stare fixated on the grey blanket she squeezes between her curled fingers. The thick fleece the perfect substitute for the little purses she normally kneads when she’s nervous. Unsure how the situation would play out, I prepared for all scenarios. Glad now that I grabbed the cover too. “No, but thank you.” Despite the circumstances, her manners never falter. She doesn’t seem to either. Never freaking out or melting down. Just remains quiet and deep in her mind, accepting what fate doles out to her. Consenting to the decisions made on her behalf. Probably the only way she’s survived the last few years. Her gaze returns to her lap as we slow, the speed limit dropping to twenty-five in the commercial area of this small town. She misses out on seeing the enormous statue of a red and white striped bag, promoting a homemade candy and popcorn shop. Kind of random, but I think she would enjoy the novelty if she would ever look up. I guess I could have put her on the passenger side but habit kicked in under pressure. Besides, sitting next to me might have been too close for her right now. When she’s used to being alone in her own head most of the time. When she’s used to being

afraid. “You have to eat angel.” I parallel park on the side street. Busy enough with the small library, Chinese buffet, and YMCA edging a working class neighborhood, the white station wagon can probably sit here for days without drawing much attention. Or at least until the device rigged to start an electrical fire detonates in sixty minutes. Eliminating the evidence we were ever inside. No fingerprints or hairs left to trace. No one shows us any interest when I climb out, grab the duffel bag from the trunk, and slide open her door. Thank fuck she accepts my outstretched hand and doesn’t jerk her fingers away when I keep them tucked inside mine while I guide her across the street. I’d be a fucking liar if I said I didn’t fucking love holding her close. Especially as the temperature drops the further north we drive. “I’ve got a coat in here for you to put on when we leave.” “Okay, thank you.” A blue and orange neon sign blinks in the picture window framed with fluffy checked curtains, signaling the small diner is open. The scent of bacon lingers in the air, making my stomach grumble. Too early for the lunch crowd, all but one of the twelve tables is open. Two older gentlemen sit in the back corner with their white coffee mugs, solving the world’s problems. I steer her to the booth closest to the entrance so I can view the

entire restaurant and both doors in and out of the sparse dining room. “Thank you.” Thank you. All I can induce out of her. Nine fucking words in four hours, and she speaks only to be polite. When there’s so much I need to tell her. So much I want to hear from her. I can’t push. Not until I can get her home anyway. Instead I grab the menu tucked between the salt and pepper bottles while she unrolls her silverware and smooths the thin paper napkin across her skirt. A tall woman in a camouflage sweatshirt, who walks with the gait of an avid horse rider, strides over and sets two plastic cups of ice water on the scratched table top. “Welcome to Betty’s. The daily special’s salmon patties, macaroni and cheese, and baby peas with pearl onions. We’re out of meatloaf.” She yanks a small order pad out of the dingy white apron tied around her slender waist and focuses her attention on Viviana. “So, what can I get for you, honey?” Confusion lines Viviana’s innocent face as the lady waits for her response. Offering only a puzzled stare at the woman who soon grows impatient, tapping her pen tip on the green lined paper. Probably thinking there aren’t that many choices in this little cafe so the decision shouldn’t be so difficult. Or wondering why Viviana doesn’t peruse

the laminated list of dinner entrees laying in front of her. “Miss?” Both of them look at me. Both of them wanting me to resolve this peculiar issue, unsettling for each of them. Albeit for very different reasons. “We’ll both have number seven, medium rare, fully dressed. Fries with one, onion rings on the other.” The woman jots down my request and then smiles. Insincere and forced. Enough to reflect her irritation, yet not enough to jeopardize her tip. “Great. I’ll bring them out as soon as they’re up.” Viviana sinks deeper into the cracked beige cushion, hugging herself while the waitress scurries off to the kitchen window. “I’m sorry I didn’t know what to do. I’ve never ordered anything before.” Of course she hasn’t. Fucking Arturo always decided for her. Whether she liked his selection or not. Fuck, I’ve got to remember how sheltered she’s been. Remind myself how little life experience she has. “Don’t worry about it.” I nod to her glass. “Is water okay? I can get you an ice tea or Coke or something else if you want.” “No, water’s perfect. Thank you.” With a shaking hand she lifts the drink to her mouth and takes a long sip. As if proving her assertion to me. Keeping everything agreeable as always. Pretending she’s fine. Striving not to provoke an argument. Like she used to do with

Arturo. Which she never should have to do with me. Fuck me for scaring her. I smile and nod in my own approval. Hating how badly I’ve fucked this up. Despising myself for frightening her when I need to prove to her that she never has to fear me. “I’m sorry about what happened at the church. But, you have to know I’m not going to hurt you. You don’t ever have to be afraid of me.” “You killed Bruno.” A whisper so faint I read her lips more than I hear the sounds. “I know. I’m sorry.” Actually I’m not. At all. But I tell her what I think she needs to hear. No doubt in my mind he deserved far worse, although she doesn’t need to know that. Probably unnecessary since she’s already been exposed to more brutality than any woman ever should. At least three other men killed in her presence since I’d been working for Arturo. Probably even more before that with his quick temper and penchant for immediate punishment. Yet, I still want to shield her from the savagery of our world as much as I can. “But he would’ve taken you back to Dante, and I won’t let that happen.” She studies the damaged oak top. Running her fingertip along one of the deepest indents. “You killed Arturo too.” Without a single fucking ounce of remorse. “To

protect you. I will kill who ever I have to so I can keep you safe.” I lean closer to her. Covering her hand with mine to keep her attention on me rather than the crevices she nervously follows. “Including Dante.” Nothing. No horrified gasp. No slap across my face. No jerking away from my touch. Or the threat I imply. The warning of what will happen if she tries to go back to him. She just sits there. Doesn’t argue. Doesn’t fight. Doesn’t ask. This. This is what fucking frightens me to my core. I’ve stolen her away from everyone and everything she knows. Driven her in a strange car for hours and brought her to a restaurant she’s never seen before and she doesn’t even know how to fucking order food. Just goes along without complaint. I could do anything I fucking want to her, and she’d let me. She’d fucking let me. Solidifying the notion that’s been floating for the past four weeks in my conscience. That I wasn’t even sure I still had anymore. Until I met her. Not just that she’s mine. But that I’m not wrong in taking her. I can’t trust her to take care of herself. I can’t trust that she would survive in this world on her own. That she wouldn’t end up with

some sick bastard like Arturo or Dante who’ll confine her to a new hell after I just rescued her from the old one. So, it’s Dante or me. His prison or mine. And it sure as hell won’t be his. No second thoughts. No unnecessary guilt. No going back. I will show her that I’m what she needs. “If you didn’t make that promise to your father, would you want to be with Dante?” A deep vee pinches her forehead, and she pushes back in her seat. Almost as if to escape from me and the question I ask. But I refuse to let her deny me or the truth. “Answer me Viviana.” “No.” Defensive in her tone yet accurate in her response. “Why not?” Silence. Again. “Why not?” She bristles from the authoritative tone that always works. “I’m scared of him. Of the things he said he wanted to do to me.” I can only imagine. Motherfucker. Struggling to keep my voice as low as hers, I focus on her sweet face. That soothes me like a fucking baby when she’s happy. “Then you should be glad not to go back.” “I guess so…” Confidence doesn’t pound as strong in in her voice as I would like. The argument between her convictions and my assertion plays out in her

expression. At war with herself to accept the freedom of being with me or punish herself from the guilt of her broken vow. Too soon for her decide yet. I can’t expect her to shift her allegiance so quickly or easily. Especially when her loyalty lies with the ghost of her father. Who can never release her from her burden. Only she can do that for herself. With my help. I won’t ever stop trying to convince her otherwise. “Because I’ll never make you do anything you don’t want. You control what happens to you from now on.” Which is only a partial lie. As long as what she decides to do includes me. “Okay.” Slim purple lines snake under her eye. The final visible reminder of Arturo’s last attack. Otherwise, her ivory skin remains flawless. Smooth and clear from youth as well as lack of sun. An ironic benefit of being held captive in your own home I guess. Pink blooms on her cheeks when she catches me staring at her. Uneasy, she tugs down a flyaway strand. Smoothing down her slightly disheveled hair from the loss of her hat. That I’d love to wrap around my fist and yank her head back to suck on the tender skin of her throat. “What?” No reason to lie. “I’ve missed you.” A timid elation lights up her face that makes my

needy cock stir with anticipation. Eager to make her mine in all ways. Intelligent enough to know it will probably be a long ass time before she’s in my bed. “You have?” Fuck. I’m fucking rock hard from the eagerness embedded in her whisper. Desperate for her own validation. “Yeah, princess. More than you’ll ever know.” The admission earns me a shy smile. That fades just as quickly. Fidgeting in her seat, she opens and closes her mouth. Hesitation stealing her words. Even though she’s adorable, I can’t bear to let her squirm. “What’s wrong?” “May I wash my hands please before we eat?” So many fucking things wrong with that request. Almost as fucked up as the answer. She should be able to do whatever the hell she wants. Without my —or anyone else’s —permission. Yet she can’t go alone either. Even if she wanted to. Much too dangerous to let her out of my sight. Plus, we don’t need to draw any more attention than a gorgeous woman in an expensive purple dress and neck breaking stilettos eating in a rundown dive already does. “I’ll go with you.” Relief draws another bashful grin to her luscious lips. Mimicking mine while I glide her off the bench and tuck her close, kissing her temple where my weapon had been shoved only hours

before. Trying to erase that horrific moment with a loving memory. As well as make us look like one of those obnoxious couples exhibiting way too much affection in a public place and going everywhere together —even the bathroom. Contradicting my normal behavior of blending in with my surroundings. Luckily, the old men in the corner study a newspaper spread across their table. The one in bib overalls tapping a gnarled finger on an article, while the other shakes his gray haired head, arguing the facts. Or seemingly the lack thereof. Lost in their own heated discussion about the budget and schedule for patching county roads. Following a hand scrawled sign taped to the concrete block wall, designating the location of the restrooms, we stride down the back hallway. A single door. Perfect. Until she frowns from me following her inside. “I’m sorry, but I can’t leave you by yourself.” She shifts on her feet. Pressing her hands against the wide black belt at her waist, fiddling with the gold buckle. Uncertainty keeping her immobile. No reason for shyness. I step closer, and tip my head down to her ear. “I’ve seen you naked angel. I can watch you pee.” I feel her shiver all the way to my aching balls. Damn, I need this woman. Even though I probably shouldn’t, I kiss her again. A chaste brush of my

mouth against her forehead. Greedy for the taste of her skin on my lips. Another tremor pulses under my fingers when I caress her cheek. “But I’ll turn around.” Waiting to move again until the faucet squeaks behind me, I can’t help but smile. The rampant blush still flames on her face while she lathers her hands. Since she’s occupied, I take my turn. I chuckle to myself while she crumples the cheap white paper towel slower than I thought humanly possible to prevent her from catching sight of me. Or more accurately my cock. Much quicker than her, I go, wash, and toss my own waded up towel into the tall gray metal trash can. “Ready?” Despite the awkwardness, she snuggles in close when I curl her against me. Which feels so fucking right. Regardless of all the other bullshit swirling around us, there isn’t any question about this. About us. This time I lead her to my side of the booth and slide in next to her on the cracked seat. Might as well let her get used to me being with her. Of us being together. Always a lady, she demurely crosses her legs. The glossy edge of her shoe brushes my shin from our proximity. Accidental on her part but still fucking sexy as hell. I need to fuck her in those heels. Hell, I just need to fuck her. “May I ask you something?” Guilt courses through me from her wholesome

tone. Obviously not at all thinking about what I’m thinking about. “Anything.” “Where are you taking me?” A place I’ve never taken anyone. Never wanted to. Ever. And for some reason I can’t get her there fast enough. “To my house. So we can talk in private without any distractions.” “I’d like that.” Not sure if she means the discussion or the privacy. Hopefully both. Since we’ll be enjoying them together for a very long time. “Me too.” “Here we go.” The waitress interrupts our mutual confessions, setting a platter in front of me and then gliding the other plate across to Viviana’s side. “Double cheeseburger with onion rings, and one with fries. Ketchup’s in the basket. Let me know if you need anything else.” She’s gone before I could tell her even if I wanted to. Which is fine. We don’t need her hovering over us. “I’ve never had a cheeseburger before.” Yeah, I know. She’s only eaten gourmet food prepared by a trained chef. Always healthy and portions as petite as her. When her fucking dick of a husband deemed approval for to actually eat. But that’s the past. Now she deserves to experience some of life’s best pleasures. I’m going to fucking love being the one to give them to her. “It’s full of fat and cholesterol with hardly any nutritional

value. You’ll love it.” I can’t help but grin, watching her figure out how to attack the massive sandwich, bigger than both her fists. Finally she cuts the beast in half, more manageable but still unwieldy as she takes an enormous bite. Her eyes widen before sinking shut. A sexy groan vibrating in her throat while she chews. Fuck yes. “It’s amazing.” Just like you are, angel. “Try the fries.” I squirt a huge dollop of ketchup on the side of her dish. With a cautious swipe through the condiment, she brings the potato wedge to her mouth. Another appreciative moan while she chews. Satisfied with her obvious pleasure, I dig into my food. Trying not to think about my ravenous cock stirring to attention again from the seductive sounds she unintentionally entices me with. After a few minutes, her slender fingers inch closer and closer. I’m not sure if she’s really going to steal one or not. But damn, she does. She really fucking does. Snags an onion ring right off the pile and gobbles down the entire crispy fried circle before I can respond. Her giggle matches my chuckle when I gawk at her with feigned shock. Fuck she’s glorious. The first time I’ve ever seen her be mischievous or sneaky. Not sure if her behavior is normal

considering all the hell she’s been through. I guess I don’t really care. She seems happy —happier than I’ve ever seen her —and that’s all I want. “What do you think?” “They’re really good too.” I push the platter closer, and we eat in surprisingly comfortable harmony. Going back and forth, sharing between the side dishes. She eats way more than I ever expected. Probably the first time she’s ever had the luxury of pigging out. The only meal she’s been permitted to eat however much she chooses. “Can I interest you in any dessert? We’ve got homemade coconut cream pie.” The waitress finally returns since she delivered our dinners. With her arrival, Viviana’s humor departs. Her attention returning to her hands tucked back into her lap. The playfulness stolen from the interruption. Damn it. “No, we’re good. Just the check.” “Yes sir.” The woman rips a scribbled sheet from her pad and lays the bill on the table before grabbing both of our half empty glasses. “You can just pay me when you’re ready.” The growing wail of a siren signals the real end of our meal. No time to wait for drink refills. I toss two twenties on the table, and lug the duffle bag out from underneath, yanking open the zipper to grab her coat. Her shy smile thanks me as I hold the

jacket up for her to slide into. Luckily fitting perfectly since I had to guess at the size. I tug her close under the pretense of buttoning the black material closed and because I fucking love the feel of her body pressed against mine. “Don’t say anything when we leave. Just walk with me. Everything’s okay. I promise.” Frowning from my whisper, she nods and allows me to steer her around the waitress and the cook, a short, beefy man venturing out from the kitchen now too. Both of them clamoring to look out the front window from the commotion outside. Several pick-up trucks with blue flashing lights surround the lone fire engine, while six guys roll out a yellow and white hose to douse the flames engulfing the dashboard of our former ride. A bit of overkill with that level of manpower for an easily contained fire, but at least they care about protecting their town. Her fingers squeeze mine. Worry lining her beautiful face. “Oh no! Our–“ I tap my index finger to my lips and shake my head. Inferring my reminder, she keeps silent yet doesn’t loosen her grip while we hustle in the opposite direction. To the beige Camry sitting on the gravel drive next to a used car lot. Strategically parked to blend in with the front row of the dealer’s stock, the vehicle actually sits on private property of a bank-owned house. No one to complain about

a random car in their driveway. “Right here princess.” Without argument, she glides into the front seat after I open the passenger door. Which I know with her submissive personality she wouldn’t dare question me, but I’m grateful she doesn’t appear bothered by the change. Hopefully, she’s not pretending. “Thank you Roan.” “You’re welcome.” Just like old times. Except this time, I refuse to call her by the name I despise. Instead, I stroke her cheek with only the fear of her withdrawing from my touch to concern me. She leans into my palm, welcoming my gentle affection. The noise and bustle from my diversion down the road fades away. Right now, it’s just me and the woman I love almost purring from my tenderness. Totally unaware of all the other pleasure I can give her. Will give her. Soon. Her gaze follows me. Tracking my every movement as I circle the sedan and climb in next to her. Which I welcome so much more than her usual downward scrutiny. “Everything’s really okay?” Beyond okay, now that you’re with me permanently. “Yes, I’m just making it impossible for Dante to follow us. I won’t ever let him find you.” The relief softening her body eases the

remaining tension in mine. We have a long way to go before she trusts me completely. But she’s totally worth the effort. And, the wait.

Viviana

squeezes my fingers laced through hers while her other hand curls over my wrist. Holding me tight. As if she’s never going to let me go. “Thank you for lunch. It was a lovely change from my usual selection. I enjoy trying new dishes.” Ah yes, pleasant conversation like old times too. A semblance of normalcy to combat the uncertainty from her ruined routine. Yet quite an improvement with her sitting next to me instead of in the back. Twisted sideways in her seat to watch me while I drive. “I’m surprised you never had a cheeseburger before. Like maybe when you were a kid or something.” “I guess I could have, but if I did, I don’t remember. My mom died when I was only eight. Then it was just me and my Dad. He didn’t cook very much, so we ate a lot of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” No bitterness to her laugh. More wistful than resentful sharing the fond memories of her

childhood. Which I’m grateful she experienced. Up until that point anyway. I have the file on her. Full of grim statistics about the murder of her mother and the criminal activities of her father. But not the personal details. Not the intimate aspects that reflect the real story. “What about after he died? Who took care of you then?” “Arturo. Well, his housekeepers did.” The grin dissipates as quickly as my ire grows from the direction of her comments. “He was named my legal guardian, but I never actually saw him or talked to him until we were married. There were nice ladies who came in and cooked and cleaned. His secretary would take me when I had a doctor or dentist appointment, but I didn’t go out very often other than that.” Of course she didn’t. Already fucking prisoner to him. “So you were alone.” “Not exactly.” Her head tips side to side. Seemingly to find the words for a more accurate description. “His guards were always outside of course and tutors came during the day since I was home schooled. Saturdays and Sundays I was primarily by myself.” Maybe not alone but still fucking lonely. Fucking bastard. Keeping her isolated for no actual reason except his selfishness. “What did you do then on weekends?”

I fucking hate feeling like I’m interrogating her. Although she doesn’t seem offended. Or hold back from revealing more of her past to me. Which is perfect, since she’s going to be my future. “I wasn’t allowed to watch TV or have a computer, so I read a lot. He let me have a few art supplies, and I would paint or sketch sometimes.” Let me. God, he was a cruel bastard. So fucked up to mistreat a child who probably never asked for a damn thing. “I liked to do yoga, and I swam laps in the pool.” Her eyes light up with a joy that I’d kill to ensure she always experiences. “Oh, and I had a dog, Holly, for a while that one of the guards gave me. She was an adorable little black and brown Yorkie. She loved sleeping in my bed with me and snuggled on my lap anytime I sat down. Poor dog, I was such a girlie girl I was always tying bows in her hair and painting her tiny nails.” The sweet nostalgia evaporates from her expression along with the exuberance in her tone. “Arturo was furious when he found out. He killed the guard and her. I cried for two weeks after she was gone.” Looking up from wherever she’d been lost in her memories, she shakes her head. Haunted by the cruel past gripping her. “Even though I loved her, I wish he had never given her to me. Then they’d both still be alive. Is that weird?”

Somehow I get the sense she’s really asking me if I think she’s weird. With the psychological abuse she’s endured, I’m surprised she’s this normal. “No, not all. I think it’s selfless to sacrifice what you want to save someone else.” She seems pleased by my answer. A bit of absolution she can’t seem to find from anyone else. Including herself. “Because it seems like people die a lot because of me.” Now that suggestion is fucking crazy. Bearing guilt she doesn’t deserve. I meet her eyes. Dim and sad again with shame I can’t fucking stand. “Not because of you angel. None of this is your fault. No one blames you.” “I don’t think that’s true.” Small fingers stroke over the back of my hand. As if consoling me instead of herself. “One of the maids told me that Arturo hated me because I was so bad. That’s why I never received any birthday or Christmas presents or had anyone who loved me or had friends to play with. Because I didn’t deserve any. So I tried really, really hard to be good, but nothing ever changed.” Unbelievable. Fucking bitch for telling her something so cruel and insane. No wonder Viviana seeks so much approval and affection. Piercing me to my soul from the lack of emotion in her words. Just acceptance that some bullshit accusation uttered by one of Arturo’s minions so long ago must

be true. “I think that lady was a crazy bitch and you shouldn’t give a damn what she said.” Just a slight shrug. Regardless of how much I insist, my assertion can’t weaken a conviction she’s been sentenced to for years. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot since we left the church. That maybe some of them are like you. That I just think they’re dead, but they’re really not.” My chest aches for the hopefulness flooding her voice. Jaded yet still so fucking naïve. “Yeah, maybe.” She smiles from that. Nodding her head from my encouraging answer. I’m a lying bastard, but if that’s the idea she hangs onto to maintain her sanity, then I’m not going to dispute the possibility. Miles pass by in silence. Lost in her thoughts again. I should let her be. Give her time to contemplate the situation more. Work through the confusion she must feel. But I can’t. Not when I’m plagued by an irrational yet unrelenting feeling that if I don’t keep the conversation going between us, I’ll lose her to her fear. That she’ll be swallowed by the realization I’ve changed her entire life without her permission, and she has no idea what waits for her until we get there. Until I can demonstrate with my actions that I’m not lying. That I won’t give up on helping her have a better life. That she won’t ever have to endure pain from my hands.

Words aren’t enough anymore. But they have to be enough until we get there. “So did you ever get to do anything fun?” Her head tilts. Eyes scanning the crown of the windshield as she thinks about my question. How fucking sad that she has to fucking think about her answer. Nothing pops up instantly like a trip to the beach or getting her driver’s license. “For a while I had a manners coach, Miss Elaine. She taught me how to sit like a lady and use the proper fork and talk with people you don’t know to make them feel at ease. We’d practice by getting all dressed up and having tea parties with fancy china and tiny little sandwiches. She even showed me how to dance properly for a ball or gala. I always loved when she came over. She was my favorite of all my teachers. Much more fun than calculus or trigonometry.” This time I’m the one to laugh. For a kid who hated school and got by doing just enough to be eligible to play sports, those two words give me the fucking chills. “I bet.” “What about you? What things did you do as a kid?” My turn to share I guess. Which feels good but strange. Usually I don’t have discussions with the people I rescue, let alone relationships. Just bag ‘em, tag ‘em, and return ‘em. But she makes me do a lot of things very differently. “I have four

brothers so what I did was get in trouble. Or try and figure out how to get out of it.” A genuine giggle bursts out of her mouth. “Oh wow! What was it like growing up in a house with five boys?” “Loud. Messy. Chaotic. Smelly. My mom tried to be super strict and keep us in line, but we managed to give her a ton of grief over the years.” “But she still loves you anyway?” Concern that I appreciate, yet loathe, darkens her expression. She shouldn’t ever have to doubt a parent’s love. “Yeah, she does. My Dad too. We have our disagreements and stuff, but we love each other.” “Good.” Tension uncoils from her body, and she grins again. “Very good.” For the next three hours, I entice more laughter from her with stories about broken arms and mangled trampolines and pranks gone wrong until we finally have to stop for the last vehicle switch. Sometimes I hate all the political correctness stifling our world, but some of the changes are definitely for the better. And definitely supportive to my personal benefit this afternoon. In the truck stop, I guide her into the family restroom, repeating our amusing procedure from earlier. She pees, I guard. I pee, she blushes. With tender kisses before and after that she seems to expect from me, and I’m more than

fucking thrilled to provide to her. While my cock strains against its confines. Wanting to get in on the action only my lips have earned thus far. “Let’s get some waters before we head out.” Oblivious to the wanton stares of two guys approaching us in the wide hallway leading to the small market, she smiles up at me as we walk. Content to be wrapped in my arm again. Just like I was until these fuckers ruined my pleasure. Unwilling to jeopardize her relaxed countenance, I hide my fury from them eye-fucking her while they pass. One of them even has the fucking audacity to turn back and check out her ass once they’re behind us. Motherfucker. I’d stop and beat his ass if she wasn’t so fragile and wounded right now. Not that I should be surprised. My princess is fucking gorgeous. Even bundled up in her heavy coat, her innocent beauty can’t be diminished. I only release her to grab two bottles out of the cooler and pay for them. But I don’t have to worry about her drifting too far from me. She shadows my every move. The bright spot in my otherwise dark silhouette. Compliant too as always. Not questioning or arguing when we track out a different door than we came in. Crossing over the grassy median to the gray minivan parked at a rundown motel. Out of the line of sight of the gas station’s cameras my guy

tampered with, to the hotel, too old and dilapidated to spring for any video surveillance of their own. Once we’re inside the beater, I make a quick loop around the perimeter to check our previous vehicle. Just as I anticipated, a thick glaze smears all the interior windows from the aerosol containers I left in the front seat that exploded after we exited. By the time someone figures out the car’s been abandoned, the bleach will have destroyed any evidence of the passengers. Some of the tension in my neck and shoulders softens from the confirmation. Our path is untraceable, and now I can focus all my attention and efforts on her. “Only a few more hours, and we’ll be home.” “Okay.” Her tone sounds anything but okay. She fiddles with the label on her drink, crinkling down the edges before smoothing the white and blue paper against the plastic again. Damn, I’m a dumb fuck for getting a vehicle where she can’t sit close enough to easily hold my hand. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing. I just…” Too many punishments from speaking her mind keep her from answering. “Tell me princess.” “I was just wondering if anyone else lives in your house…if anyone…is with you.” Fuck me if she’s not adorable. Flustered with what I think might actually be jealousy. “No, I live

alone. I’ve always lived by myself. It’s going to be really nice having you there with me.” And the radiant smile is back. Thank fucking god. She’s pleased that I’m single. Was single. “I think you’ll like it too. Windows cover the entire back of the house, looking out onto a huge lake. I have a small beach with a deck going into the water and there’s a fire pit built right into the sand. I’ve also got a small boat to take out when the weather warms up.” “Really?” God, I love her excitement. Relishing the anticipation in her voice. Not all of it’s for me. I’m not that fucking arrogant. But hopefully she’ll soon realize I give all of this to her —share all of this with her —because I really want her to be peaceful and happy. With the house and with me. “Yeah, there’s also a lodge that’s part of the village. They host events for the property owners and the tourists renting houses throughout the year, like fireworks in the summer and a barbeque in the spring. We can check it out if you want to.” “I do.” She’s almost breathless with exhilaration. “I really want to.” Of course she does. She has a lot of living to make up for from everything she’s missed out on. “Me too.” I tell her more about the township. The variety of eclectic restaurants and boutiques primarily

targeted to vacationers, but that I think she would enjoy exploring as well. “Do they have a church?” Of course she would ask me that. And of course, I don’t have a fucking clue since I’ve never gone to mass until I met her. Always figured God would laugh his angelic ass off if a guy like me attempted to repent. “Once we get settled, I’ll find one and take you. I promise.” “Thank you.” Pink tints her lifting cheeks. Matching the crimson hues streaking across the horizon when we pull up to the welcome station at the entrance to my neighborhood. She peeks around me straining to see the view beyond the tall evergreens while we still have a few more minutes of daylight left in these short days. More curious than nervous. Hopefully that continues. The security guard leans toward us, giving me a terse smile. Bored and probably a little suspicious. That’s fine. I don’t take offense from people I don’t give a damn about. “Good evening, sir. May I see your identification please?” He nods when I hand over my license and slides the narrow window closed. Comparing my card and car against the information on his screen. A few quick taps on the keyboard, and he returns to us. Much friendlier now that I’ve proven myself as

well as my worth, once he sees which address is mine despite the piece of shit I’m driving. “Thank you Mr. Stieler. Have a good night.” I pull away, well aware what she’s wondering. Even more aware that she won’t ask. Might as well explain now since she’ll eventually take my real last name. “Stieler is one of my aliases. I used it when I bought the land to keep anyone from tracking me here.” Disappointment clouds her face, and her gaze returns to the window. “Oh.” So much more than surprise embedded in that single word. Some of the confidence I’ve gained with her lost from a stupid secret that doesn’t have anything to do with us. “I have several pseudonyms I use when I work. My real name is Roman Roan. I used Roan on the assignment to rescue you since I knew I would be there for a while. I didn’t want to mess up. Having a fake name on a piece of paper is a lot different than being called by something you’re not used to.” “Roman.” My cock twitches in my pants again to hear her try out my real name. “Is it okay if I still call you Roan?” No. I don’t know why but I fucking hate that idea. Like she’s keeping a fucking wall between us. My grip tightens on the wheel but I give her a casual grin. Hopefully my agreement seems sincere.

“Sure, if that’s what you want.” “Okay.” She doesn’t smile back. A tension brewing underneath her drawn face. “What is your work? I thought you were a bodyguard.” Damn. I did not want to have this conversation yet. “I’m a mercenary. I do what people pay me to do, if the price is right. Mostly I rescue people. When you’re rich and involved in illegal shit, you’re a target for people who want a ransom or revenge. Usually both.” “Not a bodyguard and not Roan.” I can’t see her expression in the dim light but I don’t need to. I can hear the realization dawning in her tone. Mulling over all the information I’ve been sharing with her. We drive the rest of the winding road in silence. Neither of us saying a word when I pull into my driveway and wait for the third garage door to lift. And it’s fucking killing me that I’ve ruined everything I’ve built up to this point. “So when you told me at the church you never lied to me, that was a lie.” Son of a bitch. Too fucking sharp. My princess is too smart for me to think I can get anything past her. “I never lied to you about what’s important. I want you here. I will do anything to protect you. I will never hurt you. All of that is true.” What’s also true is that she doesn’t believe me. Doesn’t keep hold of my hand after I help her out of the front seat. Doesn’t look at me with longing

like she did before. Doesn’t smile when we step inside the house. Just stands mute next to me in the mud room while I punch the code into the alarm key pad. Waiting for me to tell her what to do. When all I want to do is find a way to make her to understand. To realize what she means to me. “I’ll take your coat.” She doesn’t resist when I slide the sleeves down her arms yet keeps her gaze glued to the fucking floor. “Thank you.” We’re back to pleasantries of course. God damn it. “Let me give you a tour.” Her dainty hands wrap around my bicep. I want to be relieved she touches me, but I can’t. I know the reaction is just habit not preference. Frustration clenches my jaw. Yes, I fucking fucked up. But she could be with Dante. Naked and strung up by her wrists. Suffering whip marks across her back because the bastard loves the sight of ripped flesh on virgin skin. Instead, she’s standing here safe and protected and loved. And she’s fucking pissed at me for things I can’t control. I search her pale face, and my irritation instantly evaporates. I’m a god damn fucking dumb ass moron. Not pissed. Scared. My princess is scared. Everyone lies to her. Now including me. And it hurts. Especially from me.

I blow out a deep breath and tip my head down to hers. “I’m sorry. I know all of this is confusing. It seems like both of us have to learn some new ways of doing things.” “When you kissed me…” Delicate fingertips trace her cheek where my lips had brushed her sweet skin hours before. “No one has touched me with love or affection for more than nine years. Except for you. You’re always so gentle with me. I don’t want it to be a lie too.” Nine. Fucking. Years. The rawness of her plea slices me to the bone sharper than a razor. I’d do fucking anything to go back and make that motherfucker suffer a thousand fold for what he’s done to her. “It’s not.” I don’t know why the hell we’re whispering. But anything louder will burst the bubble we hold between us. Push too hard and it will pop. Step back and it will float away forever. Neither one can happen. “It never has been.” Silky hair brushes my chin from her head bobbing underneath. Paralyzing me from her subtle movement. I can’t move. Not until she does. Not until her small fingers slowly reach up and curl around the slick fabric of my jacket. Trusting me. Testing me. Tempting me. For once I’m a good man, and instead of taking what I want, I give her what she needs. A hug.

Wrapping tight around her, I mold her into my chest. With her arms pinned between us so she doesn’t have to do a damn thing except let me love her. Nothing more; nothing less. With no expectations of anything in return. And she lets me. Her body softens within my solid grip. Her tranquil sigh ruffles against the nylon. Her hands tuck under my throat. Fucking heaven. I give absolutely zero fucks about anyone or anything else in the entire world at this moment except for her. Darkness shrouds us. The sun completely swallowed into the horizon with only faint light in the room from the control panel on the washing machine. But I’m in no hurry. I’d fucking stand here like this all night if she’d let me. “You have a lovely home.” Or maybe not. At least my princess and her impeccable manners have come back to me. I kiss the top of her head. Slowly releasing my hold but not her body. I don’t want her anywhere but with me. “Thank you. How about you see the rest of it before you decide?” My lame teasing earns me a giggle and a fucking gorgeous smile. Even more glorious when her hands slide back on my arm where they belong. She seemed most excited in the car about the sun room, so I escort her there first. “When the weather warms up, I’ll take the glass out so there are just

screens in the windows. Then you really feel like you’re outside but without the bugs.” She gives the old porch swing a small nudge. Seemingly enamored with the smooth wooden rails. Smiling from the straining creak of the chains I’ll need to oil. “Am I really staying here?” Impossible to infer the hidden meaning behind her question, I give her the only option available to her. “Yeah, princess. Did you think I was going to let you stay at a hotel or something?” “You said we’d talk but I wasn’t sure about… everything else.” Everything else. She wants to know if I’m going to try and fuck her. After all she’s been through, I refuse to let her think I’m anything like Arturo. I take what I want, but not consent. Permission to fuck her has to be given freely. As gentle as I can, I clutch her shoulder and pivot her to face me. Confirming she sees the devotion in my eyes when I speak. Ensuring she comprehends the commitment in my expression when she hears my response. “Tonight all we’re going to do is talk. With everything else, I’ll only do what you want me to do. You can be sure about that.” Another rampant blush rushes up her cheeks, which I take as acceptance. Perfect since she doesn’t have any choice. I finish the tour — kitchen, living room, basement —before we end up

in the guest bedroom my mom decorated as a longago housewarming gift. More for my mother than me since she cares about that kind of stuff and I don’t. I guess she was hoping someday I might actually have a normal life. Get a regular job and invite some friends over. Or, even better yet, get married and give her grandchildren. I smile at that thought. She’ll be pleased that I’m going to have a wife soon. “This is your room if it’s okay.” The first time her face falls since our hug. Not sure why. With the yellow walls, white furniture, and green and lavender decorations, I thought Viviana would love the space. Unless the location concerns her more than the style. I’d bring her into my room —my bed —in a fucking second. I may be fucking domineering, but I’m a man. Not a fucking saint. I can’t have her lying next to me without my desire evident to her. She has to come to me when she’s ready. “I have another guest room if you want that instead.” “Oh, no thank you.” Her head shakes furiously. Of course not. Because requesting otherwise would be impolite. A forced smile supports her feigned approval. “It’s beautiful. I would love to stay here.” “Good.” No, not good at all. Her hesitation bothers the hell out of me. I need to figure out what’s upsetting her. “How about I build a fire, and we can relax before we figure out dinner?”

“That would be lovely. Thank you.” Probably not after I tell her the rest of what she needs to know. But the honesty I promised her starts tonight. So she can finally put the past behind her and both of us can focus on our future.

“May I take my heels off please?” Viviana stands next to the sofa. Fidgeting with the thick cord running along the edge of the cushion. Squirming and uncomfortable, not just because of her shoes. Unable to relax in this strange place without the normal rules to define and direct her behavior. Fear. Flashing bright and hot in her eyes when I rise from crouching in front of the brick hearth and stride toward her. She stumbles back a few steps. An instinctive response from my quick movements. Fuck. A reminder again that I have to move slower and more cautiously for my skittish princess. With all the sudden backhands and unexpected shoves, she can’t let her guard down with me yet. I pause, keeping my voice low and soothing. “You don’t have to ask. You can wear whatever you want whenever you want.” Warily watching me, she bends forward and unfastens the straps. After three years of Arturo

demanding she always be ready to go so he never had to wait for her, casual and comfortable doesn’t come easily. It took me a month to figure out why I never saw her without shoes, jewelry, and make-up from early in the morning until I’d head out in the evening. Already missing her before I pulled out of the driveway. After neatly lining the stilettos next to the end table, she lowers herself to the couch and tucks her feet to the side under her dress. Giving her a reassuring nod, I go back to snapping slender twigs and bundling them in small piles. My body already warming from the sips of bourbon I enjoyed after pouring her a glass too and sharing the story of how the raid in an abandoned distillery netted my buddy and me several bottles of very nicely aged liquor. She takes a small drink herself. Sexy as fuck that her eyes never leave mine while she brings the rim to her gorgeous pink mouth. Puckering daintily before her willowy throat swallows down the smooth liquid. I can only imagine how magnificent she will look swallowing me down. Budding flames begin to lick at the larger logs from the nest I’ve built underneath the grate. Relishing the crackling of the seasoned wood I had delivered once I decided I would be bringing her here. And that I was never letting her go. Much slower this time, I walk to the couch and drop down next to her. Invading her space a little,

but I’ve waited too damn long to have her home and I always want to be close to her. She doesn’t flinch this time. Just wraps both hands around her tumbler while I tap my glass against hers. My reward is a small grin before she tucks her head down again. Maybe edging another chunk out of the barrier around her battered heart. “It’s really nice having you here angel.” “It’s really nice being here.” I can’t help myself. She’s too fucking beautiful not to touch. I rest my palm on her thigh. Not squeezing or stroking higher than above her knee. Just connecting with her. Enjoying the images in my head of us relaxing together like this for the rest of our lives. Overwhelming me with the peace I’ve chased for so long, that now cuddles beside me. Pleased she’s finally relaxed a little bit too. Because she probably won’t be after I finish telling her the rest of the story she deserves to know. “When you were little, your grandfather established a trust fund for you to make sure you were always taken care of.” A dainty hand releases from her cup and slowly glides to mine curled over her leg. Wrapping around only my index finger. Almost as if anchoring herself against the shit storm coming her way. The bashful gesture a perfect symbol of the cautious trust she places in me rather than the playfulness of her earlier onion ring theft.

“He died when I was two, and I don’t remember him.” “He loved you. Otherwise he wouldn’t have set this up to always provide for you.” A pleased smile lifts her cheeks with my declaration. Nice for her to finally know someone else cares for her besides me. “There were several stipulations outlined in the documents. The first one was that you couldn’t access the money until you turned twenty-one… unless you were married or pregnant.” The humiliation returns to her expression. Unable to negate the proof her father and her husband used her for one of the few genuine gifts she ever received. “The second provision was that you would get a lot more money with a child. The payout increased to thirty million. I guess he wanted to take care of his great-grandchild too. And, if something happens to you, the money passes to your husband upon your death.” Her timid grip tightens and her eyes squeeze closed. Shutting out the images I’m sure still haunt her even in the darkness. “So that means…” “Arturo needed to marry you, get you pregnant, and then kill you after the baby was born to get his hands on your money.” “I guess he really always meant what he said.” Motherfucker. I don’t really want to know but I also have to. “What did he say?”

Her eyes blink open, shiny with tears that don’t fall and her head shakes slowly. Defeated and shattered. “It doesn’t matter now.” Disappointment flows through me. I hate it when she fucking diminishes her feelings. Thinking so little of herself. Believing she doesn’t deserve better. “It does matter. If it hurts you, it matters to me.” I don’t think I’ve ever felt so fucking helpless. Witnessing her shrink into herself against the pillow. Vulnerable and lost. Uncertain what to do. So I do what I did before. I pull her to me and hold her. “I’m sorry.” Nothing. No acceptance or resistance. Just her head resting on my chest and her bent legs draping across my thigh. I curl my arm around her and entwine our hands again. Ignoring the wetness seeping through my shirt from her silent weeping. Clutching her tighter while her body racks with the devastation. All I can do is wait and watch. Wavy lines of heat billow upwards, distorting the white bricks. Bursts of gold and orange flicker on the smooth gloss of the grey swirl tile. Reflecting the dancing surges of light. Without a pattern or direction. Just like us. I hold her until the thicker logs split. The halves splintering and tumbling down between the metal tines. Suffocating the already dissipating flames.

“I’m going to stoke the fire.” Glancing down, I meet closed eyes. Asleep. Spent from the exhaustion accompanying grief. I kiss her smooth forehead and slide out from underneath her. Laying her across the cushions and covering her with the fleece blanket tossed on the side chair. Not a stir or a whimper. She’s really out from the warmth and the booze and the heartbreak. With the addition of a few more pieces of wood and pokes of the embers, I resurrect the blaze as well as my bounding irritation from her suffering. That I can’t figure out how the fuck to relief but sure as hell need to release. I yank off my damp Henley as I stride down the hallway. Headed to the only other place besides with her that I can use to chase away my own demons.

“I couldn’t find you.” Fuck! I really am fucking distracted for her to sneak up on me. I spin around from her quiet voice behind me. The tone heavy with accusation. Her face drawn dark with despondency. Clouded eyes swollen and red above her water trailed cheeks. “I thought you left.” Without her. Damn it. “I’m sorry you were scared.” I flick my wrist to rip apart the Velcro

fastening my glove. “I’d never leave without you. If for some reason I had to, I would tell you first. I promise I won’t just disappear on you.” Not completely convinced, she hugs herself. Rubbing up and down her slim arms covered in a flimsy material that doesn’t protect her from the frigidity in the unheated room or within her apprehension. Comfort I need to give her myself as soon as my hands are free. Reassure her that while I’m fucking obtuse sometimes, my stupidity doesn’t lessen my concern for her. She nods toward my small workout area. “What’re you doing?” “It’s a punching bag. I use it for exercise and to relieve stress. Do you want to try it?” Her body perks up from the opportunity I offer. Gazing from me to the equipment and back again. “Really?” “Sure.” I smile as I look her up and down. Fucking gorgeous. “You’re not really dressed for it. But you can take a few swings and if you like it, we’ll buy you some shorts when we go shopping tomorrow.” You’d think I’d fucking given her a million bucks the way the despair evaporates from her expression. “Yes, please.” “Okay, then let’s do this.” I gesture for her to come closer, and she practically runs. Fuck me

she’s adorable. I position her in front of me, about two feet from the vinyl, and sheath her back. “Sorry I’m sweaty.” She doesn’t seem to notice. Just keeps balling her tiny hand into a fist. My princess is ready to throw down. “Now, imagine the bag is a person so you know where to aim. We’ll start with the face and pretend this is the cheek.” I curl my fingers around hers and together we jab softly against the black plastic. Our bodies synchronized to the same slow rhythm for a smooth cross punch. She catches on fast and keeps going as I slowly slide my arm away. And fail to keep my cock from coming to life with her sweet body pressed against mine. Soft and flowery and fucking glorious in her determination. “You’re doing great.” She nods, focused on the spot I told her. Almost hypnotized. Similar to me when I’m wound up. An easy way to relieve some of the pressure. I’m no fucking psychiatrist but my girl’s got to need an outlet too. So I tell her something I hope helps. “Now when you’re ready you can add some more force. Imagine someone you hate, someone you really want to hurt, and pound away.” Her head bobs again, and I can feel her tiny body tense before she wails on the weight. Over and over. Huffing breaths as she hits with all her might. Long strands flinging back and forth across her shoulder as she drives forward. A damp circle

darkening the back of her light purple dress. Lost in a battle only she can understand. And, hopefully win. I can’t imagine all the times she wanted to hit that bastard back. To make him feel her pain. To make him experience her fear. “Okay, angel, I think that’s enough for now, or you’ll hurt your hand.” Startling from my voice, she blinks a few times and seems to come back again from wherever her mind steals her to when she thinks of that asshole. Still panting while I stroke over her knuckles to make sure she hasn’t cut or bruised the delicate skin. Way more vigorous than I expected. We definitely need to get her properly attired and gloved next time. She steps back when I kiss her palm. Bouncing from the intensity still pulsing in her. Hopping from foot to foot with the energy surging through her. Ready to go again. Maybe ready for me to dig a little deeper. I attempt a nonchalant tone, when I push a bit more myself. Unsure if she’s can withstand me delving into her battle too. “Who were you beating?” Her gaze drops to her fingers cupped in my mine. “Myself.” Goosebumps actually lift on my blazing skin. What in the ever living fuck? I force myself to check my disgust that her fury was aimed at herself. “Why?” My chest aches from her weak, indulgent smile.

As if she humors me. As if she shields me from the obvious answer I’m too thick to understand. “I know it’s wrong to thank someone for taking the life of another.” Her body shivers from the words, and she flips her trembling hand to hold mine. “But I do want to say thank you for telling me everything and for helping me. No one has ever done that before.” Her chin lifts and shoulders smooth back. The brave princess returns. Ready to accept her penance. “Are you going to take me home in the morning?” She’s actually fucking serious. Like I’d ever fucking let her return to that bastard Dante. That I’d ever let her fucking leave me. I don’t blink from her questioning gaze. “No.” “But I thought…at church you told me you would explain everything to me and then take me back.” Her voice fades to a whisper from the realization. “You lied to me again.” Fucking shit. I cannot fucking believe we are having this argument. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry. But it’s for your own good. You don’t–“ “That’s what Arturo used to say too.” Her arms wrap around her torso again as she rocks herself. With the protective mechanism that I fucking hate. Especially when I’m the one to cause her to be so frightened. “When he wouldn’t let me eat, and I’d vomit up the bile from the burning in my stomach. Or

when he held my head under the water until I almost passed out. Or when he’d lock me in the closet and leave me there so long I’d wet myself. All of that was for my own good.” A fucking tornado tears through me from the comparison. So much shit I want to shout. To scream. To slam my fist against the god damn wall. To somehow prove I’m not Arturo. But I’m fucking speechless. Fucked up from her blank expression. Fucking eerily calm. She doesn’t cry. Or scream. Or rage. Just watches me. Hollow and empty. I have no idea how to fix this. Fix us. I’ve never been afraid before. Until now. Until her. I thought she was the naïve one. That she was the one who I would have to explain everything to and help make sense of the world. When all along I’m the one who has no fucking clue. Stupid enough to think that a few days of normalcy and promises of safety and love would erase a decade of torture. “Is that what you’re going to do too? For my own good?” Zero antagonism in her tone. She’s really questioning. After everything we’ve fucking done and said —that I’ve fucking done and said —I’m fucking blown away she wonders if I’m capable of what she asks. “No angel. I’m not. I will never, ever do any of those things to you.” Instead of relief, confusion swirls on her face

from my decisive tone. Frowning and tilting her head as if studying me. Trying to figure out why I say the same damn things yet don’t do the same fucking cruel things to her. Because if I did, then at least she’d know what to expect. Then she’d understand what I want. Rather than be mired in this weird new life that doesn’t make sense to her. “But I’m not going back home?” “No. You live here now…with me. This is your home.” She looks around seeing something I clearly fucking don’t in the almost bare room. Prison walls. Again. Not as extravagant and expensive as Arturo’s but just as strong. Except now she’ll be confined with mercy and tenderness and love. Which I don’t think she realizes. At this point I’m not sure if she ever will. “I thought you understood that.” Apparently I’m the only one who understood that when she shakes her head. Fuck! I take a step toward her only for her to retreat backward. Damn if I’m not scaring her again. I have to be calm but clear since I obviously failed so fucking miserably before. “I want to be with you angel. Not just to keep you safe from Dante and all the other fucked up assholes in the world. I want you to be mine.” Immense doe eyes, more innocent that I’d ever expect for someone so leery, stare at me. Which prevent me from telling her she already is and always will be mine. “Yours?”

“Yes.” For all my layers of thick muscle and brazen mouthiness I can’t seem to quell, I’m nothing but a chicken shit pussy now. Too afraid to ask her if that’s what she wants too. I don’t think I could withstand the implosion if she says no. “But we’ll take it day by day. No need to make any decisions tonight.” Another slow head bob. With an expression I can’t read but have the feeling I won’t like if I did understand. “Okay.” Okay. Instead of demanding to know why I’ve kidnapped her and hold her here whether she likes it or not —whether she wants me or not —she just fucking nods. “May I take a shower please?” My beautiful broken princess. I’m broken too. So fucking broken I can’t even rally the energy to recite my usual speech that she can do what she wants, when she wants. Without any worry of punishment or retribution from her actions. That I love her more than she understands. That I’d kill myself first before I’d ever put my hands on her in anger. But, I don’t think she’ll hear the words anyway. Not sure what I want either. I hate it when she argues with me but she scares the hell out of me even more when she doesn’t. Fuck, now I’m not even sure what I’m fighting for either with her. I

don’t want to control her but I have to. I’ll never hit her but I’m not sure if freedom from abuse justifies loss of freedom for everything else. Fuck. My fingers scrape down my clammy face, and I smile. Defeated and forced but still there to reassure her. “Yeah. I could use one too. I have soap and shampoo and other toiletries in the bathroom off your room. Bring me your clothes when you’re finished, and we’ll wash them.” “Okay, thank you.” Oblivious to the agony churning in me, she grins in return and lets me draw her to me. Freaking me the fuck out. A minute ago she was ready to bolt. Now she’s snuggled against me without an ounce of reluctance. What in the actual fuck? She acts as if nothing’s wrong. Confusing the hell out of me. I’m not sure if she’s pretending everything’s fine. Or if it really is fine…because I’m taking away her choices and telling her what to do. My mind buzzes with the possibility. Reeling from the suspicion of why my efforts are failing. Making me question if the exact opposite of what I thought she wanted —what she needed —is true. “After we get the laundry going, you can help me make dinner.” “I’ve never really cooked before.” Her nose scrunches, admitting what I already know. But still adorable just the same. “No worries. I’ll show you.”

Similar excitement flushes her face from when I told her I would teach her how to box. Thrilled that I’m spending time with her. Guiding her. Directing her. Commanding her. Which is when she’s the happiest. Which is twisted as fuck. She lifts her exquisite face to mine when we reach her bedroom door. Seeking her kiss. Seeking my approval. I love this woman so fucking much affection is no hardship. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” Now I’m tempted as well as confused. I try to tap down both while I scrub myself. Arguing with my stupid self whether I’m a fucking genius or crazier than fuck. It’s been less than twenty-four hours so who the fuck am I to think she won’t thrive with a little more time and a lot more patience. But even back at the mansion, she responded the best when I took charge. Or was that because I’m the only one who connected with her. Who was the only person to actually just be nice to her. Fuck it. I’m overthinking it. I just need to take this day by day like I told her. Shut the fuck up, get out of my own damn way, and follow my own fucking advice. I dry off, jerk on some clothes, and hustle to the kitchen. Well aware I need to get my head together for her. Concentrate on earning her trust and giving her some time and space to

acclimate to me. To the sanctuary I provide her. To the love I offer her. Which all disintegrates to fucking dust when she walks in. Wearing only a towel. Fuck. Me. She’s fucking stunning. And, blushing almost as hard as my hungry cock. Threatening to be free from the restraint of my jeans from her bare thighs and hollow of her breasts peeking out despite the death grip she has on the white linen. I can barely even form thoughts let alone words. “Where are your clothes, angel?” Wincing from my disapproval, her head hangs even lower if that’s possible. “You told me to bring them to you…” Yes, I fucking did. Never imagining she’d come to me half naked. And terrified. I’m a fucking dumb ass idiot for forgetting to mention the outfit I put in her dresser. For assuming she would look through the drawers without my permission. No, instead she walks in here sexy as fuck. Giving me another glimpse of her delicate beauty no longer marred by the normal bruises and scratches that used to mark her. Too much temptation. So much will power required to smile and hold out my hand, which she greedily accepts. Welcoming my reassurance. “Come on. There’s a

robe in the laundry room. You can put that on for now.” After I flip on the light, she holds out her neatly folded dress with a lacy purple bra and sheer slinky panties stacked on the top. Jesus Christ. Expensive silk flows in my hands that I need to have on her instead so fucking bad. She is going to be the fucking death of me if I don’t take her soon. Usually I walk around naked after I strip from a run or working out. But I like to keep my muscles warm and loose when I jog up to the house from morning swims in the lake on my way to my weight room. I squeeze her fingers before I grab the dark red cover up from the hook by the back door. Turning my head as I hold up the terrycloth creating a barrier between us and let her slip inside the sleeves. Stifling a groan as her discarded towel hits the floor. Electricity sparking under my fingertips when they brush her slender neck. Forcing them not to fight her wrapping the material around herself and tying the flimsy belt. She turns around, swallowed by the thick cloth. I guess one-size-fits-all doesn’t really. Although she doesn’t seem to mind. A soft smile graces her sweet face. “I’m ready for you to teach me.” My balls ache harder from the implication. Laundry. She means fucking laundry. “Okay, let’s see what the instructions say.” I lay the thong and bra on top of the dryer.

Much safer over there. Well, not much, but some. She huddles next to me all intense and earnest and adorable as we read the tag. Dry clean only. She looks up at me in confusion. Fuck me if she’s not amazing. “That means we’ll have to send it out for professional cleaning because it can’t be washed with regular detergent and water.” “Oh. What about my lingerie?” I want to see you in them…before I strip you naked and fuck your beautiful body with my mouth and my fingers and my cock. “Those should be fine.” Incapable of touching them again without losing the battle with my furious dick, I motion for her to grab them while I pull out the basket that hangs inside the drum. She lays them inside with a reverence to our task and waits for my approval again. I wink while I pour in the detergent, which makes her flush as bright as her robe, and shove the door shut before pushing the button labeled delicate. “That’s all there is to it. It’ll take about twenty minutes and then we’ll put them in the dryer.” “Thank you for showing me.” Her gaze drops to her bare feet, pink nails curling against the tile with her awkwardness. “And for not acting like I’m stupid. I know someone my age should already know how to wash clothes and cook and lots of

other things I can’t do.” I fucking hate how embarrassed and lost she seems. Especially when I’m standing right here to support her. “Not that you can’t. You just don’t know how because no one has ever taken the time to show you.” “But you’re different. You always take the time.” I see it when she looks up. Finally after all these months, I see the infinitesimal shift. Separating me —what we have —from everyone else. Giving me hope that I’m reaching her more than anyone else ever has. “You’re capable of so much more than you realize. I just want to help you see it yourself.” Her full lips twitch. Parting and closing with the misgivings stifling her. Debating whether or not to say more. So I wait. No rush at all when my princess wants to share her thoughts with me. “How much did my father pay you to rescue me?” Fuck, that came out of nowhere. Not expecting that question at all. The second time we’ve been honest with ourselves and each other in this tiny space. When the fuck did my laundry room become our new confessional? Just like at her church, there’s no reason to answer with anything but the truth. “Nothing.” A trembling hand reaches for me, palming my stomach, which involuntarily twitches under the

warmth of her touch, and tugs my thin shirt. Linking us physically. Connecting us emotionally with the awe flooding her eyes. “You risked your life to save me for nothing?” I curl my fingers over hers. Needing to touch her again. “Not nothing, angel. I got you.” “Roan, I…” Her words may falter but none are needed to convey her message when she lifts up on tiptoes and her small arms coil around my neck. Her delicate body presses to mine, glorious curves soft under the heavy cotton. My heart thuds like crazy in my chest. Because fuck me but this time she hugs me. I crouch down to accept her fierce embrace. Unable to trust myself from sliding my hands under her thighs and wrapping her legs around me. Desperate to drown in her essence. Eager for her taste on my lips, her scent on my skin, her voice in my ear. “I got you too.” I smile against her shoulder. Four simple words that make me fucking giddy like a pansy bitch. “Yeah, you did, and now you’re stuck with me.” A genuine giggle bursts through the tears. I finally make my girl happy too. She steps back, and my body jolts. An inferno blazing through me from her glorious breasts and sweet pussy on display. Baring herself to me unintentionally with the slick

tie dangling loose around her narrow hips. As stunned as I am, she remains motionless except for the shaking engulfing her. Shocked with her chest heaving up and down. Only her harsh breaths breaking the silence. My toes squeeze inside my shoes. Clutching this tight rope we seem to be walking. A fall for either of us would break so much more than our bones. But I’ll be damned if I allow her to be ashamed or afraid. “My god princess, you’re absolutely gorgeous.” “Really?” I’m on fucking fire with the astonishment pulsing in her whisper. Wanting nothing more than to fall to my knees in adoration and show her how glorious she truly is. “Yes.” “He never told me that before.” I hate talking about this asshole. Despise him for being here with us. But his brutality is all she knows. His cruelty is all she can compare anything to. I’m going to fucking love destroying any bullshit doubt that heartless bastard instilled in her right fucking now. “He should have. Over and over. Because you are so unbelievably beautiful.” “He made me feel ugly.” Motherfucker. The honesty’s too much, and she wraps the crimson fabric tight across her body. Protecting herself from any more anguish. Hiding herself from any possible criticism. “He was a

fucking fool for never appreciating what he had.” Wrong. I know this is so fucking wrong. She’s vulnerable. Exposed. Fragile. But I can’t fucking help myself. I can’t hold back anymore. “Because when you become my wife, I’m going to spend every fucking minute showing you how magnificent you are.” A storm brews in her enormous chocolate eyes. The gold specks flaming with lust and love and need. Mimicking the fire blazing through me. I have to have her. I give in to what we both want. Hopeful she doesn’t regret our weakness later. I cup her cheeks and lower my head to hers. So fucking slow to give her every chance. Every out. Every refusal. But all I see is desire. All I feel is her reaching up to me. All I hear is her sputter of quick breaths as her pink lips part for me. So I do it. I take the fall and kiss her. Not chaste. Not innocent. But genuine and honest and fucking mind blowing. Her soft, wet mouth welcomes me, a tentative tongue following mine as I sweep inside. Letting me lead, yet eager for the pleasure we’re both chasing. Encouraging me to thrust deeper with the faint mews vibrating in her throat. Small fingers wrap around my wrists tucked on each side of her chin, and I freeze. Already terrified

I’ll consume her, I refuse to push her for more. Unwilling to intimidate her with the fear of me being out of control. Of her not having absolute power over our intimacy. I pull back, brushing my lips with hers. Which now lift with a sated smile. The vise on my heart loosens. She’s not panicked. She’s content. Just like I am. “You’re way too tempting not to kiss.” She flushes with modesty and her gaze falls away. “I didn’t know I was a temptation.” “Fuck yes angel. You most definitely are.” I caress her heated cheek to prevent myself from going too far again. “But I need to get you fed. Are you hungry?” “I’m starving.” “Me too.” “I can’t wait for you to show me everything you like.” Jesus. I don’t think my balls can get any bluer. But then she says shit like that I feel them creep up another inch deeper into my body. I entwine her hand and lead her into the kitchen. “Me too princess. Me too.”

I take another long slow pull of my cock. Pleasure scrambled with pain because I’m not jacking off to my imagination any more. Because I’ve finally seen what I only dreamed about. Drank from her what I always knew would taste like fucking heaven. Now I need to feel her. All of her. Her perfect tits. Round and pert and small. But plump too. Enough to fill my palms. More than enough to fill my mouth after I’ve tugged and massaged and stroked until her sweet little nipples are stiff and pulsing between my teeth. And that pussy. That fucking glorious pussy. My grip tightens, my fist pumping harder and harder from the thought of those silky pink lips. So fucking smooth and glossy and delicate. Just the right height for me to drop to my knees and worship them. For my tongue to lap them, sucking in her throbbing clit until she comes. Flooding my mouth with her essence. Squeezing my face with her thighs while she spasms. Whispering my name in pure ecstasy.

Because I already know she’s not a screamer. No, my princess is too dainty and elegant to let go like that. But I want her to. Fuck do I want her to. Lose control and let me be the man who makes her moan and thrash and beg. For me. For my cock. For more. Until she fucking flies. And I fucking experience all her bliss. Nobody but me. Now or ever again. My balls seize up, and I explode all over the tile. Hot thick spurts that rain down without restraint. Doing nothing to relieve the ache slowly building again when I open my eyes, still picturing her standing in front of me without the robe this time. Fuck me. I remain at half-mast while I finish washing and dry off. Pulling on a tee shirt with my fleece joggers before I brush my teeth. Surprised how little sleep I got last night with her finally here after a sleepless month without her. At least she slept well. Never stirring the three times I checked on her like a meddling pussy ass bitch. But there’s no way in hell I’d let her be afraid with me only twenty feet away. Totally fucking worth any exhaustion to take care of my princess. Who tantalizes me more than I can almost stand. Somehow I managed to keep my hands to myself during dinner last night much to my cock’s very obvious annoyance. Especially when she

clutched my hand and giggled her glorious carefree laugh when I shared embarrassing stories about my fuck ups while building this house. Or when her thigh skimmed against mine while I showed her how to measure corn meal and water for the muffins. Or, she leaned on my shoulder as I washed the cast iron soup pot, gliding her slim fingers through the bubbles to find the ladle sinking to the bottom. Fuck even her bare feet made me rock hard while I walked her to her bedroom door and gave her a peck on the cheek like a fucking middle school punk on his first date. But the bed and shower and mirror were too damn close. I’d never be able to resist her if I followed her inside. Otherwise, I’d only been able to think about taking her in all three places. Again and again until she taped out. I wouldn’t have even wanted to stop then because I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough of her. I power down my laptop to ensure she doesn’t catch a glimpse of my screen. The reminder of the results from my research last night crushes my burgeoning erection in a heartbeat. I know fucking Google doesn’t replace a real psychiatrist but when you find the same information multiple times that seems to match her situation, there has to be some kernel of truth embedded in the suppositions. As much as a comparison can be made I guess.

Plenty of depressing situations describing the behavior of girls orphaned at a young age. Not quite as many scenarios regarding girls whose parents are murdered and she’s kept isolated for six years and then abused by her fucking mafia crime lord husband for another three. My fury erupts again. Should have been fucking zero if I’d realized sooner what the fuck was going on. Both her father and me to blame for that. He may be gone, but I’ll fucking spend the rest of my life making that mistake up to her. Piecing together everything I’ve read boils down to one sad, simple fact. She has no confidence in herself because she has no confidence in anyone else. Including me. Yet. Desperate for approval and affection and attention because the people who were supposed to take care of her couldn’t, and the man who could have, fucking didn’t. Bastard. So I have to accept the fact my naïve plan is a fucking horrible failure. That I’ve gone about the situation all wrong. She can’t accept freedom until she feels safe. Until she believes in the unwavering foundation I create for her. Until she trusts in me. My entire career —hell my entire life —I’ve had to flex. Deviate. Improvise. Implement plan B and C and D because crime bosses and drug lords and victims themselves don’t always act rationally or as expected. I can do that now with her. Keep

my focus on the end game. Regardless of what she throws at me. Because no matter what she’s going to be my wife. My children’s mother. My happy ending. Okay, now that I’m done fantasizing like a bitch ass pussy, I need to check on my sleeping beauty. I miss her. Fuck, I really am a fucking pansy bitch. I’m still chuckling as I slowly push open her door. Not wanting to startle her if she’s not awake yet. My humor fades with my laugh and disgust burns my chest. She’s awake. Sitting on the side of the bed. Dressed and ready. With a gorgeous smile that lights up her face. Ecstatic to see me. While I’m devastated to see her trapped in here by nothing but her own fear. Fuck. “Good morning!” “Good morning. What’re you doing, angel?” The mattress flexes from her eagerness. Bounding with energy, yet she doesn’t rise. Not without permission. “Waiting for you.” Calm and patient. She doesn’t know until I explain it to her. Doesn’t need to endure my exasperation from that bastard’s irrational constraints on her. “You didn’t have to wait.” She points toward the entryway, confusion pinching her eyebrows closer together. “But you shut the door.” Good damn it. I should rip the damn thing off its hinges. “That was my mistake. You can leave

this room whenever you want. You can go any place you want in the house. Nothing’s off limits. Okay?” Disbelief. Disapproval. Disappointment. Her grip on the comfort loosens despite the uncertainties spinning on her face. “Okay.” Only my hand offered to her lifts her up to her feet. “We’ll grab a quick breakfast and then go shopping. I wasn’t sure when I would get you back, so I don’t have a lot of perishables in the house.” Her feet don’t follow me when I step forward. “You were planning this?” “I wasn’t going to leave you at Dante’s mercy that’s for damn sure.” She flinches from my tension and my terse tone. Reminding me to hide my fury from her. Only concentrate on freeing her for the future. Not trapping her to the past that binds her. “I staked out the church every day waiting for you to return. I wasn’t giving up on you.” “I knew you cared about me, but I never imagined…” Her body leans into me to me. Almost involuntarily. Drawn toward me and the devotion I convey to her. “If you didn’t go to church, then I would have stormed the house. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have done to get you.” “You could have been killed!” Now it’s her turn to be upset. Worried for me.

Which is fucking hot to see her concerned about my safety. “So could you. That’s why it was my last resort. I would never willingly take a chance and endanger you. I would never hurt you.” “Not like Arturo.” “No, not like Arturo.” I need to know what else I’m protecting her from. “Not Dante either.” The mention of his name dims the remaining light in her expression. Replaced with fear. Damn it. Incapable of stopping myself from asking her what I suspect. “Did he touch you?” “No.” Thank fucking god her single word whisper reflects what I hoped. But something else frightens her. From what she implied at the diner. My patience has run out. Unable and unwilling to ignore any longer the impact that motherfucker has on her. The bastard’s proclamation of love not enough to sway her from being troubled from the other things he said to her. “He did something to scare you? Something he said?” She nods. Responding immediately without prompting after hearing the dominating voice. I’m a sick bastard for manipulating her. For wielding this power over her but I can’t have her reluctance keep her from being honest. There’s too much danger, too much at stake, for her not to tell me everything. “He was having a special room built in the

house. He said he loved me, and that he would show me how his greatest pleasure would come from my greatest pain.” Her perplexed cocoa eyes finally meet mine. “But I don’t think that’s love. Do you?” Good. So fucking good she’s knows the difference. “No I don’t. Not at all. That’s why you’re here with me and not with him.” Well him or with anyone else. Because you’re mine, and this is permanent angel. I hold out my arm yet she still hesitates. Tugging on the sky blue cable sweater she pairs with black leggings and crisp white tennis shoes. The college-age girl at the boutique recommended them to me when my confusion was more than obvious. Abundantly clear that I had no idea what the hell I was doing. Except I’m well aware it’s too damn cold for the thin dresses and high heels she normally wears. “This is all I could find after you told me to put on the clothes you left for me. Are they okay?” “Do you like them?” She smiles, running a small hand over one of the thick cords again. “Oh yes. Very much.” “Good, then they’re okay.” This time she accepts my arm as well as me leading her over the threshold into the hallway. Another small triumph as she navigates her new life. “You look great too.” A charming blush spreads over her raised cheeks. Both of us smiling now.

“Thank you.” In the kitchen, I motion toward the closest stool at the table in the alcove and yank open one of the birch cabinet doors, the smooth wood polished to almost a golden sheen. Although the virtually empty interior isn’t quite as pleasure inducing. “Sorry my choices are limited angel. I’ve got protein bars in two flavors: seeds and sea salt or granola drizzled with honey. What would you prefer?” “You don’t have newspapers for me?” I spin around from the question to my question. She twists herself, searching the countertops, table, and bookshelves tucked above the small wet bar. “No, I’m sorry I don’t. But if you want them, I can get them. It’s your choice to read them or not.” Now she scans me just as thoroughly. Probably wondering why I keep deviating from her normal routine. “Your rules are so different from Arturo’s.” I slowly sit the boxes on the granite. Fighting once again to keep my expression neutral and my words about us. “I don’t have any rules.” Frowning as she mulls that over. Before slowing nodding. Her face smooths in acceptance. “Except one.” She’s got me. So fucking perceptive and smart. “Yeah, that’s right. You stay here with me.” “To keep me safe.”

God that fucking whisper. That pure expression. Fuck breakfast. All I want to do is lay her back on the table and feel her sweetness surrounding my cock. “Always princess.” “I’ll take the granola please.” Yes, focus on eating food. Rather than her naked and drenched in honey for me to lick off. I hand over the bar, brushing her fingertips with mine. Confirming all is well between us. She peels back the wrapper and pulls off a small bite, nodding with approval after she tastes the oats and almonds. “I heard noises early this morning. I thought maybe you were boxing.” I love the way she hints that she wants me to work with her again. Still too timid to ask but I definitely didn’t forget. Especially her damn selfloathing. That I’m going to eliminate for her. “No, I was running on the treadmill. You don’t think I’d glove up without you, do you?” Dread flickers in her face, misunderstanding my teasing, and she carefully lays her food on the counter. Smoothing down the wrinkled foil. Her body tenses, and she scoots back against her seat. Preparing for anger from her inquiry. “I—I’m sorry. I know I’m not supposed to question you or what you do. It’s not my business.” A creepy robotic quality to her tone that steals my appetite too. Apologies on repeat from more of Arturo’s fucking bullshit. “You can ask me

anything. I was just going to say I’m sorry if I woke you up. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Her shoulders soften from my exoneration that she doesn’t need but desires just the same. “Oh no, you didn’t. I was awake already.” “Good.” I tap her nibbled breakfast to remind her to eat. “And tomorrow when you get up and leave your room whenever you want to, then we’ll box again.” I’m rewarded with a huge smile that eliminates my tension too. Finally some progress.

Our cart isn’t very full for two people with empty cupboards and a barren refrigerator. Milk, rib-eyes, bundle of asparagus, and a double container of strawberries. All chosen by me since she only responds with agreement to whatever I want. When what I really want is to give to her whatever the fuck she wants. I check my frustration. This is the first time she’s even been to a super market. Proven by her immense fascination with the registers, endless aisles of boxes, bottles, and cans, and the rich smells of frying chicken, baking donuts, and brewing coffee wafting through the air. Much different than reading about grocery shopping in

books. Grabbing bananas and a bunch of red grapes, I nod toward the crates of melons. “Don’t forget your cantaloupe.” A frown lines her forehead, and her cute nose pinches up. But her lips remain pursed together. Finally I get a reaction other than deference to my suggestions. A fucking grand improvement I love. “It’s okay. You can speak up. What’s wrong?” “I don’t like cantaloupe.” Every day. Every single god damn fucking day for the three months I was there. And probably for the years before I came. I’m sure I know the answer but I still have to ask. “Why didn’t you tell Arturo?’ She strokes across the cuff of my jacket sleeve. Piled next to her coat in the child seat. “I did.” Motherfucker. I force a smile because god damn it this bastard will not ruin something as mundane as buying food. “Then what would you like instead?” I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so shocked. Her sweet mouth actually opens almost as wide as her eyes. “I—I can pick something?” “Princess, you can have anything and everything you want.” Her gaze swivels across the shelves. Slow and intense. Scanning every single item in view before

she turns back to me. “May I have some brownies please?” Fuck me. She still asks. Refusing to just take. Her low voice wobbling with angst and distrust. That would probably break with flustered apologies for asking if I denied her. Which I will never fucking do. “Sure. Let’s head to the baking section.” I swear to god she practically skips alongside me. Almost childlike in her excitement. Which is how she seems sometimes. Making me feel like a dirty bastard. Older in years and wiser in experience, I’m practically preying on someone so young and ingenuous. Rare guilt flows through me. But not enough to make me change my mind. Never enough to make me let her go. “I’d watch Mrs. Wilson make them sometimes, and I always wondered if they taste as good as they smell.” She’s lit up like she’s won the fucking lottery over fucking baked goods. Not realizing at all that she should already fucking know exactly what fucking brownies should taste like. My fingers ache from clutching the metal handle so tightly. No one deserves the fucked up life she was sentenced to. I wheel into the desserts area, bypassing the cookies and cake mixes. Still leaving a good twenty-five options for her to choose from. Her steps slow, and she scans each box, carefully

reading the labels. The choices too overwhelming as her eyes roam from dark chocolate to salted caramel to blondie. Fuck that shit. My girl deserves everything she wants. “How about one of each?” Her pleased little gasp jolts my balls harder than the Taser used on me during the break in at that Columbian drug lord’s compound searching for the judge’s missing daughter. I grab all three flavors and chuck them into the basket. “Any others you want to try?” “We can’t Roan! It’s too much!” I ignore the twinge of disappointment from her calling me by my alias name. I can’t spoil the fun because I’m a pansy ass with hurt feelings. “Hell no it’s not too much. You can never have too many brownies.” Giggling from my wink as well as my teasing, she glances back to the shelf. Her gaze flicks to the butterscotch but she holds back. “Get it angel.” Another shopper strolls past, grabbing a package without even stopping. Not sure if it’s my encouragement or his nonchalance, but Viviana snatches up the family size container and clutches the treat to her chest as if someone will yank the goodies away from her. They’d have to fucking kill me first before I’d let that happen. “Thank you so much.” I like to think I’m a hard ass but her shiny eyes fucking slay me like a bitch. To be that excited —

that emotional —about choosing her own dessert. Probably the first time ever in her entire twentyone years. “You’re welcome.” I wait for her to toss her prize into the cart but she doesn’t. Just cradles the red and gold box as protectively as a mother with her newborn child. Almost in disbelief to have something so precious in her arms. We spend the next fifteen minutes shopping. Well I select items, and she nods. But that fucking glorious smile never leaves her beautiful face. Shining even brighter when I show her how to scan our purchases at the checkout and drop them into the cheap ass plastic bags that either won’t separate or rip too easily. “I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun.” Fucking sad buying groceries is this exciting for her. I hand her the sacks with the brownies inside them, loving her thrilled expression when she peeks at the boxes one last time while I finish paying. “What about the galas and balls you went to. I know you said you liked to dance.” “That part was nice. But Arturo always had so many people to talk to, most of the time I was by myself waiting for him to come back.” Unease spikes in my gut as we venture outside. From her words as well as not being able to touch her, with both our hands occupied with toting our provisions. I should have thought this through

better. I hate being vulnerable, hate fucking exposing her to any risk. My plan was flawless. I couldn’t have asked for the execution to go any smoother. But I scan the parking lot anyway. Fairly empty for a Wednesday morning. A frazzled woman with three little kids jumping all around vying for her attention, and an older couple, the wife checking off her list while her husband shuffles beside her, leaning heavily on his black cane. The lack of apparent danger does nothing to alleviate my agitation, and I scoot closer to her. So close her bag bangs against my leg while we walk, and she questions me with a perplexed expression. Unwilling to worry her, I keep our conversation going. “What about the people at your table? The other women?” “They didn’t like me.” All I can see is her long dark hair as she climbs into the Jeep, but I’m sure her face is as impassive as her flat tone. So numb to the heartache that would devastate anyone else. A coping mechanism I hate, and experience with her too damn often. “Why would you say that?” “They never talked to me. Just to each other. Even in the ladies room. They would be talking and laughing at the sinks. But then it would get quiet as soon as I stepped inside. When I came out of my stall they were always gone. I chased everyone

away.” Or your bastard husband did. Fucker. I wait for her to buckle her seatbelt and turn back to me. Wishing I could permanently eliminate all the worthlessness she carries because of him. “I doubt that was because of you.” A shrug. Such an enormous burden behind that small gesture. Saddled with so much self-loathing she can’t comprehend that what I say is actually true. I gently push the door closed and load our stuff in the back. Slamming down the tailgate harder than I should. Taking my frustration out on my vehicle to keep the annoyance from her. Relief flows through me when she reaches for my hand as soon as I slide into my seat. For as shitty as her emotional state should be, I’m fucking grateful she hasn’t shut me out completely. Resurrecting my optimism that she can let me love her. “I even tried to volunteer once to help with one of the fundraisers. I was so excited, but they never called me. Which was probably for the best. Arturo was really upset with me. He didn’t like me to be away from home.” Yeah, I guess that’s a nice yet fucked up way to describe his obsession. I don’t even want to fucking know how he punished her for offering to help. Instead, I attempt to eradicate the consequences of his torture. “Did you ever think they were

intimidated by Arturo? That maybe they were scared to talk to you because of him?” Her head shakes. Definitive in her conviction. “He always said they hated me because I was stupid and annoying and–“ Fucking motherfucker. “No angel. None of what he said is true. I know that for a fact.” Small fingers squeeze mine. Uncertain if she reassures me or herself. Although I hate —fucking hate —hearing how he tormented her so much, the glimpses she shares reveal more than just the obvious abuse. Sparking the realization that his isolation from the rest of the world created the only reality she knows. His words and his fists reflect the only image she sees of herself. Me telling her differently isn’t enough. I need her to hear the truth from other people.

“Want to know a secret?” Ever so slowly as not to spook her, I slide my hands around her small waist and nuzzle the side of her delicate throat. Easily accessible now with her long hair bundled in a ponytail low on her neck while she works. Fuck me if she doesn’t shiver from my whisper in her ear. “What?” “The batter tastes even better than the brownies.” “But you’re not supposed to eat it raw.” A short pink nail taps the bold letters on the cardboard. All wound up and adorable with her adamancy. “It says it right here.” “I like living dangerously.” I swipe my finger through the lumpy chocolate and bring the dollop to my mouth. She twists around in shock. My little rule follower can’t believe I’m so flippant about the risk. Huge eyes grow even bigger when I suck in the sweetness. “You should try it.”

“I can’t.” “Sure you can.” I should stop. I should let her be. Let her enjoy her baking and the simple pleasures of learning how to pre-heat the oven and crack eggs for the very first time. But I just can’t seem to help myself. Not when I’m too damn happy she’s here and so blissfully content. “You’ll love it angel.” I slowly brush my damp finger across her lips, leaving a slight streak. A growl rumbles deep in my throat when her tongue follows the same path and licks the delicate rosy skin clean. “Want more?” A hard swallow bobbles in her graceful throat before she nods, and I bring another taste to her open mouth. Fuck me if she holds my gaze, drawing me in between her plump lips. Inside her hot wet luscious mouth that I can’t resist any more. Slow and gentle, I lean closer. Curling my other hand behind her head, I replace my finger with my tongue. Edging along the same trail before plunging inside. Rich and decadent and mine. Jesus. Another primal growl rips through my chest when her fingers ball in my shirt. Holding me tight. Keeping me close. Preventing me from stopping. Fuck that. I won’t quit until she tells me to. Soft. She’s so fucking soft and sweet. And I’m so fucking hard and hungry it hurts. But I hold back. Hiding the ferocious craving behind my gentle touch. Treating her like the princess she is.

She responds with a restrained moan when I angle my head to sweep deeper inside until she finally pulls away. Giving me a few gentle pecks while we pant the same air. “I like it when you kiss me.” There’s so much more I want to do to you angel when you’re ready. I lay my forehead against hers. “I like it when you kiss me back.” “I’m sorry I wrinkled your fleece.” No fear. Sincere but without even an ounce of terror in her voice that I’ll be mad. That I give a damn about my pullover. Thank fucking god. We’re still making progress. “No worries. It’s an old one.” She tugs the silver tab on my chest and glides the zipper up an inch. “But you look very handsome in it.” Fucking hell. I think she’s actually trying to flirt with me. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” She points to the waiting pan. A smooth, flawless surface except for the two divots from my swiping. “I guess it’s time to put them into the oven. Unless you want more.” Fuck princess, I want it all. “No, I’ll be good. For now.” I wink again just to make her blush before she turns around, and I enjoy the view of her cute ass as she bends to slide our dessert into the oven. “Okay, twenty-eight to thirty-two minutes.” She looks up from reading the final instructions. “What

do you want to do while we wait?” My balls are screaming for mercy. Begging for relief from this innocent creature. I need a distraction. We both need a distraction. “Have you ever played poker?” Excitement rolls through her expression as her face lights up. “No.” “Then it’s time for you to learn.” And give me something else to focus on besides your temptation. I entwine her fingers with mine and lead her to my office. “I think I have some cards in my desk.” I rifle through the mostly empty drawers, strangely reflective of my hollow life. That I never realized before. Until now. Until this tiny beauty watching me with a jubilant smile moved in. Funny how much my life has changed —fucking improved —in less than twenty-four hours. Nothing. Maybe they’re in the curio in the den. I point to the console table under the flat screen. “Will you look in there please? I’m going to check the other place they might be. I’ll be right back.” The memory hits me as I’m jogging down the hallway. I last used the set when I was waiting for my flight out to end the bastard who thought kidnapping a newborn would bring his father to his knees. Luckily I brought him to his death before any harm could come to the baby. I head to the front closet and grab my backpack. Bingo. My heart continues to pound when I return to

my office. No longer from the memory but from the exquisite woman engrossed in the mementos I begrudgingly displayed from my Mom’s nagging, I mean encouragement. I step next to Viviana as she studies my college diploma. “I’m surprised I even graduated the way I jacked around.” Her petite body jolts from my voice, and she spins around, knocking several photos from the wall in her frenzy. Unadulterated terror on her face as she hugs the drywall, Shirking away from me as the frames tumble to the carpet. “I’m sorry…You said…I didn’t mean….” Damn. Damn. Damn. I hold up my palms in surrender, reminding her I pose no danger, and shake my head. Somehow managing a reassuring smile. If I’m calm, she’s calm. Hopefully. “Nothing to be sorry about. You can look at them all you want.” At her slight nod, I slowly bend down and swipe the pictures from the floor. Holding them out for her to see, I tap on the top image. A rarity for the entire family to be together at one time, let alone all the guys dressed up in tuxedos. “This is Grant. He’s the oldest. Then me.” I point to the other smiling faces. Drunk on mischief and the open bar, everyone captured by the photographer in a genuinely carefree moment. “Then Amos, and the twins, Cory and Kyle, are the youngest.” A trembling finger floats above the glass as if

she’s still afraid to touch the surface, and she points to my Mom and Dad, both of their faces flushed from the abundance of champagne. “Are these your parents?” “Yeah, Mike and Cheryl.” “They seem really happy.” “Well weddings usually are happy occasions.” Her burgeoning smile fades, and the darkness from Arturo’s bullshit shrouds her again. The light flickering off in her eyes. “For most people I guess, but not you.” She shakes her head. A fact no one would deny. “He doesn’t hit her?” I feel like I’ve been fucking punched myself from her inquiry. “No, he would never do that.” I slowly drift to each of my brothers. All of us asses sometimes in our own right, but not in the way she worries about. “They don’t hit either. Most men don’t.” I lose her for a few seconds with my assertion. Difficult for her to believe because all she knows is that husbands beat their wives. The war between the suggestion and her reality battles on her face as she processes the disconnect. “Our wedding will be happy.” My proclamation draws her back to the present. To us and no one else. Even though her gaze remains on the memories I hold in my hand. “You keep saying things like that.”

“Because it’s true.” Long hair hides her face but her shoulders lift to her ears. Conveying the skepticism tensing her body. “I don’t know why you would want to marry me. I’m–” “Amazing.” Pre-emptive strike because I refuse to let her disparage herself. “You’ve endured so much and yet you’re still here. You haven’t given up. I mean you blow my mind princess how resilient you are. That you’re so fucking tough inside that tiny body.” Quiet as always when I praise her. Only hugs herself while I lift up my degree, letting my words sink in. Hopefully deep enough to last. “I earned a football scholarship and had a pretty good chance of going pro until I got one too many concussions. I settled for a degree in athletic training so I could at least still be involved with the team. All the partying without all the pain of practice.” Her head bobs again. Maybe she doesn’t know what practice is. Maybe she’s still too tangled in her own knot of confusion to ask. I slide out the photo underneath. “This is from my graduation ceremony. Hard to believe that was twelve years ago.” “You look like your Mom.” “Yeah, just so you know, a guy really doesn’t want to hear that he looks like a woman.” Finally, she giggles. Humoring me despite my lame joke. Always so kind for someone treated so

maliciously. I hook the picture back on the nail and slide out my phone. “I think we need to add a few more.” My first ever selfie. Hers too from the inquisitive study of the screen when I lift up the cell. I angle her between my legs and dip down so our cheeks touch. “There we are…smile angel.” God she’s fucking beautiful. I swear I can even see her halo in the reflection. “Perfect. I’ll have a print made and we’ll display it right there.” Her gorgeous smile wobbles when I drum my knuckles against the plaster. Curling her lips together as emotion floods her face. I shove my phone back in my pocket and cup her wet cheeks. Not sure how I fucked up, but I will, by god, fix whatever I’ve done wrong. “Fuck princess. Why are you crying?” “I’m going to be part of a family.” Happy tears. My girl cries tears of joy. Damn. My body softens against hers, and I wrap my arms around her, kissing her silky hair under my chin. “You already are, and they’re going to love you just as much as I do.” She snuggles in but stays quiet. Maybe not ready to accept my inadvertent declaration of love. But that’s okay. We’ve got plenty of time for me to convince her. “I thought maybe we’d have them over sometime once you get settled.” Delicate arms squeeze me tighter. I’ll take that as a yes. One more connection I want to build for

her. “What about your degree?” Stepping back from my embrace, she nods. Earnest and proud of her accomplishment that I know she worked hard to earn rather than me who barely scraped by. “I have my bachelor’s in international studies. I mean I wasn’t allowed to go on campus to take classes. I had to take them all on line, but I earned a four-point-o. I think it still counts.” I hate the question in her tone. “Hell yeah it counts.” I nudge her shoulder with my own. Giving her an approving nod. “We’ll get a copy of your diploma and hang it up too.” Dainty fingers brush over the space next to mine. “Really? You’re going to hang it on your wall?” “Our wall.” Damn her blush is adorable. “I’m impressed by your major. That’s a tough subject. What made you pick it?” “I thought someday I might get to travel the world. Maybe see some of the places I read about.” She shakes her head. As if the idea is too preposterous to ever happen. When, whether she realizes the error or not, she is so unbelievably mistaken. “If you could go anywhere, where would you choose?” “Florence. I’d love to visit where my mother grew up.”

Not even a second of hesitation. Obvious she’s thought about this visit a lot. Probably dreamed about the trip for years. Now I’m going to fucking love making her dream come true. “Done.” Her squeak of laughter expresses her disbelief. “You’re silly.” Nope, not at all. I’m in love and want to make you happy. “I’m serious. We’ll check out some travel websites and make our plans. Anything you want. It’ll be the perfect honeymoon.” I’m grinning like a fucking fool too. Because I love making her excited. Giving her something wonderful to look forward to, just like I am. Fucking stoked by the fact that I’m going to give her all the things that bastard never could. Never would. Except maybe he did. Maybe he did, and then he fucking ruined it for her. And I’ll overcome all of that bullshit too. Replace everything he destroyed with our memories for our wall and stories for our kids.

I glance at my watch again. She’s been in there for fifteen minutes. I know she’s safe, and I’m in no hurry because, here with her, is the only place I ever want to be. But I don’t like her stalling. Hiding from me. Or herself. I rap on the louvered white

door. “Are you okay?” “Yes. I just…” “What?” “I was trying on the panties.” Jesus. My princess wearing nothing but panties. I barely hear her shy admission and hope she doesn’t hear my chuckle from her awkwardness. I’d never want to hurt her feelings. “Do they fit?’ “Yes.” “Good, then we’ll get them all. Now show me the sweater dress when you’re ready.” Only a few seconds pass before the silver handle twists down and she steps out. Her gaze flicking from the hardwood floor to me and back again waiting for my appraisal. Fuck me. She’s gorgeous as always. I don’t know jack shit about fashion but the rich olive fabric complements her dark hair and eyes. Skimming over her elegant curves while remaining surprisingly demure, covering her from the cowl neck, down to the hem brushing her black boots. “You look beautiful.” She beams from my compliment and twists and turns, checking herself out from all angles. God would l love to fuck her in that three-way mirror. Her perfect tits smashed against the glass while I take her from behind. Buried deep inside her wet pussy with my fingers stroking the silky petals of her clit and her moaning in my ear. Shaking my head, I stifle a growl. Fuck, I need to get myself

together. “What do you think?” “I love it. Do you think it will be okay for the party?” “It’ll be perfect.” Despite her need for additional clothes, I swear she’s more excited about the lodge event than the shopping itself. Her smile never wavering after we read the flyer pinned to the community board as we walked along the cobblestone sidewalk through the town plaza. Advertising the tailgate-style party to watch the weekend’s college basketball tournament. Providing the perfect reason to get together and enjoy brews and brats and all kinds of other junk food snacks and drinks. Rewarding me with a gigantic hug when I asked her if she wanted to go. Probably the exact opposite of the fancy hors d’oeuvres and expensive champagne she’s used to. Somehow I have the feeling she’ll enjoy chili and hot wings even more. She returns to her dressing room, and I drop to my seat again. Trying not to be too conspicuous as I adjust the increasing discomfort in my jeans. Knowing my attempts to conceal my desire are pointless. With the constant thoughts of her in her thong at this little boutique and the sports bras at the athletic store and cuddling during a cozy dinner at the newly opened French bistro, circling in my head, I’ve been tempted again and again. Enduring all of her enticement, only to end the night alone in

my bed. Yet worth all the torture knowing she’ll be here when I wake. Which continues to amaze me she’s even here at all. When I planned her rescue I never imagined she would adapt so easily and we’d be visiting the little shops I never had any interest in before. Planning to go to mass on Sunday from the church I found for her. Acting like a fucking girl and taking selfies. I grab one of the bags sitting next to my bench and slide out the frame. I’m still fucking awed to have a woman this unbelievable. Not just physical. I mean yeah she’s fucking stunning. But so sweet yet resilient. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so damn perfect. “Roan?” And there goes my cock again. I return the photo to the sack and shoot up, along with my curious dick, and stride toward her soft voice. “Yeah, angel?” “I just want to say…” Her dainty feet flex on the other side of the flimsy plywood. The only part of her gorgeous body that’s visible. Which makes me want to bust through and see her delicate face too. But I force myself to hold back. She keeps the barrier between us for a reason and as much as I fucking hate the obstruction, I need to give her the distance she requests. “…I wanted to tell you that I’m glad you didn’t take me back.” God fucking damn. Shock bolts through me like

electricity. So much meaning behind her simple admission. Defying the guilt that I know she carries with her. Deciding to actually be happy, with what she wants rather than what she thinks her father demands. Distinguishing between me forcing her to be here and her choosing to stay. God I fucking love my brave princess. “I’m glad too.” I swear I can feel her smile. Her little feet disappear from view, and I resume my waiting. Ready for the fashion show to continue. Wishing I could be stripping her down now rather than waiting while she covers herself up.

I startle when my eyes flick open, and I fly up from the mattress. After months of waking up to a textured white ceiling, it takes me a second to get my bearings and remember I’m home when I catch sight of my hand-cut wooden planks. I slept hard, way better than the night before. I guess my relaxed princess relaxes me too. Well, kind of relaxed. With regard to the impact of fucking Arturo’s bullshit on her mental state, yes. With regard to the party tonight, that’s a fucking hell no. She’s beyond excited, and hung on my every word as I explained the rules of the game and the bracket system for the tournament. Already picked who she’s going to root for despite never having watched a sporting event in her entire life. But my girl’s sharp and after analyzing the stats like a pro, she made a good choice. I sure as hell hope she’s not disappointed. In her team or the tailgate. No one deserves to have fun more than her. I skip the shower and pull on a tee shirt and

shorts after I scrub my face and brush my teeth. My girl wants to box, so we’re going to box. Maybe we’ll lift weights too. No reason she can’t be gorgeous and strong. In the kitchen, I grab two waters from the fridge while dread thumps in my chest not to see her in the living room either. I know I left her bedroom door open. Fucking shit if she’s going to feel trapped in her own damn house. A glance in my office and the den proves pointless. Maybe she’s already in the workout room. Probably not. Damn it. I hustle to her room and of course she’s there. Standing at the window. Glowing from the sunlight streaming in just like the angel she is. And I’m the fucking devil for getting hard from her barefoot and wearing only tiny black shorts and a periwinkle sports bra. Fuck me. “Good morning, princess.” Her smile when she turns around is fucking brighter than the golden streaks behind her. God I love her. “Good morning!” She races to me. Her small feet soundless on the thick carpet. “I was enjoying the view. It’s so beautiful here.” Only a partial lie. It is beautiful but the scenery isn’t what holds her back. I kiss her temple and drag her against me. Needing to reassure both of us we’re okay. We’re making progress regardless of how slow or small. “I’m glad you like your new home.”

She kisses my chest, and I’ve never wished harder that I was naked. But that’s a dangerous trail of thought so I return my attention to our activity. “Your punching bag awaits angel.” That riles her up and she grabs my hand, leading me this time down the hall and up the steps into the bonus room over the garage. Hotter than fuck to see her taking charge. “Do you remember what I told you before?” She nods, deep and resolute while I glove her up. Bouncing side to side on her tiptoes. Once I tighten the band at her slender wrist, I step to the side and tap the vinyl a little lower than her eye level. “The cheek. You hit here, while you hold your other hand up by your nose guarding your face. When your arm gets tired then switch. Got it?” “Yes.” “Put your right foot out about six inches so you can follow through with your swing. When you switch arms, then switch your lead foot too.” “Okay.” “Then you’re ready to go. Have at it.” Another strong head bob, and she gives the bag a gentle nudge. Then another and another and harder and harder until she’s really pounding away. Fuck me if she’s not doing a great job with protecting herself too. “Perfect angel. Keep going.” I hover nearby in case she needs my help but

fuck it’s all her. She’s a natural. Quick. Determined. Agile. Even though this is only her second bout, I can see the potential. I’d love to take her farther once her skills grow stronger. Maybe even spar with her but that feels wrong. Even if I wouldn’t actually strike her, I don’t think I could even pretend to for practice. Giving her more leeway, I back up, supervising but not interfering. Water beads speckle her forehead while huge drops run down her bare back. The waistband of her shorts already damp from her exertion. Fucking glorious. With nothing to do but wait, I head to the rack and grab a plate for triceps. Watching her in the mirror while I count my reps. Unaware I’ve moved away. My gut churns from her furrowed gaze, and I’m no longer sure any more if the moisture on her cheeks is sweat. Her lips move but I can’t make out the words. Over and over she repeats herself with each blow. I toss my weight on the mat and stride to her. Finally able to catch what she utters through wobbling lips. “I tried.” “I tried.” “I tried.” I don’t even think she realizes she’s crying. Unwilling to stand her tormenting herself for another second, I slide my hand in front of the bag and catch her fist. She jumps finally seeing me.

“Hey angel. I think it’s time to take a break.” “Oh…okay.” The daze engulfing her keeps her quiet. Distant while I lead her over to the bench and gently press her shoulders so she lowers down. Tucking her hands in her lap and crossing her legs at the ankles, shifting them to the side. Still a graceful and proper princess despite her heavy athletic gear and drenched body. Uncertain if I should ask or not, I crouch down in front of her and cautiously flip over her hand and unfasten her glove. These are the times I wish I paid more attention in psychology class. Or understood better what happened after my involvement in the rescue ended. The first time I’ve ever dealt with the aftermath of the victims’ experience. I’d save them physically, turning them back over to their loved ones to deal with the emotional healing. Always presuming I took care of the hardest part of problem. Now, with her, I realize how wrong that assumption was. Although a few days of captivity can’t compare to the years she endured. So, I try a neutral tact and see what happens. “What did you think?” “I like it.” As if mesmerized by my movements, she watches me gently tug the tip of each finger, stretching out the joints. The muscles probably aren’t overtaxed, but I never miss an opportunity to touch her and she seems to enjoy the soothing,

repetitive motion. The peaceful tenderness between us contrasting with the cold callousness she was treated with before. “Good. Do want to try some things we can do together?” That question whips up her head. An emotion I can’t read flashes across her face. Almost as if I’ve resurrected a memory that haunts her, the way she retreats back from me. “Do you mean…” Whatever she implies, she doesn’t like. So that will never, ever happen. I nod toward the metal rows lined against the wall. “Lift weights. I’ll show you, if you want. If you don’t, that’s okay too. No pressure.” She follows my line of sight, and I can feel her relax under my hands. Relief filling her nod and smoothing out her expression. “Yes, please. I’d like that.” “Me too.” I kiss the top of her head. Both of us needing some reassurance, even though my own body still coils tight wondering the meaning behind her words. Of the uncertainty I want to resolve for her, especially if her insecurity is about me. “We’ll start light and work up from there.” Grabbing a bar, I load on five pound weights on each side. “Some people prefer dumb bells but I think it’s easier to keep your form with a bar.” I motion for her to come to me, and she jumps up without any hesitation. A good sign. At least that’s what I want to believe. Unless it’s fear that makes

her so responsive. I push that aggravating thought out of my head. Concentrate on here and now. This moment with her. She returns my smile when I place the rod in her palms. So beautiful. “Keep your elbows immobile and use your muscles to slowly lift to your shoulders, squeezing right here through the movement.” I massage over her bare skin. Still slick from her earlier exertion. “Don’t rest when you get to the top, just slowly lower back down until you touch your thighs, squeezing your bicep again. This ensures you’re targeting the right area and getting the most benefit from your work out.” Probably telling her way more than she needs to know. Or cares to know at this point. Explaining the reason seems to give her control. To understand what she’s doing and why, rather than just following the demands of others. She seems to appreciate the description. Calm and relaxed while she focuses intently on her actions. I count out ten reps before we transition to a mixture of quick and slow movements with a few mid-range pulses inbetween. “You’re doing great, but I knew you would.” She basks in my praise. Grinning yet tilting her head to the side with modesty. Enticing me with her graceful throat that I want to nuzzle and nip at the delicate skin before working my way lower. “Okay, let’s get you a weight plate for triceps.”

Without prompting, she takes her bar to the rack and hangs the silver rod between the hooks. I fucking love seeing her so decisive. “A ten pound should be okay, but if not we’ll switch to an eightpound kettle bell.” I lift her arms and show her how to drop her hands behind her head. Clutching her elbows in the proper position to protect the joints. Standing close enough her minty breath blows on my cheek. Her sweet tits brush against my chest every time she lowers the weight to the base of her neck. Touching her so much is getting dangerous. I step back, pretending I trust her to keep going with the correct movements when it’s really me who I can’t trust any more. “Very nice angel.” My favorite smile flashes through her concentration, watching me watching her. “What about you? Don’t you want to work out too?” I love how she busts my balls and doesn’t even realize it. “What?” I raise my eyebrows, giving her an exaggerated frown. “You’re firing me as your trainer already? Who knew you were such a hard ass?” Her chin lifts, and she winks at me. Actually fucking winks at me. “I’m tiny but tough, remember.” I almost fucking weep like a pussy from her attempt at trash talk. My princess —the woman I know that’s trapped deep inside —is finding her

way out of the restraints that bind her. Snapping Arturo’s shackles so that more and more of her true self can emerge. “Oh, I definitely remember.” Grabbing my weight that I chucked away earlier, I hold the plate over my head mimicking her slow descent and rise from her shoulders to the ceiling. Exercising together in harmony which is a little strange but not unwelcome. Easy to get used to having a partner when she’s as stunning and eager as her. Gorgeous chocolate eyes meet mine in the mirror. Holding my gaze for a few seconds before returning to stare straight ahead. At least she’s a bit more brave. “How did you go from athletic training to being a mercenary?” Fair enough question. “I worked security at a few bars and clubs when I was in college so when I graduated I took a job with a security firm. When requests came in for the more dangerous assignments, I’d sign up. Higher stakes but much higher payout. I wasn’t married or have kids, so I could take the risk and enjoy the reward.” Nodding as if she understands. Yet concern lines her forehead, and she lowers her plate down to her stomach. Pondering something she’s too afraid to ask me. “What’s wrong?” “I’m scared. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Hell yes. I knew she cared about me too. But

hearing her say the words makes me giddy as fuck. I slide my weight to my side and caress her warm cheek with my free hand. “You don’t have to worry angel. I’ve got more money than we’ll ever need and now that I have you, I’m not planning on taking any more jobs.” Her shy smile fills my palm with relief that I feel all the way to my blue balls. Which are aching with the exact opposite of relief. “I’m going to work on my push-ups. Do you want to count for me?” Her head shakes. Shocking me hard. Which takes a hell of a lot anymore. “You don’t?” “I want to do them too.” Fuck me. Of course she does. Damn, my princess is a hard ass. And I’m a fucking chauvinist and should know better. “Then let’s do them together.” I drop down next to her on the mat and stretch out into position with her only inches away. A fucking glorious sight with her excitement. An energy flowing between us that makes me almost feel high. “Try a few on your toes. If it gets too hard, move to your knees.” Too late. She’s already knocked out two before I finish speaking. I better fucking catch up. We go for ten before she slows but I can see the resolve in her sweet face. She’ll collapse before she gives up. I love seeing her challenge herself. Proving to

herself and everyone else what she’s capable of. Because when you know you achieved your goals yourself, no one can take your accomplishments away from you. Her slight arms shake through the next six reps, straining to take over from her chest muscles starting to falter. Four more, and she crashes down. Her delicate face slamming into the pad. Which I fucking hate but before I can reach her she rolls over. An enormous smile accompanying her panting. “Twenty! I did twenty.” The pride on her face is fucking glorious. My own heart pounds in my chest from her selfsatisfaction. I hand walk over to her, and plank above her body, a palm on each side of her shoulder with both feet to one side of her. Unwilling to make her feel trapped. God she’s fucking beautiful. Long hair splayed around her flushed face. I dip down to give her a kiss. “You are awesome angel.” “What’re you doing?” “I’m not done yet.” She giggles against my lips when I drop down again. The best fucking accompaniment to my exercise. Again and again, I take her mouth with each rep. Her eyes fluttering shut when the intensity gets to be too much. I swear she squirms underneath me, seeking more while I raise and

lower. But I don’t know if she can really handle what she asks. “One hundred.” I glide onto my elbow and hip next to her. Not touching her anywhere. Despite how much I want to. Damn, I fucking want to. “Sit ups are next. Old school style then crunches. You up for it?” “I’m up for it.” Her eyes open slowly, drinking me in lying next to her. “But I’m not sure if my stomach muscles are.” Don’t do it. Don’t weaken under temptation. Don’t be an ass. But when she touches herself, stroking across her flat belly, I almost fucking lose it. I can’t control myself. My hand follows hers. Gliding over the satin skin. Trembling under my fingertips. Jolting when I brush across her too-prominent hip bone. “I’m sorry. It’s just that no one’s ever touched me there but Arturo.” I hate that motherfucker being here with us again. That he’ll always be a part of our intimacy, and I can’t do a damn thing to change it. “Never apologize, princess. This is ours. Just you and me okay? We’ll figure it all out together.” “Okay.” I cup her waist. Anchoring her to me while I scoot closer. Our bodies centimeters apart. Nothing coming between us but her anxiety. Until she

touches my cheek. Trailing down my jaw line and lighting an inferno on my blazing skin as her silky fingertips brush my morning scruff. Hyper aware that she’s in my space, touching me with an urgency I’m not used to. Resting for a few seconds under my chin before she smiles, stretching to reach me, and skims my mouth with hers. When she sucks in my lower lip, gently scraping with her teeth, I’m so fucking done. I possess her with my tongue, sweeping in hard and deep and powerful. She matches my strokes without any hesitation. My cock throbs harder against her bare thigh. Impatient to eliminate the nylon restraining it. An involuntary thrust of my hips I can’t hold back and my hand slides up her velvet back until my fingers tangle in the strap of her sports bra. That I cannot take off of her. Fuck. What the hell am I doing? This time I’m the one to pull back. Before I go too far. Before I do something she regrets. Before I make her fear me. Her hooded gaze meets mine. The need for more blatant. The desire for me as palpable as my craving for her. But fucking her on the gym floor isn’t what I want for our first time. Because when I’m finally inside her there won’t be any question. Not about me. Or her. Or us. Cradling her against me, I cup my hand around her sweet head resting on my bicep. Confirming I

did the right thing when she cuddles deeper into my embrace. Her tiny fist clutching my shirt. I press my lips to her ear. “Do you know I love you Viviana?” “Yes.” Her whisper back to me eliminates the remaining argument I battle with myself. We have to wait.

“Good evening, sir.” It’s official. I’m a god damn fucking psycho. I nod to the valet and jet my ass around to her side of the Audi. I don’t want the doorman scaring my princess even though I know she and that motherfucker went to plenty of high end parties with doormen and car service. But this evening out with me, here at a casual party with strangers, is all new to her and I’ll be damned if I ever let her think she’s alone. That I’m not right there. That I’ll allow anyone else to touch her but me. “Ma’am?” “I’ve got her.” A flicker of surprise bursts onto his face before his expression falls neutral again. Nodding and acquiescing to me holding out my hand to assist her out of her seat. The enormous smile well worth looking and acting like an asshole. I slide him a twenty for his trouble, and tuck her against me. Her lithe body pulsing with excitement. “I’ve always

got you angel.” “I know.” Hayes Nowak, the president of the association board, stands beneath a welcome banner, greeting party goers as they make their way inside the lodge. Decorated with flags in the school colors of the tournament teams and weird life-size cardboard cutouts of the coaches I guess to take your photo with. He shifts his martini to his left hand and offers me his right. “Stieler, we haven’t seen you around here in a while.” “Well you know those machines don’t install themselves.” He pats my shoulder with the awkwardness of a gorilla paw and guffaws like my joke is the funniest thing he’s heard in a long time. He’s all right. In a sleazy politician hustling for votes kind of way. Thinking this village leadership role is a stepping stone to real office. Always acting as if he’s thrilled to see you and unnervingly adept at remembering names and occupations, whether they’re real or not. Keeping me on my game to make sure I keep the few details I’ve shared with him straight. “Please introduce me to your gorgeous companion.” Probably the truest thing he’s said all night. “Hayes, this is Viviana.” I don’t share her last name or her relation to me, and he’s too slick to ask. Would never want to

make any one uncomfortable. Which is exactly what would happen if I share that she’s my fiancée, and she’ll be wearing my ring very soon since I’m not sure if she’s accepted the fact yet. “A pleasure Viviana. Is this your first time here in our marvelous little community?” “Yes. I’ve only been here a few days, and I’ve fallen in love already. I can see why you are so proud.” Very keen. No doubt my girl’s sharp. Figuring out quickly he’s someone who enjoys having his ego stroked. Although knowing her sweet nature, she probably means everything she says to him. “Wonderful! Let me introduce you to my wife. I think the two of you would get along splendidly.” He steps back and scans the crowd of about forty people already inside the grand hall. Approximately half occupy the brown overstuffed leather sofas and chairs while small groups gather around both stone fireplaces with even more working their way through the long buffet set up in front of the back wall of floor to ceiling windows. “Mia!” A blond looks up from her phone and follows the direction of his bellowing voice, smiling when she catches his eye. “Come here darling, I have someone I want you to meet.” She pushes up from the chair slowly, balancing

her hands on the thick arms to thrust her weight forward, and waddles in our direction. He meets her half way, wrapping an arm around her waist while he caresses her stomach with his free hand. Despite being a pompous ass, at least he’s good to his wife. “Mia, this is Viviana. She’s new to the area.” “Welcome! We’re so glad you’re here.” She gives my princess a sincere yet awkward hug maneuvering around her bump. “I need a drink but since I can’t have one, we’ll get you one and I’ll live vicariously through you.” Viviana smiles from Mia’s warm laugh. Lighthearted and vivacious, she definitely is the genuinely fun one of the couple. “Is it okay?” Neither of them seem to notice Viviana’s uncertainty. Unaware the true meaning of her question. “Yeah, of course. I’ll meet you back in there.” I nod toward the party before kissing her cheek. “Have fun.” Mia loops her arm through Viviana’s, guiding her toward the bar in the corner. “You could have a margarita. Oooo! Or a cosmo sounds great. I like wine too. Do you like wine? They can do spritzers if you…” Now I’m the pansy ass worrying about her. She’ll never be out of my sight, and she seems only slightly overwhelmed. Giggling from Mia’s

incessant chattering in her ear as they stroll away. Just like his wife’s diatribe, Hayes rattles on next to me about the village’s battle against annexation. Of which I give exactly zero fucks. I only care about her. Watching as Mia plays unwitting intermediary between the bartender and Viviana. All three of them deep in passionate discussion until finally my princess nods, and the guy pours her a glass of red wine. Laughing even harder as Mia dips her nose to inhale the bouquet and feigns heart palpations from being overcome. “So can I count on you for your support in this dire initiative?” “Of course.” I have no fucking clue what I’ve just agreed to. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except that Viviana’s returning to me. Glowing with bliss from the success of their mission. With so much more at stake than just obtaining a beverage. “Anything you need.” “I appreciate it Stieler. I really do.” I hold out my hand to her. Only a little bit guilty stealing her away from Mia. Proud of my angel, I want her to know it. I kiss her temple and tuck her against me as carefully as I can to keep from jostling her cabernet. “Are you hungry?” “Yes. All this amazing food is making my belly growl.” “Mine too.” Mia grabs her husband’s arm. “But then again I’m always hungry lately.”

We follow them in pursuit of dinner until Viviana looks up to me. Her forehead pinched with confusion. “I’ve never done this before. They usually bring plates to our table.” “This is better because you can pick what you want and as much as you want. I’ll show you.” I love how much she trusts me to take care of her. All the bewilderment evaporates with my reassurance. I keep her wedged securely between my arms as we move down the line. Loading my plate with chicken skewers, white chili, and guacamole, while she nods to my offerings of barbeque ribs, buffalo wings, and nachos. Cracking me up with her choices. It’s on. My tiny beauty came to eat. “You better be sure you leave room for dessert.” “Oh I will. I promise.” Absolutely no doubt she’ll love that smorgasbord of sugar too when I see her eyeing the chocolate fountain and platters of cheesecake squares. Her shy smile greets mine when we set down our plates at an open table. “May I go and wash my hands please?” No. I don’t want her out of my view for even a second. But Hayes and Mia exchange raised eyebrow looks with each other from Viviana’s request. Questioning her submissive nature. Wondering about our relationship. Assuming I’m a controlling bastard.

Which for all intents and purposes I am. To protect my princess. “Of course angel. I’m heading to grab a drink myself. I’ll show you where the restrooms are.” Fucking liar. Acting like her leaving my presence is no big deal. That I don’t mind at all she’ll be away from me and Dante or some other motherfucker could grab her. “I can show her.” Mia pats her stomach in explanation and slides out of her chair. “I need to go myself.” Damn fucking hell. I can’t say no without looking like a complete asshole. Keeping mute as they walk away from me. Hayes digs in, squirting mustard on his burger. No worries about his wife at all. Which is totally rational for him. Should be for me too. But I’m not at all rational when it comes to Viviana. I hustle to the bar and order the craft beer that’s the specialty drink of the evening. Never taking my eyes off the hallway where I last saw her. As soon as the cold bottle hits my palm, I bolt, following the girls’ same path. Pulling out my phone, I lean against the wall pretending I’m engrossed in my screen when the only genuine obsession I have is getting her back. After a few minutes the door to the ladies room swings open. Not her exiting, but for a few seconds until the wood hits the frame again I see her.

Peering at a tube of lipstick a woman holds out, pointing to the label on the bottom. My pussy ass heart slows in its race. She’s fine. Safe and secure physically as well as emotionally. The other women didn’t scatter. She didn’t chase them away. They’re interacting with her. Friendly. Kind. Gracious. Hopefully proving to her she was never the problem. Never the reason for her solitude. Shoving my cell back into my pocket, I take a long swallow. My own discomfort finally dissolving, and I head back to our seats. A third woman accompanies Mia and Viviana on their return. The animation in Viviana’s expression so fucking beautiful as she talks to the older blond, her slender hands gesturing along with her words while the woman nods in agreement. Fuck me if Viviana doesn’t curl her fingers around my thigh after she sits down. Keeping the conversation going with Mia about the shops we went to yesterday, while connecting with me too. The first time she’s ever initiated affection between us. My cock goes as crazy as my heart. Both of them wanting to whisk her away from all of this and prove to her how much I really do love her. Instead, I pretend like I’m not insane and wrap my hand over hers. Giving her a gentle squeeze. A heavy set man wearing a tie covered in basketballs approaches our table. One of Hayes’ buddies that I can’t recall his name. He smacks the

president on the shoulder and grins at all of us. “We’re setting up a quick darts tourney for half time and need some more couples. You guys in?” I glance at Viviana, who’s already wide-eyed and nodding. “Do you want to play?” Why the fuck am I even asking. Of course she does. I nod to the guy. “Count us in.” Her peck on the cheek is all the enticement I need to agree as well. I promised myself I would give her an amazing night and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

“I had a great time.” The first time I’ve ever heard the dreamy quality to her voice, and I fucking love the reverie in her tone. “Me too.” “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anything so hot.” I can’t help but chuckle from the memory of her gulping water after tasting the ghost pepper sauce on the chicken tenders. My hand automatically glides to the long strands lying across her cheek, and I brush them away from her pink skin. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman so hot.” Yeah, I’ve had a few beers. But I’m far from drunk. At least not because of booze. Because of

her. Glowing with her natural beauty as well as enjoying a fun night that didn’t end with her bloody or bruised or belted. Just cuddling on the sofa by the fire with the man who loves her more than he thought possible. “Christina? The lady in the purple wrap? She is beautiful, isn’t she?” I’m not sure how she’s serious, but she is. So damn modest. “No angel. You. I’m talking about how fucking stunning you are.” “Oh…” She looks up, resting her chin on my chest and gives me a smile I’ve never seen before either. “Thank you.” Not just happy. But almost liberated. Like a woman who loves a man and isn’t afraid of him or his affection. Nothing is more right and real than in this moment. The past and future are a blurry haze and only the here and now is where we exist. “I’m a fucking lucky bastard to have you.” “It’s me who’s lucky.” Her dainty fingertip circles the button near my neck. “Tonight’s the first time that I can remember in my entire life I didn’t feel it.” Now I whisper too. Mimicking her cryptic style. “Didn’t feel what?” “That ache I always have in my stomach. When I missed the bull’s eye and we lost, I looked at you and…” She hiccups a little sob and her head tilts. A lone drop slides out of the corner of her eye,

trailing down her temple into her hair. “…you still smiled. You weren’t mad.” I swipe at the wetness with my thumb. Despising the tears but loving her realization. “Nothing to get mad about. It was just a game. I didn’t care if we won or lost. We had fun. No reason to get upset.” “But, it’s more than that. You never get upset. You never get angry at me.” “And I never will angel. If something happens and we disagree, we’ll talk it out. No yelling or hitting. Just talking. Okay?” “Okay.” Her eyes clench shut and her tits shove deeper into my chest with her deep exhale. Calming her emotions while stirring mine. I’m about ready to explode just like I have been for the past four days. But I refuse to be any more of a bastard than I already am. When she’s ready, she’ll let me know. We’ll both know. “It’s getting late, and we’ve got mass tomorrow.” Kind of perverted talking about church when my cock’s this fucking hard. But I’m barely hanging on with her touching me. With her sweet body draped over mine. With the scent of her sweet, flowery shampoo wafting across me. She stands up from the couch, and I miss her already. Completely adorable holding out her hand to me like I always do to her. I rise and bring her

fingers to my mouth, kissing across each knuckle while an indulgent smile lifts her lips. Murmuring against her silky skin. “My pleasure to escort you princess.” “I appreciate your escort my king.” Fuck if that’s not sexy as hell. I know she’s just imitating a long-ago fairy tale or some child’s story but for some reason that slays me. It takes all of my restraint not to start working my cock from the heat blazing between us. All I can do is nod. No words would be safe for her to hear right now. Especially when her head rests on my shoulder while we walk. Comfortable and content. Not greedy and hungry and desperate like me. My feet refuse to move when we reach the end of the hallway. A literal fork in the road. Left to her room, right to mine. I can’t seem to turn where I should rather than where I want. “Roan?” Looking up with the trepidation I swore I would never cause to darken her sweet face, she pauses next to me. Unwilling to rebel. Or resist. Just waits like the good girl she is. I stroke down her shoulders, attempting to ease the uncertainty with my touch if not my words. “Stay with me tonight angel. In my bed.” Shock storms in her eyes. A sharp inhale that steals my breath too. “To sleep. I promise nothing

else. I just want to hold you. I want you close to me.” Her gaze refuses to sustain mine, and she glances toward her door. “I…I’m n-not…I need to–“ Fuck, I’m frightening her. “It’s okay.” I’m a god damn fucking bastard. Too much too fast. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you.” I slide my finger under her chin and turn her back to face me. Needing to kick my own fucking ass for the dejection shading her expression. “I’ll see you in the morning okay?” Scarlet stains her cheeks. Embarrassed by my idiocy. Uncomfortable because I’m a fucking dumb ass. How could I be so fucking selfish? Thinking with my cock instead of remembering how fragile she is. What she endured. She finally nods, quick and sharp before staring at the carpet again. “Good night princess.” With her head still low, she steps back and twists away. Unable to get to her room fast enough. Frantic to get away from me and my damn stupid request. Never even looks back once she crosses the threshold. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m wired now without any outlet. I promised I wouldn’t box without her. Too noisy to run on the treadmill, and I sure as hell can’t go outside and leave her unprotected. I storm to my room. For once I can’t even fucking jack off.

Not when I wanted to be touching her instead of myself. Totally worth fighting to keep my need in check and relishing every fucking second of her curled next to me. Sweet torture I would have loved. Until I fucked it up. I’m almost shaking I’m so pissed at myself. So I do the only thing I can. I drop to the floor and start counting off. My face almost smashing to the carpet as I strain against my raging muscles. Taut with anger rather than fatigue. Which I’m going to fuck earn. Even if it takes all night.

I

toss my razor back on the counter. Despite shaving, I still look like shit. Exhaustion finally creeping in about two a.m. after hours of push-ups, sit ups, jumping jacks, dips off the edge of the chair, and every other fucking exercise I could think of until my body finally collapsed. My sleep was just as restless. Filled with dreams of her. Good ones where she came to my bed and allowed me to apologize with and without words. Nightmares where she cried and bled from me hurting her when all I tried to do was hug her or hold her hand. Startling me awake from her screams when bruises erupted on her delicate skin regardless of how gently I touched her. After swiping specks of white cream off my neck with the towel, I pat on a few drops of her favorite aftershave. Well, I think it is. She told me once I smelled good, so now I always use the lotion. Because I’m a fucking pussy as well as an idiot.

I stride to the bedroom and yank my shirt over my head, tossing the wrinkled tee onto the equally messy comforter tangled with the sheets. Lugging my suit out of the closet, I pause. I haven’t worn a tie in years. Not since Denny’s funeral. The memory smothers my anger and slows my jerky, rough movements rumpling my formerly crisp white dress shirt. My best friend who should still be alive if he hadn’t been so impatient. Too eager to get back home to his girl who was going to make him a daddy any minute, and he jumped the gun. Literally, and now he’s dead because of his mistakes. I refuse to do the same thing. I’m rushing her and need to slow the fuck down. With new resolve, I hustle to her room. Ready to start fresh and regain her trust. Which will be so much harder than I hoped. Because she sits on the motherfucking bed. God. Damn. It. A timid smile without any joy behind the expression crosses her face. “Good morning.” Hesitant rather than jovial. Posed almost as a question. Asking if the morning really is good. If we’re good. Like in the past. Before I ruined everything. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?” “Yes, thank you for asking.” The dark circles under her eyes say otherwise. Of course she would never complain. Or speak her mind. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, please.” Would you like to punch me in the throat for being a fucking moron? ‘No, thank you’ is what I know she would say but I wonder if she would really mean her polite words this time. I hold out my hand, and she stares at my fingers. The first time she’s ever hesitated from my touch. A neutral mask slides into place that she used to wear when that motherfucker screamed and belittled her, and she slowly edges off the mattress. All of her eagerness to be with me vanished. “How about after church I take you out for breakfast? Maybe some pancakes or French toast?” “Okay, thank you.” Nothing. Absolutely zero enthusiasm or interest in my offer. Son of a bitch. All traces of my carefree girl from last night are gone. Replaced with the shell of Viviana I thought I’d cracked enough to obliterate. Splintered enough so the armor would never return. I can’t stand her despondency anymore. “About last night…I’m sorry. I know I asked you for something you’re not ready for.” The damn carpet keeps her attention. Too hopeless to face me. I have to get her back. “I didn’t mean to rush you. I swear it won’t happen again.” She murmurs her reaction, so faint and nervous, I can’t catch her words. “I couldn’t hear what you

said angel.” A long stuttered breath as her small hands ball into fists against her thighs as if gathering her courage. Her back straightens and her head lifts. Eyes tracking up my body until she finally meets my gaze. “I wanted to be with you too.” This time I hear her. Barely louder than a whisper but still so fucking clear and unambiguous. My brave princess finally speaks up with what she wants. Confident until my dumb ass, too shocked to respond, steals some of her courage and she jerks backward, bumping into the bed again. Nope. I’m not going to let her think she’ll ever be punished for being honest with me. “Really?” Her head nods. Silky black hair sweeping up and down her hunched shoulders. “I was trying to tell you that I needed to take off my make-up and brush my teeth first.” She tucks a wayward strand behind her ear. “But you didn’t seem to want me anymore. I didn’t know what to do.” Fucking shit. I really am a god damn fool. Assuming what she wanted rather than letting her tell me. All this damn time I’m trying to build up her confidence, to not be afraid to express herself and instead, I decide what I think she wants. “I’m sorry. I seem to have a bad habit of interrupting you. Next time just tell me to shut the fuck up and let you talk.”

A stunned giggle breaks the tension. Both of us well aware she’d never speak to me or anyone else like that. Although I have to admit it’d be sexy as hell for my dainty princess to talk dirty to me. Maybe someday. My cock twitches from the thought, and I need to shut that shit down quick. We’re going to mass for fuck’s sake. But one last thing she has to know before we leave this all behind us. “For the record, I want you. I’ve always wanted you. No matter what other stupid shit I say or do, that will never change.” Her authentic smile breaks through as she nods. Accepting my assertion and my apology. Time to restart this morning, and I hold out my hand again. But she has other ideas. Launching herself to me, I’m engulfed in a huge bear hug instead. Her grip tighter than I’ve ever felt from her. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy or this desperate for a woman in my fucking life to have her delicate body sheathed against me. Making me wish it was time for bed already. Probably better it isn’t. “Thank you for taking me to church.” “You’re welcome. I’m sorry they don’t have daily mass like you like. Only Wednesdays and Sundays, but I’ll keep searching to find another one for you so you can go every day.” “It’s perfect.” Her head shakes. Rubbing her cheek across my jacket before she lifts up. “You look really nice.”

I skim over her dark pink dress, the vee in the front cut just low enough to reveal the hollow of her breasts. She’s breathtaking as always. “You look really nice too.” Now I’ve made her really happy. Her small hand slides into mine, squeezing me all the way to the mud room where I assist her with her coat. I bundle her long hair together and pull the strands out from under her collar. Loving the feel of her under my control. Willing and without fear. I tug the pony tail to the left and taste her exposed throat, sucking the delicate skin even though I know I shouldn’t. I just can’t keep myself from relishing her. “You didn’t kiss me last night.” I fucking love the desire rasping in her voice. Fuck me. So damn busy beating myself up, I forgot what we both needed. “How could I have been so forgetful? I guess I need to make up for it now.” Twisting the silky locks around my fist, I drag my lips across her bare neck. Nipping and licking while her head falls forward. A mewl of approval bubbling in her mouth. It would be so damn easy to slide my hands around her torso. Palm her perfect tits. Tugging her rosy nipples taut before sliding lower to lift the hem of her dress and breach her tiny panties. Dragging my finger between her slick folds. Drenched with her desire for me.

But I can’t. Grateful the thick material of our jackets diminishes my erection that I’m barely able to control from grinding into her back. If she was any other woman, I’d tip her forward, letting her luscious breasts hang over my forearm while I yank out my cock. Sliding my hand between the little gap in her thighs, urging her slender legs apart to glide the tip of my aching dick right to her throbbing clit. Torturing the fuck out of her in the most glorious way until I slid into her sweet wet pussy. But she’s not. She’s my angel who said yes to cuddling. That’s all. Ignoring the images of her under my delicious mercy, I give her a chaste peck on the satin skin of her shoulder and spread her hair gently across her back again. “Ready to go?” Her petite body sways a bit when I release her waist and turn her around to me. Blushing and panting more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her. Loving how I affected her too. An emotion I hope is lust, if not love, blazes in her eyes as she gazes up to me. “You okay, princess?” “Yes, I think so.” “Good.” I run my finger down her cheek. Smiling from her small shudder. “Then we better go.” She nods and clutches my bicep while I escort her to the garage. Unbelievable how responsive she

is after the hell she endured. Eliciting such a strong reaction out of her with a tender touch that motherfucker never once used. Never cared enough to try. Fucking fool. They would’ve had the perfect life if he only realized the gift he received. Now I’m the lucky bastard who won’t ever take her for granted. Quiet as we drive, she frowns toward the windshield not seeming to really see the glass or anything beyond the hood with her faraway expression. My gut clenches wondering if she’s thinking of that bastard. If she’s comparing me to him. “This feels so different than before.” Finally her questioning gaze shifts to me. “I guess that’s kind of obvious, isn’t it? But when you would take me to St. Mark’s, I loved going but it was also an escape. My only real opportunity to get away. But now I can really enjoy it. Without already dreading the end before it’s even started. If that makes sense?” “It makes perfect sense.” I squeeze her fingers wrapped in mine. “I felt the same way. I fucking hated taking you home afterward. I hated taking you back to him.” Shame battles with relief in her expression. I know she thinks the lack of remorse makes her a bad person. Although unlike me I know she’s not happy he’s dead. So I can be that person for both of

us. Since I don’t carry an ounce of guilt, I’ll bear hers for her. “There’s nothing wrong with being glad he can’t hurt you anymore.” “I guess so.” All her reservations fade away when we turn into the parking lot of a small chapel. Practically a shack compared to the cathedral I used to take her to. Although you can’t tell any dissatisfaction from the pure joy brightening her face as she leans closer to get a better look. Her nose almost skimming the glass while she strains against her seatbelt. Not a bit of disappointment. I droop against my own seat in relief. If she’s happy, I’m happy. No organ or choir greets us as we enter the vestibule. Only piped in music, ancient yet serene, resonates in the rose-scented air. Maybe a wedding or a funeral recently from the oversized peach bouquets centered in front of each pulpit. The lone bursts of color in the otherwise neutral decor of oak pews and white walls and pillars. “I don’t see the confessionals.” She whispers and points to an older woman kneeling in the first row. “Maybe they’re held in the sacristy.” We stride to the front, and Viviana drops to her knees too behind the lady while I sit. Familiar feelings of peace flood through me watching my princess where she loves to be. I may not buy into all this organized religion with their stories of wise men following stars and a few fish turning into

hundreds but the tales of betrayal and sacrifice sound too familiar. Maybe some threads of truth in the legends. After a few minutes, a guy comes out from the doorway to the right of the altar joining, who I assume is his wife, in front of us. She remains bowed in prayer. I hop up too when Viviana rises. I won’t confess. The priest would probably stroke out after listening to my long list of transgressions; yet, I still need to make sure my girl remains safe. An older man, dressed all in black except the white collar circling his throat, sits in the alcove. An empty seat waits across from him. He jumps up as we step inside. Surprise morphing into pleasure from the new parishioners. “Good morning.” He gestures to the plain wooden chair. The flush back and short seat seem uncomfortable, but she doesn’t hesitate. Almost running to accept his invitation. The situation appears legit. He’s a bit younger than her former priest with his dark hair free from gray and his build sturdy. I guess they still recruit nowadays. I nod to him and step back, assuming my usual post outside. Circumstances may be different but my protection of her never will change. Unable to make out any words with the music and their soft voices, but I’m enthralled watching her. The most I’ve ever seen my princess talk. To

me or anyone else. Fuck me if I’m not jealous. I want to know what she tells him. I want to hear everything she holds in her heart. Until I see the worry line his expression. Eyes widening to disbelief. Then bewilderment as he shakes his head and grasps her hand. She smiles, her stunning, indulgent, forgiving smile and glances at me. As if reassuring me everything is all right. When clearly from the dread on his face, it isn’t all right at all. Fuck. Minutes tick by and sweat rolls down my temples and back. So fucking hot in here with the inferno exploding in me. Other congregants fill the pews. Two drowsy teenage boys, draped in black and white robes, exit from the sanctuary doorway to the left and begin lighting candles. A woman carries a binder and a guitar to the podium. Strumming a few chords barely audible over the recorded violins echoing through the filling nave. And still the confession doesn’t end. Back and forth they talk. Appearing to disagree. Almost arguing. I tolerate their debate because I know this sacrament —these beliefs — are important to her. Until she wipes away tears. Motherfucker. I don’t give a damn if he’s a

priest or not. No one makes her cry. I storm in, and he flies up from his chair. Already raising his palms in surrender. Defending against the fury that must be raging on my face. Hot and pulsing skin from her broken breaths. “What’s wrong angel?” “F —father Preston said I need my sacrament certificates. I tried to explain why I can’t get them, and he said he’s scared for my safety.” Apparently she is too from the fear lurking in her sob. God fucking damn. I cut between them so she can only see me. Only see my face. Only see the sincerity in my eyes. I hunch down and cup her damp cheeks. “I will never hurt you. You know that. I love you Viviana.” She nods in my palms. Her head bobbing furiously as her lips tremble. Gasping for air, trying to talk. “I know. I told him that you saved me. You want to keep me safe. But he doesn’t believe me. He said he won’t marry us. We can’t get married in the church.” If murdering him wouldn’t break her heart, I’d end this bastard for telling her such bullshit. I don’t give a fuck about this religion or its arcane rules. But she does, and I’ll be damned if he fucks up what she wants. Especially when what she wants is to marry me. I take her shaking hand in mine, and spin around. Keeping her hidden behind me. Protecting

her from his disgust of me. “I don’t know what she told you or what you think you heard. But she’s innocent. Everything that’s happened is because of me. I’m the only who deserves blame in this situation. So don’t you dare fucking threaten her.” His head twists side to side. Attempting to diffuse my rage. But nothing he can say or do will pacify me. No one fucking upsets my princess. “If she wants her wedding here, then she gets it. Do you understand me?” “Mrs. Moretti–” “Don’t you ever fucking call her that.” I squeeze her tiny fingers still clinging to mine. “That’s her old life. That’s over.” A hard swallow before he nods. I’m already going to hell, so scaring the fuck out of a priest won’t make things any worse. “I was simply trying to explain to…Mrs… Viviana…that marriage under these circumstances…in this situation…should not be entered into so quickly…with a crim…when a crime has been committed…” He can barely get the words out. Sputtering and stuttering because he knows. She’s told him I’m a killer. Fuck me. At least she realizes everything I do is for her. And she still loves me. “Not against her. I would never lay a finger on her.” “Mister…” He stalls with uncertainty. At least he doesn’t know who I am. “Please, I just want to

help. She confessed to me. She desires to be absolved of her sins.” Damn it. This guy really does want his ass beat. “I told you she doesn’t have any sins. She’s perfect.” “She doesn’t see it that way.” Of everything he’s said, that implication enrages me the most. I turn back to her, and her other hand clutches mine. As if trying to keep us tethered together. Like I’d ever fucking let her go. “You didn’t do anything wrong princess. You know it’s all on me. None of this will ever touch you. No one will ever blame you for anything.” “But if you go to jail what will I do without you?” That’s why she’s afraid. Not of me. Of losing me. My angel. “That won’t happen.” I’d have to call in every fucking favor I’ve ever earned, but she and I will never be separated. But I fucking love she wants the same thing. To always be with me too. “I swear.” Her head flies up from watching our entwined fingers. Wild with realization as she shakes her head. “Priests can’t tell. No matter what you confess to them.” “That’s true. I can’t.” Now he fucking attempts to console her? Appease her worry? Fucking hell. Maybe he finally fucking realizes her fragility. How precarious her

heart and mind are after the abuse she endured. “I won’t ever divulge anything we’ve discussed here. Not even with a court order.” His voice doesn’t wobble for the first time since we’ve engaged in this fight. Only giving me a bit of respite. Slowing my thoughts of taking off with her again. At least not yet anyway. Until I can figure out what the fuck to do. I’m a fucking fool for bringing her here. I should’ve known she would reveal what happened. Her pure soul can’t be bound with an immoral man like me, not even as an unwitting victim. “See?” She tugs me down to her. Where I’m oh so willing to be except when she’s frightened. “It’s okay. We can be forgiven and then be together.” So much optimism in her hopeful expression. My sweet princess thinks I can be forgiven. Can actually be saved. “Knock. Knock. Knock.” A woman stands in the doorway, exaggerating her movements with her voice to grab our attention. She smooths down her skirt as dark red as her cheeks. “I am so sorry for interrupting. I would never normally intrude Father, but it’s five after ten already.” “Thank you Carol. I’ll be right there. Please have Margaret start playing.” Relief floods her face, and she scurries away. Ready to be free of the tension pervading the flowery air and back to the normal routine of the

rituals. “I’m sorry Viviana. I have to go.” Father Preston strides to a built-in wardrobe cabinet and yanks open the door, lifting out a long, white garment. “But I want to speak with you again. As soon as Mass is over. Okay?” No, not okay at all. He doesn’t wait for her to answer, sliding the robe over his head. Blowing out a deep breath, he crosses himself with a shaking hand. Attempting to settle his nerves while I lead her out the back before he opens his eyes and finds us gone.

I take another long swallow. Bourbon on an empty stomach can’t be a good idea. Getting drunk with her here and confused is even worse. But I’ve exceeded my limit too. Edging the boundary of insanity I never thought I would cross over. I’ve always been confident, cocky if I’m fucking honest with myself. No reason not to be. I’m good at what I do. When I cared about what I was doing. Football. Security. Rescues. I never failed. That’s why this fuck up with her bothers me so much. I love her and can’t seem to get my shit together. She probably sits on her bed. Waiting for me after I left her alone to change clothes. Wondering

what to do since I’m not keeping my promises of mass or breakfast or peace. And I fucking do nothing. Don’t go to her. Don’t relieve her worry. Don’t tell her everything’s going to be all right. Because I don’t know any more if it is. If I can save her. From me or herself. God damn it. I pour a third glass. My body warm and looser than my spinning mind. I hate making her suffer because of me. But she’s safe in her room for now. Later, I’ll get her. Later, I’ll be better. Later, I’ll be the man she needs. Right now, I can’t do anything but think. And I’m fucking failing at that too. “Roan?” Impossible. My eyes fly open from her nervous whisper. My princess stands just outside the doorway. So fucking frightened to enter yet so fucking brave to try. Breaking through her insecurities to save me. To help me. To be with me. “Come here angel.” She runs. My girl fucking runs to the bastard who keeps letting her down again and again. Sliding between my sprawled legs she kneels in front of me. Her small hands cupping my cheeks this time. I can’t help but chuckle. “Are you okay?” Studying my face, her eyes jerk from my disheveled hair to my dropped chin to my fist balled on my thigh. “Yeah, now that you’re here.”

“I feel better when I’m with you too.” God how I love her. So genuine and heartfelt in her touch and intentions. I don’t think she could be disingenuous if she even tried. “Then let’s always stay together, okay?” “Okay.” I earn a small smile along with her agreement. A kiss too. Much too brief and chaste. Although I greedily accept what she offers. Realizing how damn lucky I am she offers any affection at all. Especially with all the doubt I burden her with. “I’m sorry angel. I know how important your faith is to you.” “It is.” Her soft voice falls even lower. Unable to hide the emotion flooding her tone. “It got me through things that I don’t think I could have survived otherwise.” I don’t know either. I only experienced three months of his bullshit and barely kept myself together to get her the fuck out of there. I have no fucking clue how she tolerated the torment for as long as she did. I’m not sure if my faith in anything is that damn strong. “I want that for you too. We can work with Father Preston and be forgiven.” Well since she doesn’t have anything that requires forgiveness, we don’t have anything to worry about. Her optimism slices through all the lunacy swirling in my head. Dialing down the crazy

and bringing everything back to me and her. My girl wants to protect me just as much as I want to protect her. “You know the truth about me princess —what I do and who I am. I can’t change the past no matter how much I want to. Your priest…your God won’t absolve me of my sins.” Excitement lifts her drooped shoulders and a huge smile that I’ll never tire of lights her face. “That’s not true! If you’re genuinely sorry, he will.” Which is the problem. I’m not sorry. Every one of those bastards I killed deserved to die. I just saved the time and cost of a trial. More than happy to play the roles of judge, jury, and executioner. The lack of remorse must show in my expression, and she falls back on her ankles. Deep in thought as she rubs her palms down her light pink leggings. As delicate and innocent as her. “You’re a good person. I know that.” I’m good to her, and always will be. That’s all she ever needs to know. “Not like you.” Her sweet mouth opens, quick to argue against my assertion. I shake my throbbing head and brush my fingertip across her soft lips. “Let me show you something.” She stays on her knees mistakenly thinking she requires my approval before she stands too. If I wasn’t so upset, I’d be fucking hard as granite with her kneeling in front of me. So fucking breathtaking as she looks up to me. Trusting me with her

submission. Hopefully believing in my love for her rather than waiting out of habit or fear. I offer both my hands to lift her up. A symbol of me taking care of her completely. Once her fingers slide into mine, I drag her to me. Needing to reassure both of us before I demonstrate the reality of my past. Smooth hair flows like silk under my calloused palms as I stroke her head. “Thank you for wanting to save me.” Loathe to release her, but I need both hands, well thumbs actually, to open the safe bolted to the floor hidden behind a false front cabinet. Not that my precautions would stop someone who really wanted inside. But I’d already have to be dead for them to make it this far and be able to override the security measures I’ve implemented, so the point would be moot. The heavy door clicks open from my prints pressed against the black and red screen, and I slide out the papers. My entire career boiled down to a four-inch stack of folders. “These are old school, but safer than electronic files that can easily be hacked.” She peers closer when I set the pile on my desk and flip the top cover open. A toddler smiles at us from the photo stapled to a brief dossier. I tap the alligator juggling balls on his navy blue shirt. “Wyatt was two and a half when his father decided that his share of the diamond black market wasn’t

big enough and instigated a revolt against the boss. The only problem was his son became the incentive for him to back down. It took us four days to find him. Someday soon his Dad will have to explain the scars on his legs from being shackled to the guard dog who hated their mutual chain as much as the kid did.” Her fingertips press against her lips as she struggles not to cry. Shaking away the tears welling in her eyes. I fucking hate to be so harsh but she has to know —to understand —what happens in my world. Although she’s well aware of the cruelty those with power love to inflict on the helpless. I flick open a few more portfolios of the victims. Young. Old. Pretty. Plain. Innocent. Guilty. Regardless of how different they are, every single one of them shares the same characteristic. They’re loved and wanted. “My job was to bring them home no matter what. So for every face you see, at least one man died. Usually several. Because I killed them.” She bristles from the brutality, and her gaze remains locked on the little boy. “You saved them?” I nod from her hopeful whisper. “Yes. Some of the other guys weren’t so lucky. They’d be too late. But I always managed to bring mine out alive. But their captors had to die to make rescuing them possible. So as much as I should probably feel guilty or ashamed I don’t. I never will.”

We stand in silence while she processes my confession, and I pull out the thickest packet I have. Shiny eyes widen when I stroke across her name scrawled on the corner. “That one’s mine?” “Yeah, everything your Dad told me.” She looks about ten in her picture. With a white bow tied around her dense ponytail and a carefree smile that she nor her father had any idea would be stolen from her in a few short years. A tiny princess eventually worth more dead than alive. Except to me. Never to me. I rifle through the pages behind the image. “All your legal papers are in here, like your birth certificate and the trust fund documents. I’m sorry he didn’t give me the records you want for church. I guess he didn’t think that was important at the time.” Just a nod and a shiver before she hugs herself. She doesn’t reach for the envelope or convey any disappointment. “You never had a driver’s license or passport, but I had them made for you in case you ever want them.” Hopefully she does. That I haven’t freaked her out so much that she won’t let me take her to Italy and all the other places she dreams of. I hold up the plastic card for her to see. “Viviana Roan.” Fuck me if I don’t love the sound of our last

name on her lips. “My wife deserves the real me.” The lack of response from my comment hurts. I can’t lie. Another reminder that I expect more than she can give. At least right now. Maybe my next request will help her realize my genuine intentions. “You have to have access too. If you need these or the cash I have in there.” She doesn’t resist as I draw her closer and tuck her back against my chest. I can’t help from breathing in her delicate scent. I type in the code and the display blinks in readiness. Curling my hands around hers, I hold her thumbs to the monitor until the short row of green lights flash. “Only you and I can get inside now.” “Thank you for trusting me.” My arms encircle her small body, and I nuzzle her neck. Burrowing deeper around her, hoping she feels how safe and loved she is. “Thank you for trying to trust me. I know all of this is difficult for you.” Slowly spinning us around to face the wall of photos behind us, I point to the new image I hung up after she went to bed last night. Frantic to fix what I fucked up. “That right there is all that matters.” Her grasp tightens on my forearms. The taut cords flexing under her gentle touch. “Us?” “Yeah, angel. Us. Always us.” “I’m just not used to anyone being so nice to

me.” “It’s only going to keep getting better. I promise. Especially when you taste my pancakes. They’re almost as sweet as you.” I turn her around when she giggles from my whisper in her dainty ear. Welcoming her crooked, burgeoning smile. That I somehow think represents the eye roll she means but doesn’t do. Yeah, I’m a cheesy fucker. But I love when she blushes. “Come on. I owe you breakfast.” As attentive as always, she takes our cooking seriously. Ensuring the milk doesn’t surpass the third red line on the glass measuring cup and carefully picking out the slivers of shell that snuck into the batter. Flipping the spatula like an expert after only a few attempts. Quiet but seemingly relaxed. Although her silence continues while we eat. Swallowing a few small bites, but she mainly pushes pieces of her flapjacks through the syrup. A vacant gaze following the translucent brown streaks across the white ceramic. Beginning to unnerve me that she still frets over my failure this morning. “Do you like your food?” So deep in thought she startles from my question. Her fork clattering against her plate. Yet she nods and smiles. “Yes, it is very good. Thank you.” Damn automated knee jerk response. Which I

fucking hate. I want the real Viviana back with me. Not that bastard’s fucking robot. Reminding me I have one last mistake to correct with her. Even though I detest the risk, I’ll deal with the danger to make her happy. “I really am sorry about this morning. I know you were excited, and I ruined it.” “No! You didn’t ruin it. I shouldn’t have gone to confession, I guess.” She guesses. The adamancy in her voice dwindles as much as her body. Breaking our connection when her gaze falls to her lap, and she slumps against her chair. It’s not the confession she regrets. It’s me and these circumstances and this damn life challenging the only certainty she has right now. That she’s ever had. “I’ll never make you choose between me and your faith. I’ll find another church for us to go to.” “Us?” The same optimistic tone as when we looked at our selfie earlier. I’m not sure I can give her what she wants, but I’m damn sure willing to try. “Yeah, us. I’ll go and be a part of it as much as you want me to be. If you want me to.” Finally she looks up. Pride floods her expression. I mean I think it’s pride. I hope it’s pride. I want it to be fucking pride so damn bad, and I don’t even know why. “You would do that for me?” Yeah, I do fucking know why. Because if she’s

proud of me, even though I’ll probably fail, I know she’ll feel about me an emotion she’s never felt for any other man. My own rare insecurity flares. I need to know that she may not completely hate being stuck here. Or with me. We’re trying to get through right now. But the future never leaves my thoughts either. Uneasy wondering how ten or twenty years in my captivity will affect her. “I’d do anything for you angel. Including going to mass. If it’s enough for you that I can’t―” The stool wobbles from her leap up, and I can’t seem to move. Paralyzed from her jubilant face as she skirts around the table and flies toward me. A tiny blur of pink and white as her arms coil around my neck. Hugging me as tight as she can in our awkward position. “I do. It is. You are.” I chuckle into her shoulder from her rapid spurts of agreement. So relieved, she struggles to answer and convey her gratitude. But it’s the last two words that I hear. That mean the most. I’m enough for her despite my flaws. “Good. Then finish your breakfast, and I’ll start searching.” One last deep inhale before she escapes out of my embrace. Skimming my cheek with her lips, she smiles with such genuine appreciation and enthusiasm and love I can barely restrain myself from pulling her back to me.

I know she’s disappointed, but I don’t think either of us are up for boxing today. I’ve already made her cry twice, and it’s not even noon yet. She needs an activity to enjoy without stirring up so much damning emotion, and I need something to keep my cock occupied after she’s been cuddling on me since breakfast. Unaware in her bliss the strain her loving touch puts on my dwindling will power. Of course though she’s as agreeable as always. Simply smiles and nods from my suggestion of going for a hike. Although her eagerness seems genuine. Forever excited about sharing in a new experience with me. “I like those better than the first pair.” A deep intensity dips the normally smooth skin between her eyes as she walks down the improvised aisle. Lines of shoeboxes stacked in rows to define the space between apparel and clothes in the small athletic store we’ve returned to. Probably for the best we’re shopping for her feet

rather than sports bras again. My dick couldn’t take her naked with just a thin curtain separating us. “They’re really comfortable.” “Good. Then we’ll get those and the running shoes.” Two styles she’s never owned before. Just fancy high heels in the past. But when she told me she wants to go jogging with me, I had to buy her a pair of Sauconys. My girl wants to run, so by god we’re going to run. “Thank you for all of this. I know buying these is very expensive.” She keeps her gaze downward, but I know it’s not to evaluate her new shoes. I infer what she implies. And fucking hate the insinuation. I received nothing for rescuing her, and now she thinks I’m stuck paying for everything she needs. Shame floods out her appreciation, drowning the smile I always want to see on full blast. I stalk toward her, realizing my mistake when she flinches, and I force myself to slow, holding up my palms on the last three steps. Realizing thankfully I’ve not scared her too much when she remains still once I reach her. “Remember when I told you I took so many risks so I could enjoy the reward?” “Yes.” “You, angel…” Ragged breaths blow against my jacket, and I slide my finger under her chin to lift her flushed face to mine. “…are that reward.”

A shiver runs through her slight body from my touch as well as my definitive tone. The assertion simple yet powerful. For both of us. “I am?” “Yeah, there’s nothing and nobody else I want to spend my time with or my money on but you.” A punch to the gut when she still looks uncertain. Frowning even more than before. Still so broken. Unable to completely believe me. To understand how much she means to me. Being with her is like trying to survive underwater. Needing to hold your breath and not panic but the craving for air is so strong you have to force yourself not to gulp the water. Even when you reach the surface you still gasp and cough. Unable to accept the instantaneous relief. Almost too wonderful to trust the oxygen you inhale. “You never act like I’m a burden. That I’m too much trouble.” Another harsh reminder of what she’s used to. Of how she was treated in the past. “Because you’re not.” Now I get the grin I love. “I like hiking and want you to go with me. We need boots. It’s that simple.” She nods slowly. All the joy back in her smile. “Simple.” “Yep. Now grab your…” I point to her little slippers she wore in. Too many new styles for me to remember all their names. “Ballet flats.”

It’s my turn to nod. “Ballet flats and throw them into the box. You can wear your boots out since we’re heading to the trails next.” I think we make the owner of the store pretty happy too with two shopping sprees in almost as many days. We’re probably her best customers during this normally quiet off season. All smiles to me and compliments to Viviana while she rings up our purchases. Waving to us through the window even after we’ve walked out the front door. “This was so much more fun than picking clothes out of a catalog or having personal shoppers bring outfits to the house. I like choosing what I wear.” Viviana waits next to me as I load the bags into the back end. Without any need to remind her to stay close. “Okay, so don’t smack me for being sexist, but most women I know do like to―“ “Viviana! Roan!” Reflex drives my fingers to my gun and my hand to her waist. Jerking her between me and the tailgate from the shrill female voice calling to us from the plaza. More excited than threatening, but I refuse to take any chances. I spin around with her behind me. My broad body the shield to her petite frame. Gasping in surprise from my rough treatment. Mia. Fuck. The tension drains out of my taut body,

and I hang my head. Overreacting, and even fucking worse, scaring my princess. I turn back to her and caress her trembling arms. “I’m so sorry angel. I didn’t know who it was and I had to protect you. Are you okay?” The same distraught expression as the confrontation with Bruno distorts her sweet face. Absurd but so fucking understandable with what we’ve put her through. “Pl-please don’t k-kill her.” Jesus. I shudder myself from her frenzied plea. She’s not okay at all. Far from fucking okay. Because all she knows is that manhandling her means people die. That she’s the cause of a massacre. “I won’t. I swear to god I would never do that.” “I thought that was you guys!” Breathless but smiling Mia finally reaches us and pulls Viviana into her usual boisterous hug. So happy to see her. Unaware of my angel’s terror. God fucking damn. “You’re shaking girl. You need to get yourself a heavier coat.” Her friend links arms with the older woman who catches up with her. Loaded down with a large black purse and two pink shopping bags bouncing against her legs. Sheets of papers in her hand that blow backward onto the diamond and silver watch on her wrist from her quick strides.

“Mom, these are the Stielers. They live in that gorgeous house with the stone and iron work around the front porch that you love. You know, at the top of the ridge before the road turns into gravel.” Mia’s mother nods in enthusiastic approval. A smile as bright as her daughter’s covering her face reddened from the cool air and jog toward us. “Oh I love that house!” Mia grasps Viviana’s hand too. Connecting the three women with an increasing familiarity that would make me beyond happy if I wasn’t so fucking freaked out. “Mom and I were just finishing the registry for my baby shower. You’ll come won’t you? It’s next Saturday and it’s for couples, not just the ladies. We are going to have so much fun!” Oblivious to Viviana’s turmoil she chatters away. Giving Viviana everything she needs — friendship, freedom, fun ― everything I want for her. While instead I devastate her with my irrationality. “Okay. So the party starts at six, and here’s…” She hoists up her red bag, using the little beach ball shaped bump under her jacket as a shelf, and digs through the contents before yanking out a yellow card. “…the address.” Viviana nods. Mute and pale and so fucking lost. I accept the invitation on our behalf to avoid

increasing her anxiety any more. Cute with pots of sunflowers infused with tiny baby faces surrounded by white petals. “Thanks Mia. We’ll be there.” “Great! I’m so glad! See you then!” Luckily so caught up in their excitement, neither of them seem to catch Viviana’s lack of enthusiasm. Just offering another quick hug and a few waves before they hustle to the bakery next door. Viviana stares at the door they entered. Entranced by their departure. Maybe wishing she was with them. Maybe hoping to be anyplace but with me. “Come on. Let’s go.” I push the button for the remote start and guide her to the second row of doors. No reaction to the deviation from our normal routine. No response when I slide in next to her and lift her onto my lap. She’s freezing and frightened and I can’t get her close enough. I need to do whatever it takes to bring her back from where I lost her. “I thought…” Her body tremors harder against my chest. “You said you would kill to protect me.” “I know…and I will. But not people like her angel. Not your friend. Just people who want to hurt you. That’s all. No one else.” “Okay.” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I clutch her tight because I don’t know what else the fuck to do. Because

we’re sitting in the backseat of a running car in the middle of town, and she thinks I’m going to kill an innocent pregnant woman in broad day light. Fuck me for being so stupid and smug that I thought I could actually help her. A surreal sensation to be in the midst of our world crumbling while watching other people walk by. Unaware the agony behind the tinted windows of my SUV. Some scurry while others meander. Checking off to-do lists or just killing time until the next activity they wait for begins. While I stroke the hair of a broken princess who wants that life and I can’t seem to give it to her. No matter how hard I try. “Arturo never held me.” It takes everything I have not to tense from hearing that motherfucker’s name. Already trying to hide the raging inside of me from her, I can’t show any weakness when she needs my strength. “He didn’t?” Of course he didn’t. Nothing but a cruel pathetic bastard. “No. Not once. I’d forgotten how nice it feels.” “It is nice.” I don’t think I could sound any more idiotic. With us so precarious, I’m fucking terrified myself we’ll plunge over. Never able to claw our way back up if I say or do the wrong thing. “I like it too.” “Tonight…when we…will you hold me like

this.” I have no idea what she’s asking because I sure as hell know she’s not ready for sex. But whatever she requests, then fuck yes I will. “Tonight and every night. I’ll hold you as often and as long as you want.” “Good.” Her body finally softens and the quaking stops. A long calming sigh blows on my neck from her head tucked into my shoulder. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” Mia and her mom pass by again. Blissful with each other and the circumstance bringing them together today. Her mother’s hand pressing against her daughter’s belly covered by Mia’s fingers. Both of them beaming from a kick or flip of the little joy growing inside. I get the same niggling feeling in the back of my head I’ve been pondering over. That maybe some mom love is what Viviana needs too. That she could benefit from maternal fussing and concern and affection. And god would my mother love that opportunity. After raising five ornery boys, she would lose her mind over my angel’s sweetness. Waiting to introduce her to my parents seemed like a good idea. Give her the chance to settle in before overwhelming her with my family. But I think both of us can benefit from the help of someone with more emotional well-being than either of us. “Are

you ready to head home?” That question makes her fly up. “I thought we were going hiking?” She really looks shocked. Like it’s perfectly normal to keep your plans after you thought the man who says he loves you was going to shoot your only friend. Violence so common around her and to her, she keeps on moving forward. Either that or I’ve genuinely convinced her she can trust me. My churning gut tells me it’s the former. “Only if you still want to. Or if you want to go home, that’s all right to. Whatever you want.” “I want to be with you.” “Me too.” My admission coaxes a smile out of her that I can’t understand. Or resist. “Then let’s go hiking.”

I don’t think things can get any more fucking awkward. I mean I’ve stared down the barrel of a loaded gun. Gotten the shit beat out of me until I was unrecognizable. Lost so much blood I flat lined on the table twice. And now here I am fucking afraid of a delicate woman with a fragile heart who owns me with just a touch. After the fiasco this morning, the rest of the day was as relaxed and comfortable as I hoped the

afternoon would be. She loved the waterfall, frozen in its crystalized arc to the earth. The droplets thawing in the broad sunlight twinkling brighter than diamonds. So inquisitive of the rock formations and small caves, we stayed long enough that we walked the trail back in the moonlight. I loved that she taught me how to use chopsticks despite the fact she’d never eaten Chinese food before. Another skill she learned from her etiquette coach Miss Elaine that she finally tried out herself as well as enjoyed the pleasure of showing me something I didn’t know how to do. Now after the perfect evening, she’s lies snuggled up to me. Holding her just like she wished. Cuddling together under a heavy blue throw in front of the fireplace where we seem to end up every night. Except tonight is different. Tonight she could end the evening in my bed. If she wants. Or, even more so, if she wants, but isn’t afraid to admit her desire. I kiss the top of her head. “Are you ready to call it a day princess?” She stretches out against me. Graceful and lithe as a purring cat. With eyes just as mysterious. I can’t read her thoughts at all. “Yes, the fire always makes me so sleepy. I don’t even know if I can get up.” The perfect opportunity. I gently curl her tighter

to me and stand. Stepping over the blanket as the navy fabric falls to my feet. So fucking better than all the times I had to carry her because she couldn’t walk herself. Giggling as she looks up, coiling her arms around my neck. “What are you doing?” “Taking care of you.” Pink circles grow on her cheeks. Already rosy from the heat of the blaze, her skin still blushes from my attempt at charm. She studies me as I stride down the hall, forcing my feet left to her room. I have to give her the option. “After you brush your teeth and everything, do you want me to come back for you? Or do you want to sleep in here? It’s whatever you want, and either way is fine with me.” Which is a lie but my cock and I will keep that falsehood to ourselves. She doesn’t answer, and I have no choice but to put her down. To keep my promise. To her and myself. To us. “Come back.” Her voice stalls, and she clears her throat. Finally meeting my gaze again. The pulse in her slender neck throbbing. “I want you to come back for me.” God fucking damn. My girl spoke up. I don’t think I’ve ever been as proud of her as I am in this moment. I caress her lifted cheek. Beautiful eyes bright and clear with unquestioning anticipation. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Despite my pussy ass giddiness, I somehow manage to remember to kiss her before I walk away. Racing down the hall to my room, I yank off my fleece and jeans. Fly through brushing my teeth and jerk on a pair of trainers. Because I’ll be damned if I’m late. Or do anything to make her think I changed my mind again. I know I’m supposed to be patient and gentle and calm with her but god damn she takes my fucking breath away when I catch sight of her standing in front of the mirror braiding her long hair. Wearing some flimsy silk tank and boy shorts that she didn’t model for me during our shopping spree but I sure as hell love just the same. “Hi.” Her reflection smiles at me, and I’m done. So fucking done as I stalk toward her and scoop her up. Not even letting her finish securing the rubber band around the end of the bundled strands. “Hi angel.” She’s so soft and silky. So fucking much of her satin skin touching mine. Rubbing against me. And it’s still not enough. I place gentle kisses on her lips while I carry her to my —our —bed. Where she will always be from now on. This guest room bullshit ends now. Handling her as reverently as a wife should be treated, I lay her on the mattress and breathe in the glorious view. Relishing the intoxicating vision of

her finally here with me before I climb in next to her. Welcoming her clutching my body to hers. Arms tight around my waist as her head tucks under my chin. My traitorous cock concrete against her pussy. Well aware how close he is to her heaven. Not that I’ve had that many women in my bed but the ones I’ve had always wanted to fuck and then flip over to spoon. I guess my delicate princess doesn’t want to be the little spoon. Which if fine by me. I’ll take her however I can have her. I slide my hand under the hem of her top and massage her back. The only touch I trust myself to offer her until she asks for more. Dainty bones ripple under my fingers that would crack if I knead too hard. Too damn skinny for my taste, but with the way I’ve been feeding her, hopefully her curves will start showing soon. Her muscles loosen under my strokes, and I love her body relaxing. The tension evaporating with each caress. The stress releasing ridiculously easy despite the craziness of our day. Hell of our fucking lives. “Is this wrong?” Probably on more levels than I want to admit. “I don’t know. But we’re two consenting adults not bothering anyone else, so I guess it only matters what we think.” “It doesn’t feel wrong.”

“Not to me either.” As dumb as it seems, I swear I feel her smile as much as I can see her grin. “It’s clichéd I guess, but nothing has ever felt more right to me than being here with you.” She seems to like that answer. Lifting her head and meeting my gaze. “Will it hurt?” Rage explodes through my body, burning in my chest. I know exactly what the fuck she asks me, and I’m almost nauseous from her inquiry. But she brought up the question. She wants to know. If my girl’s this fucking brave to ask, then I have to be fucking man enough to answer. “Will what hurt?” “When you’re inside me?” Goosebumps rise on my blazing skin from her despondent whisper. Motherfucker. That god damn fucking motherfucker. I hate the proof that bastard hurt her when he fucked her. “I don’t want it to. And if it does, we’ll stop. Because the last thing I will ever do is hurt you.” “I know.” Two words. Two simple words. Two perfect words. Changing my entire fucking world from her effortless agreement to my proclamation. I give her the same response she gives to me when I’ve relieved her worry. “Good. I’m glad you know.” If we’re being completely honest with each,

there’s something I need to admit to her too. “This morning when I told you I wasn’t sorry, that wasn’t completely true.” I talk quickly before she gets the wrong idea. This isn’t about church or God or confession. It’s all about her. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you away from Arturo sooner. I’m sorry for all the times I failed you. I’m sorry–“ Soft hands slide around my cheeks and stunt my words. Shocking me when her thumb rubs across my lips. “You’ve been better to me in the last five minutes than Arturo was the whole time we were married. You don’t have anything to be sorry about.” Sad when a woman’s expectations are so damn low that a back rub and whispers in the dark are the best experience she’s had in bed. Especially in her husband’s bed. Motherfucker. Humbled by her exoneration I can barely speak. But I swear to myself I’ll be everything he wasn’t for her. “I don’t want to focus on the past anymore. Maybe that’s unfair to you because I know you’ve been through a hell I can’t completely understand. Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it a heartbeat. Whatever you need, it’s yours.” “I’m not sure except that I need you.” Fuck me. She blows me away yet again with her courage. “Same here. I realize how much, more and more each day.”

“You love me.” Absolute conviction in her statement. “Yeah, I think pretty much since the moment I met you. I knew in an instant how incredible you are.” The smile on her delicate face reaches all the way to my thudding heart, and I can’t hold back any more. Not when I see her glowing from my words despite the dim light in the otherwise empty room. When she welcomes my touch and my affection. Carefully I palm her hip and roll her onto her back. Pushing up on my elbow and running my fingertips from her forehead past her temple to cup her cheek. Feather light touches seeking permission. Confirming I’ll take my time and never cause her any pain. Deep breaths rise and fall in her chest and a shiver vibrates through her slender body. Slow. Slow. Slow. I remind myself again and again. I kiss across her shoulder and back again to the other side. Tasting the sweet essence of her velvet skin. Drawing down the tiny straps to fully bare her magnificent body to me. Her head tips back, giving me full access to her throat. I bite the little pulse in the hollow of her neck. Scraping the tiny bones with my teeth before working my way down to her sweet round tits. So full and pert they already stand at attention for me beneath the pink fabric. Tugging the lacy edge of

her top down to her waist, I expose her to me completely. Fucking stunning. I stroke up her rib cage and cup her left breast in my hand. “Look angel. See how beautiful you are.” I shift my weight to the side, planking her so she can witness our love making too. Understand how fucking gorgeous she is. Only a quick glance before her eyes lock with mine again. I smile, nodding my reassurance. “You’re amazing princess. So fucking perfect.” I suck that perfect taut rosy nipple into my mouth, and smile against the pulsing nub when her fingers drive through my hair. Holding my head in place like I’m fucking going anywhere. Not when my princess responds so exquisitely from my undivided attention. Sliding my hand under her arching back, I lift her glorious tits higher and deeper. Helping her chase what she needs. From my tongue. From my lips. From me. The most intoxicating moan I’ve ever heard vibrates in her chest. Fuck me if I haven’t given my girl such pleasure. I have to see her face again. I lift my eyes and meet hers. But the ecstasy I expect is missing. Instead…fear. God damn fucking fear. Sheer terror floods her expression, and she inches back from me, squashing the pillow against

the headboard in her urgency to get away. Jerking her top up to cover herself. No. What the fuck have I done? “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I promise I’ll be quiet. You don’t have to get the gag. I’ll be quiet, I swear.” Fucking god damn shit. I slowly push off the mattress and fall back on my heels. Fucking hating her fear. Hating him for putting the terror there. Hating myself for not figuring out how bad he fucked her up before I tried to make love to her. I dig my fist into my thigh to focus on keeping the fury out of my voice. “I will never gag you. I want to hear you. Every breath. Every word. Every moan.” “But, Ar…” I must fail at keeping the rage off my face because she pauses at the mention of his name. “He would get mad when I would cry. I wasn’t supposed to make any noise. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with you. I don’t know what your rules are in here. I —I don’t know what you want.” And now she’s crying. I’ve made her fucking cry. I truly am a bastard. God damn it. So god damn fucking fragile. All it would take is one wrong word to break her. To push her so far I couldn’t get her back. So I don’t use any at all. Instead, I slide next to her, curling her against me and kissing the top of

her head. Comfort her until her sobs subside. Console her while her pulse slows and the anxiety wanes. Draw her tighter to me when her body finally softens and tuck the blankets around her. I try to empty my mind. Not let her sense my anger or my disgust from that bastard’s ghost haunting her. Just focus on the white noise of the heat kicking on and the gift of her bundled in the crook of my arm, her sweet head on my chest. Just her and me. Here and together. And it’s enough. More than enough. I’m relaxed and content holding her. Until delicate fingers brush over my pec and my curious cock jumps to life again from her inquisitive touch. “You’re very muscular.” Fuck me. I hold still as a corpse to keep from ravishing her as she lovingly traces over the ridges. Letting her explore me just like I did her. Giving her complete control that, if I was as smart as I like to fucking think I am, I should have done from the beginning. “That feels good. I like it when you touch me.” She looks up. Her damp cheek sliding easily over my sensitized skin. A bashful smile gracing her lips from my encouragement. “Really?” “Yeah, princess. Really.” A slow nod, seeming to accept this unexpected confirmation. Wrapping the comforter around

herself, she props up on her elbow as if inspecting me with her eyes before she dares to venture farther. I’m beyond desperate for her to venture further. My own body quivers as she traces the ink on my bicep down my forearm to my wrist. “I like your tattoos.” Jesus. I’m barely hanging on. “Thank you.” She turns my hand over. Laying her tiny fingers against my huge ones. Reminding me of the physical differences between us as well as emotional. Only inches from my twitching cock. Please god I almost fucking cry like a pansy ass when she moves back up my arm and strokes over my stomach. Lower and lower. Grazing the edge of my pants with her pinky, where the head of my dick bobs from her nearness. Painfully restrained by my boxer briefs. She meets my gaze again. “Is it okay?” Fuck yes. I can barely speak through gritted teeth I’m wound up so tight. “If you want.” All it takes is for her fingertips to breach my waistband and my hips jerk up. Searching for the ecstasy her proximity drives us to seek. A pink tipped finger gingerly rubs the crown and my fist instantly balls. Craving to touch her, touching me, touching my cock. Awkward with my two layers of clothes, she slides her hand back. Timid to go too far. Fuck that. I fight to keep my voice calm and

level. “I’ll take them off, if that’s okay.” “Yes.” A whisper so soft I barely hear the approval. But she definitely agrees. As slow and cautious as she is, I sit up and then stand. No sudden movements or rush. I refuse to scare her again. Mesmerized, she razor focuses on my hands sliding down the fabric. And my feet kicking off my clothes. And my cock bouncing against my stomach. My mind fills with visions of her losing the sheet, crawling to me on all fours, and letting me fuck that luscious mouth while I twist her hair around my fist. I can’t think of anything else. I almost can’t fucking stand the temptation. But I do. For her. Because I fucking love her and won’t fuck this up. Instead, I keep my mouth fucking shut while she clutches the cover tighter to her body. A defense mechanism I totally hate but completely understand. I watch while her trembling hand reaches for me. Slower than I thought humanly possible until she drags her finger through the cum already pooling on the tip. Jesus Christ. I can’t hold back the hiss between my teeth when she strokes the head. I win the battle to keep from moaning until she wraps her fingers around my shaft and tugs down over the taut skin. Fuck me hard. A growl rips through my chest from sheer pleasure. “Damn angel. That feels so

good.” She startles and cowers a little from my voice. Which I need to fix in a fucking hurry. “It’s okay to talk. We don’t have to be quiet in bed.” No words come, but I almost do when she pumps me again. My thighs ram into the side of the mattress in an effort to get as close to her as possible. Over and over she works me. Tentative but still fucking glorious. “I jacked off like this almost every day since I met you. Imagining it was you touching me instead. But this is so much better than I ever dreamed.” Surprise flickers in her eyes before the flames burst into an inferno that I think is fucking lust. Pleased that I was thinking of her. Wishing that it was her pleasuring me. Desire bolts through my pulsing body like lightening when she clutches me harder, and I’m so close. So fucking close. No turning back. I have to get off. I fucking have to. I coil around her grasp on me and mimic her motion, adding a bit more force and pressure. She doesn’t seem to mind my guidance from what I can tell. Just a fierce concentration lining her exquisite face until I can’t watch her anymore. My eyes clench shut when my balls seize up, and I jerk taut as I explode onto my chest. Thick, hot torrents gurgling up only to stream back down over my fist. “Fuuuuuuuuuck.” I entwine her fingers when she starts to pull

away and force my eyes open. “That was amazing princess.” A rapid flush pinks her cheeks before she glances at our coupled hands. Too shy to hold my gaze despite holding my cock. “I wanted you to like it.” “I did. I loved it.” She lights up from my praise. A genuine smile crossing her face. Never faltering even as I bend down to kiss her. Both of us still clutching my sated dick when I meet her lips. “Thank you angel.” Once she relaxes against the pillows, I nod toward the bathroom. “I’m going to clean up real quick and then I’ll be right back.” I grab my clothes off the floor and hustle to the sink. If I was by myself, I’d just swipe off the stickiness with a towel and toss the mess into the hamper. But for her, I want to be clean and respectful. Damn, I really am a pussy. I scrub myself with hot water before I pull on my joggers again. Ready to love her however she wants me to. The contentedness she instilled in me vanishes the second I return to the bedroom. She curls onto her side, a drowsy smile gracing her relaxed face. Untroubled as she watches me. Except that she lies on the god damn fucking floor. “Good night. Sweet dreams.” I almost ask but I don’t have to. That god damn

fucking motherfucker. Instead, I stride to her and force a smile, holding out my hand. “Up here princess. You’re in the bed with me.” Uncertainty knits her eyebrows. “But I take up too much room. I’ll disturb you while you sleep.” Fuck the everliving fuck. That bastard would fuck her and then shove her onto the floor with those stupid bullshit reasons. “Nope, I can’t sleep without you.” “Okay.” She complies from my authoritative tone, yet doesn’t seem to trust the sincerity behind my words. “If you’re sure.” “I’m more than sure.” I lift up the bedspread and point to the mattress, making her blush again as she climbs in and scoots over. “Good girl.” I follow behind her and drag her to me once my ass hits the sheets. Fuck that hanging off the edge shit to appease that fucking lying bastard’s excuses. She’s mine now, and my princess cuddles with me. My arm and leg drape over hers to prove I mean what I say. She’s not going anywhere unless she wants to. Never leaving because she thinks she has to. I guess she agrees. Her lips press against my shoulder, and I’m instantly rock hard again. Despite my best efforts my cock throbs sheathed between our tangled bodies. Fucking shit if she doesn’t reach down and cup my dick through my pants.

Confirming my desire for her. “You…still want me?” My mind fucking blows that she would have any doubt. That she could still question my desire for her. “Fuck yes, I want you.” I grind myself into her hand, substantiating my claim. A man’s dick never lies. “Remember what I told you before. I always want you.” Long hair rustles against the pillow from her confused head shake. “But after what happened…I thought…I was afraid…” I cup the back of her head and rest my forehead to hers. I can’t be any more clear with my intentions. “I don’t want to frighten you angel. I want to fuck you.” A shuddering breath blows between her swollen lips, and she nods. “I want you too.” With her permission, she’s on her back again in a heartbeat. I slowly lift the hem of her tank and she allows me to slide the top off of her. No trembling or uncertainty this time with her naked in my bed. Bare ivory skin underneath my hands. Her glorious body following my strokes. Lifting her amazing tits closer to my mouth as I drag my lips down the vee they create. “Do what feels right. Don’t hold back because of what anyone told you. Take what you need from me.” Her head bobs when I look up at her, yet she stays motionless. Scared to let go. To feel. To trust.

Me or herself. That’s fine. We’ve got all night to show her what she’s been missing. “Touch yourself.” I lift her fingers to her gorgeous tits, brushing the tips across the taut skin. She giggles, twisting her head side to side, trying to pull her hands away. Her cheeks as gloriously pink as her erect nipples. “I can’t. It’s…” Fucking stunning. “It’s what?” “Embarrassing.” “You watched me come all over myself like a damn teenager. I think you can let me watch you pleasure yourself. I know you can do it.” Determination flashes in her wide eyes. Accepting my challenge. Answering my dare. There’s my princess. She wants to please, but by god she’s going to please herself too. Timid at first she brushes our coupled fingers softly in small circles. Fucking magnificent her gaze never drops from mine. Demonstrating once again how fucking brave and resilient I know she is. Can’t survive what she’s lived through and not be tough. Soon she cups her plump breasts. Messaging deeper and deeper into the thick flesh. Fuck she’s sexy. I’m fucking done when she tugs at the hardened nubs. My hand falls away from hers, and I start working my own dick. Keeping time with each pull. “Fuck angel. You’re fucking beautiful.” The first hint of uncertainty lines her forehead

as she watches me stroke my cock. As if I’m doing her job. Which I’ll let her get back to whenever she wants. But first I need to do my work for her. “How does it feel?” “Good but not as good as when you do it.” It’s on. “Then let me take over.” Fuck me if she keeps going. Her hips lifting. Her slender thigh rubbing against my leg. Directing me where she needs me. I’m going to give her exactly what she wants. I release my dick and tease her clit instead. Flicking the rosebud with my thumb. A shocked cry echoes in the quiet air. “You like that?” “Y-yes. Please yes.” Fuck she’s panting now. “Yeah, I thought so.” I stroke lower and curl a finger inside. Just the tip. Coating the edge with her wetness and slowly glide inside. I guess she really does like my touch more than her own. Her hands fly from her tits to my forearm guiding me as I probe farther into her dripping pussy. Her back arches up and she starts to thrash with the pressure building. Her body begging for more. “Roman please…” No woman has ever called me by my real name when I was fucking them. I’ve never cared about one enough to tell them. I can’t hold back. My fingers aren’t enough. I have to be inside her. I spread her essence on my dick, gliding the head

between her folds. Already drenched with her desire. I cup her face, forcing her eyes to meet mine. Heavy with desire, they glow with anticipation. “Let me make love to you, Viviana.” As amazing as all of this feels, I need to catch a breath and slow the fuck down. I can’t lose us in this frenzy. Can’t pressure her or give her anything to regret. I must have her consent. Please fucking god let her consent. Her cheek nuzzles my palm, answering before her lips part. “Yes.” Unable to hold back any longer, I drop to my forearm and guide myself inside her while her arms coil around my neck. Meeting resistance from her small body, I pause and press my lips to her delicate ear. Needing to assure myself I’m not breaking my promise regarding her fearful question earlier. “Am I hurting you angel?” “No. I just feel…” Her minty breath blows on my neck. “…full.” “Tell me if I do and everything stops. We’ll go as slow as you need but you’ve got to talk to me.” Despite her nod to my commanding tone, I wait. Letting her stretch and accommodate me. Giving her any chance to hesitate or protest. She places gentle kisses of approval on my shoulder as I push deeper inside. Inch by inch in her heaven until I’m fully and finally home. Fucking shaking from the battle to restrain my urge to thrust, I find her

mouth again. Kissing hard and deep. Angling to take all of her. Fuck me if she doesn’t answer. Her tongue exploring me as thoroughly. Moaning and chasing mine. Panting as I pull away, her breathes singe my skin. I finally take charge now that she’s given herself to me. I tangle her hair and palm her cute ass, curling her head into my neck and engulfing her pussy with my cock. Completely controlling her. She fucking loves my restrained dominance. Her lips draw across my throat. Sucking me. Marking me. Owning me. Which she already did a long time ago. “I’m yours, princess. Just like you’re fucking mine.” I’m pounding into her. A fucking crazy man, getting off on her clutching my back. Her mews of pleasure. Her muscles flexing to meet my thrusts. I’m not going to last much longer with this angel accepting my tender affection. Trusting me with her heart and her body. Crying for me as an orgasm rips through her clenching pussy. “I love you Viviana.” “I love you too.” That’s all it takes to push me over the edge. I explode harder than I ever have before. My cock shooting long and deep into her as her walls milk me for all I have to give. Which is exactly what I wanted. I guess she feels the same when her grip on me only tightens when I soften inside her. Like I’m fucking going anywhere.

I smile against her forehead and give her a firm kiss, before rolling us to our sides. Right back to where we started. Only different. Better. Because now we both know the truth. “I didn’t know it could be like that.” She speaks. I stroke over her damp hair. Twisting a long strand around my finger. Both of us glistening from the exertion. “That’s what it should always feel like.” “When you’re in love.” My pussy heart doubles a beat from her gratified expression. “Yeah, because we’re in love.” And, I couldn’t ask for more.

She slumps against me. Exhausted and spent from my third time taking her tonight. I lift my head from her shoulder and check the clock. Well, technically morning I guess. Luckily a couple of more hours until dawn. Because she needs her rest. We’re going to the jewelry store later today. Time to make us official. I stroke down her tangled hair. The braid falling apart pretty quickly once I got ahold of her last night. She doesn’t seem to mind. Just snuggles in deeper. Nuzzling my palm on her cheek. Sighing against my throat while we float. Drunk on our own cocktail of sex and sweat and satisfaction. Fucking paradise. I think I could stay like this forever. Until I hear the hint of a snore. I try to keep from chuckling so I don’t wake her up. Who would have thought my tiny princess would be so unladylike. Good, something to tease her about later. As gentle as I can with her straddling me, I lay

her onto the mattress, and she instantly reaches for me. Pink tipped fingers dragging down my chest and stomach. Stirring up my insatiable cock who isn’t ready for the fun to end now that he knows what he’s been missing. “Roman?” Damn, if I don’t love her calling me that again. “I’m here angel.” Like I’d ever fucking leave her. I take one last long look at her gorgeous body splayed out for me, and slide down next to her. She coils around me holding on with all her might. A simple act that means so much. “Go back to sleep.” “Aren’t we going to box?” Now I really do laugh. My girl’s resilient and persistent. “How about we let the sun come up first before we decide how we spend the day?” Even with her eyes closed, she smiles a gorgeous smile. Her bliss is contagious, and I can’t hold back my secret. “I’m buying you a ring.” That wakes her up in a hurry, and she struggles to sit up. “A boxing ring?” Only Viviana. I pull her back to me. Holding her tighter than I should but can’t seem to stop myself. “No angel an engagement ring. I want to make things between us official.” It seems impossible with her already huge grin, but I swear she’s never looked happier. “You really mean it?” “I mean everything I tell you, especially about

being my wife.” Fuck me if that word doesn’t make me fully hard. “I want you to pick out what you like since you’ll be wearing it for the rest of your life.” Almost as if hypnotized, she remains silent. Absorbing everything I tell her. “We’re going to move all of your stuff in here too. I’m going to call my parents later and invite them over so I can introduce them to my fiancée.” Finally her lips part and she lets out a knowing giggle. “I guess we do already know what we’re doing today.” I love her like this. Calm yet playful. Comfortable in my bed and with me. Now that she’s fully awake, we need to celebrate. I nuzzle the side of her throat, sucking on the sweet skin. Welcoming her body arching into mine. “Always right.” “I like the sound of that.” Distracted and breathless, her voice wobbles while her hands find me. Stroking my cock that’s as deliriously happy as I am. Confirming I can take her again. I sit up, dragging her up with me, and flip her over onto her knees. Moving quickly to curl over her back to keep from frightening her with this new position. “I’m going to take you from behind angel so I can play with that sweet clit of yours while I fuck you.” “O-okay.”

I guide her small hands to the headboard and curl them around the iron rails. Well aware how weak she is after our long night. “Don’t worry if you can’t hold on. I’ll never let you fall. I will always be here to catch you.” A sharp gasp blows between her lips from my words in her ear and my hand between her thighs. Already wet as I stroke her. Cupping her pussy so the heel of my palm works her clit while my fingers dip between her folds. Rubbing a spot deep inside that makes her body jolt with the force of a shockwave and a mewl purr in her slender throat. My forearm slides under her bouncing tits, and I position her narrow hips for me to slide in. “Open your legs wider for me princess.” Immediate compliance from my command. My own voice raspy and thick with need. I can only rub the head of my cock in her essence a few times before I have to push inside. Slow and decadent as her body accepts me and her ass pushes back to my thighs. Seeking all of me. Which is exactly what I’m going to give her. Once I’m fully seated, I thrust deliberate yet unhurried. No need to rush. Not with my future wife who I’m going to fuck every day from now on. “I cannot wait to marry you.” “Because you love me?” A sharp stab to my heart from her question. Always needing to confirm since she’s never been

loved before and doesn’t quite have the emotion figured out. “Yes, because I love you.” “I love you too.” Every. Damn. Time. My resolve crumbles when she utters those words, and I plunge into her. Over and over. Answering her breathless cries of pleasure with my dick buried as far as I can. The force overwhelms her, and she crumples. Unable to keep up with me. And I catch her just like I promised. One hand between her legs teasing her pulsing nub bulging into my palm from me overflowing within her and the other curled around her dainty throat relishing the feel of her moans under my fingers. She’s so close. Erratic and crazed, grinding into me, needing to fly. Almost as much as I do. “Tell me you’ll marry me. Tell me you’re going to be my wife.” My command pushes her over the edge, and she cries out in affirmation. With her agreement, I lose myself too and explode, pulling her tighter against me. Roaring out my release deep inside her as she comes with me. Swearing into her shoulder that I’ll never let her go. I lay us down and flip her to face me the way she likes. The way we both like. Kissing her even though she’s already gone. My princess overcome with exhaustion. I give into what we both need and drift off to sleep too. Finally sated to have my world complete.

Excitement rolls through her despite how drowsy she is. Her small hand squeezing mine as I lead her upstairs. Five hours of sleep can’t touch more than eight hours of love making. Which was fucking amazing. Yet, and I roll my eyes at myself for behaving like a pussy ass girl, the talking was even better. Hell that she would even speak at all is practically a fucking miracle after the bullshit that bastard put into her head. And once she finally trusted me enough to let herself go, fuck was she sexy with her sighs and groans and cries. Making my cock perk up now just thinking about her moans. But all that has to wait. My girl wants to box. Which I love and loathe. She impresses me every time with her spirit and energy and drive. But I fucking can’t stand the emotion the punches stir in her. I really don’t understand why she wants to torture herself. Maybe part of the healing process. I just don’t know. But I can’t seem to tell her no. “Do you want to try something different this time?” She lifts her head from watching me tape her wrists. Only a slight frown this time. More confused than upset. At least I didn’t scare her like last time. “You can hit coaching mitts I hold instead of the

bag. Gives you a narrower focus and improves your accuracy. And we get to work together.” All of her hesitation fades away with my last reason. “I’d like that too.” “Good. I’m going to run upstairs and grab them from my gym bag.” Not completely dishonest I guess. I do love partnering with her. I just hate fucking see her cry. I kiss her cheek, the warm skin flushing under my lips. “I’ll be right back, angel.” I hustle down the steps, through the kitchen, and into the laundry room. Blanching at the stench when I drag out the duffle and slide the zipper. Damn, I can’t believe I forgot to throw this stuff into the wash. I toss the ripe clothes into the machine and the shoes into the garage to air out before grabbing the mitts. I hope she really does like this style. I hear the smack of vinyl before I see her. Again and again with angry words I can’t make out until I reach the doorway. Fuck. The force of her hits belie her tiny form. Too much fury to reign in despite her size. “You treated me like I was worthless.” Punch. “You made me think I was worthless.” Punch “But Roman…” Punch. Punch. “I’m going to believe him now.”

Punch. “Not you.” Punch “I’m not going to believe you anymore.” Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch. If she was a guy, I’d be pulling her off her opponent by now. Before he was dead. Before she fucking killed him. But I wait. Allowing her to work out her fury. With her arm shaking, I know she won’t last much longer. Punch. Punch. “Roman loves me.” Punch. “I’m only going to believe him.” Punch. Panting and trembling, she steps back. Letting her arms fall to her sides. Her head tips forward. No longer wanting to look at him. Which I can’t blame her. I hated his fucking face too. “Princess?” She whirls around and pure joy sparks in her expression. Running is kind of awkward with the huge gloves on her hands, but they don’t slow her down. I scoop her up in tandem with her jump, and she coils around me so tight her heartbeat pounds though my tee shirt. “You okay?” Legs squeeze tighter around my waist and silky hair sweeps up and down my cheek. “Yes. Now that you’re here.” “I’m always here angel.”

I hold her until her breathing slows and the tension releases from her muscles. “You ready to try the mitts? “Yes please.” She slides down my front and gazes up at me without any reservations. Just relief. And excitement. “I’m ready.” We practice until her body wobbles and all her strength vanishes. She’s sweaty and flushed and gorgeous. A much better session with her anger resolved. I give her an approving head bob while I release her hands. “Great job as always. Do want to go ahead and shower, or keep me company while I lift?” Forever timid, she flicks her gaze to her bare feet before she answers. “I want to stay, if that’s okay.” A glorious shiver vibrates under my hands as I tug her closer and kiss her forehead. “It’s always okay.” I slide on my usual weights and lie on the bench while she stretches out on the mat. “I kind of been thinking for a while that…” I kind of feel like she waited until I was flat on my back to start the conversation. She never does things without a reason, so I keep raising and lowering my bar. Giving her the opportunity she wants to share with me what’s worrying her. “I’m not sure I can have children. We tried for three years, and I never got pregnant.”

Good thing I’m underneath a two hundred seventy-five weight that I can’t throw. Otherwise I’d probably be trashing my drywall and losing my breakfast over the idea of them “trying.” Motherfucker. I keep my focus on the smooth planks of the ceiling and attempt to steady my tone. “Did you ever go to the doctor or anything?” A defeated laugh bubbles in her throat. The only subject capable of triggering the bitterness she normally keeps locked down. “Yes, many times. I think they performed every test imaginable, and they couldn’t find anything wrong. Dr. Stoddard said there wasn’t any reason I couldn’t get pregnant. Which made Arturo even more furious at me.” My hands ache from gripping the bar so tight. I’m sure he showed her well how angry he was. “Maybe it was him? Low sperm count or something? Did he ever get checked?” “I don’t know. He didn’t tell me those kinds of things. I never knew what he did or where he went when he left the house.” For all the bastard’s faults, he never did cheat on her. Surprising, after the way he treated Viviana, that the guys never had to take him to a woman’s place or sneak one to him during their entire marriage. But Harrison said Arturo got his own tests before the wedding and never strayed. Guess he wanted to make sure he didn’t endanger his

child. Well, really his windfall. Even if he didn’t give a damn about his wife’s health. I know I’m clean too. My semi-annual physicals with the agency always checked and since I’ve only fucked my hand for the past two years, no worries there. But I was a selfish bastard not to bring up pregnancy or use a condom last night. I just didn’t want anything to come between us. But now her worry does. “Whether you can or can’t, doesn’t change how I feel about you. Or us. Nothing’s changed princess.” She crawls over to me. Sexy as hell, but that’s not her intent. Not when her eyes glisten and her small hand touches my rib cage. Wanting to be close but not interfere with my workout. Fuck that. Nothing’s more important than setting her straight about my priorities. I drop the bar into the arcs of the black metal stand straddling my head and reach for her. Pulling her up with me as I rise, so we’re level. As much as we can be with our height difference. I cup her beautiful face as she looks up to me. Loving how she fits so perfectly in my palms. “I messed up not talking to you about this last night. But I was so fucking blown away to have you in my bed, to finally be able to love you, I didn’t. That was my mistake. But I’m telling you now. I love you and whatever comes our way, we’ll deal with it together. Good or bad. Happy or sad. Doesn’t

matter. But always together.” Her graceful head tilts in my fingers already shaking in argument. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed.” “Not possible. You could never disappoint me. And I will try my damnedest not to disappoint you.” I charm a smile and a whisper out of her. “Always together.” “Yep, you got it angel.” I pull her into a hug and welcome her arms sliding around me. I think she finally gets it.

“I need a favor.” Searching for better reception, I switch my cell to my other ear and take a few steps sideways. Farther away from the tallest pines that create a gorgeous view but shitty service. The railing is rougher under my hand than I expect. A project for this spring to sand and re-stain the deck. Maybe add some lounge chairs with plump cushions. For Viviana. I smile like a pussy at the thought. “Sure, what’ve you got?” “A woman.” My father’s deep laugh rattles through the phone. “If you don’t know what to do with her by

now, I can’t help you, son.” “I rescued her from her abusive husband about a week ago.” “And now she’s living with you?” Incredulous because I’ve been solo for so long. Years since I’ve cared about anyone. And never, ever brought anyone here. “Yeah, I love her.” Silence. Questioning my sanity although I have no questions at all. Well not about her anyway. Or the certainty of my feelings for her. But I can see why he would be surprised. “She’s gorgeous, Dad. I mean fucking unbelievable. Sweet and smart and strong.” “How does she feel about you? That’s the only doubt I have. Last night I was everything she wanted. But in the light of day, when reality sets in that the damage he caused can’t be eliminated so quickly and easily, I’m not sure we’re really as far as I want to believe. “I think she loves me.” “You think? Roman…” “She’s fucking traumatized. I mean he beat her, starved her. She was a fucking prisoner. She loves me as much as she’s able. Her life’s never been normal. She’s not normal in the traditional sense, and I can’t expect her to be.” I fucking hate that I’m almost yelling. Despise how defensive I sound. She’s fucking perfect just the way she is.

“How is she handling everything now? With you?” Sympathy fills his tone from my harsh words. Calming me that he really does understand despite his anxiety. “Kind of two steps forward, one step back. She gets nervous. Unexpected things upset her. She’s fearful to speak her mind. Scared to do anything she thinks will upset me. Follows me around which I love. But I’m not sure if it’s because she really wants to or isn’t sure what else to do.” “You know I’ll do whatever I can to help you. And her.” I knew he would once he got past his shock. His heart’s even softer than mine. “Thanks Dad.” “You’re welcome.” And the normal gruffness returns. Can’t reveal too much vulnerability to his son. “So what’s the favor you need from me?” “Well you and mom. Maybe Grant and Jenna too. She’s been alone except for the asshole since she was twelve. She needs to feel loved, to be part of a family that’s more than just me. Can you come for dinner this weekend?” “At your house? With your girlfriend? To eat Sunday dinner?” In spite of his concern, he still takes the opportunity to give me a hard time. Laughter and shock mingling in his questions. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Are you coming or not?”

“Hell yes, I’m coming. I need to meet this girl who has you finally settling down. And I don’t think I can hold your mother back once she hears the news. She’ll probably jump in the car and drive up there today if I don’t hide her keys.” “Well tell her we won’t be home. We’re going ring shopping.” He’s still roaring with laughter when I tap the screen. Smiling despite myself. Good to make the old folks happy even if they’re annoying as hell about it. I shake my head and twist around. Ready to get back to my girl. Hopefully she’s waiting for me in our bed. A jacket —my fucking jacket —lies on the wooden slats in front of the sliding glass door. Heat roars through me. Viviana. Viviana was here, listening to what I said. She brought me my coat, and I broke her fucking heart. Fuck! “Viviana!” I shoot through the doorway and fly to our bedroom. Nothing. “Where are you princess?” Kitchen, den, and family room all empty. I race down the hall. The guest room door is closed. The doors are never fucking supposed to be closed. I twist the knob and shove inside. My heart beating in my ears. She sits on the bed staring at her hands. Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. “Viviana, I’m not sure what you heard, but let’s talk about it.” “I’m very sorry that my behavior is strange. I know that I’m not normal. I know that I am bothersome. I know I’m stupid and annoying and–” “No angel. You’re not.” I’m freaking the fuck out to hear those bastard’s descriptions come out of her mouth. Along with mine. God damn it. She’s never been hysterical before. Not once since I’ve known her has she been this frantic. And I’m the stupid motherfucker who caused it to happen. “I was just explaining to my Dad what you’ve been through.” “I promise I’ll do better. I’ll stay in here —right here —until you come for me.” Jerking hands smooth the bedspread, over and over. “And I’ll read the newspapers and eat cantaloupe and stay quiet and not follow you around and…and…and not cause any more problems.” Sobs rack her tiny body. Rocking back and forth in a daze. Not even with me anymore. “Please, please I’m begging you. Don’t send me away. I don’t want to go back to Dante.” She needs gentle. Patience. Calmness. But I can’t. Not when she’s crying. Not when she mentions that name. Not when she pleads with me and thinks I’m going to fucking make her leave. I jerk her off the bed like the mattress is on fucking fire and clutch her against me. Carrying her the

fuck out of here. She doesn’t belong there. She belongs with me. “That will never fucking happen. I love you and you’re mine. You live here with me and nothing will ever change that.” Whimpers muzzle into my chest. She doesn’t respond to my words or my touch. Doesn’t reach for me or cling to me. Just lets me control her body however I want. But it’s her frail mind I need to get back. Mine too. I’m reckless and crazy. Acting like a fucking mad man running down the hall with her. But I need to remind her where she stays. Where she sleeps. Where she’s mine. I shove down the comforter and lay her on the mattress. Still drenched in the scent of our earlier love making. Curling around the ball she’s squeezed herself into, I hold her tight. So damn tight as she cries into my chest. “Please angel. You have got to believe me. I will never, ever send you away.” I drive my fingers through her long hair, still damp from the shower I thought she was taking, and lift her face up. Her gorgeous splotchy tearstreaked face. I’m too rough. Too harsh. Forceful and physical, bordering on violent but I have to make her understand. “I love you and you’re going to live here and marry me even if you’re scared or angry or disappointed that you’re stuck with a fucking stupid asshole for the rest of your life because I’m not letting you go.” A few shuddering breaths before swollen lips

meet mine. Urgent and insistent, seeking entrance into my mouth. Guilt whispers in the back of my head —wrong, wrong, wrong. But I can’t stop myself. I let her in. Tasting her pain. Hearing her hiccupping sobs vibrating on my tongue. Feeling her death grip on me as her hands slide around my shoulders and her body sheathes mine. So eager to get close. Yet nothing’s close enough with her fingers digging into my shirt. That I need off. I need naked. I need her. Breaking away from her embrace, I rip off my tee while she waits. Although impatiently, already reaching for me with the fabric still sliding over my head. Tangling with my arms while I tug off her silky purple negligée. “I’m here angel. I’m not going anywhere.” “I don’t want to either.” Scared. My angel has never been more scared. Worse than Arturo because at least she knew what to expect. He was always a cruel bastard. From beginning to glorious end. But me? I offered her hope. Pleaded for her trust. Begged for her confidence. And then fucking destroyed her faith in me with a few stupid misunderstood words. Before I can answer, reassure her, she kisses me again. Salty and desperate and inconsolable. Rolling onto her back, her fingertips dig into my shoulders. Frantic to pull me down with her.

Pointless with our size difference for her to try and manipulate me, but I give in easily. Covering her small body with mine. Nestling between her legs. Cupping her head as I place soft kisses on her lips and cheeks and throat. She’s taut and tense underneath me. Arching to get closer. Grinding her pussy into my jeans. Her eyes never drifting shut. Locked on mine. Watching me. Studying me. For what I don’t know. No fucking clue what she’s searching for. “Are you okay?” “Yes.” I don’t believe her. I reach between us. Wetness coats my fingers. She’s ready but something’s off. More than just her uncertainty. I can feel it in my bones. “Do you want me to make love to you?” “Yes, please. That’s all I want.” Me too. I lift up only to shove down the rest of my clothes. Hating the skepticism in her shiny eyes and the trembling of her rigid body. Almost as if she thinks I’m going to climb off the bed all together rather than just kick off my pants and boxer briefs. As soon as I’m between her thighs again, she coils around me. Peppering me with kisses matching my affection for her. Uncertain if she’s convincing me or herself that she wants this. But I can’t tell her no. Not when she needs my affirmation. The crown of my cock slips easily between her drenched folds and her hips lift.

Welcoming me. Encouraging me. Guiding me deeper inside. Fuck me if she’s not perfect. Tight and hot and wet for me. “God, I love you princess.” “So that means I’m staying, right? You’re happy with me again? You won’t make me leave?” Fucking motherfucker. A fucking punch to the gut. My head hangs low as I plank over her. I have fucked up so fucking bad. She fucks me to appease me. So much apprehension and terror swirling in her eyes waiting for my answer. “You were never leaving. I swear to god I was never sending you away.” A furious head bob brushes our foreheads together. Crazy with relief. Her body finally softens, and she smiles. So fucking happy. While I’m fucking broken. “Say you believe me Viviana. Tell me you knew that you would always be with me.” Fear flashes in her huge eyes from my harsh tone. The intensity of my demand. She flinches and pushes back into the mattress. Fuck I hate myself for scaring her but I have to fucking know. “I…” She can’t seem to respond. But I can read the answer in her face. The argument playing out to lie or tell the truth. “I don’t know what to do.” “You don’t have to do anything.” Fuck. I’m fucking angry while my cock’s inside her. Holding

her down. Causing her to fear me. Like god damn fucking Arturo. This time it’s me who brings that motherfucker to our bed. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry I hurt you after I promised you I never would.” Because at this point the wound to her heart is way worse than any damage to her body. I tip down and kiss her. Tasting the tears on her swollen lips. Hating her trembling hands on my back while I thrust into her. Slow and sincere. I have to make this up to her somehow. Someway. I maintain this leisurely pace. Loving her gently. Kissing her deeply. Reminding her how I feel. “Did you hear the other things I told my Dad? How smart and brave and gorgeous you are? How much I love you?” Her head shakes against my shoulder. Of course she didn’t. “That’s why I was inviting him and my mom to come meet you. I want to introduce them to my amazing fiancée. To see how proud I am that a woman as wonderful as you wants to be here with me.” “I do. I do want to be here with you.” A breathless whisper that heats my skin like fuel on a fire. “Good. Then there’s no room for any doubt or questions between us.” Or anything else. My body takes over now. Falling into the natural rhythm of making love to my girl. I plunge deeper and harder into her sweet

heaven. Cradling her head and palming her thigh to keep her exactly where I need her. Close and immobile for my cock buried in her pussy. Our slick skin sliding together over and over as she meets my every thrust. “Do you love me angel?” “Y —yes.” Even more important. “Do you know I love you?” Her damp cheek sweeps up and down against mine and the ache throbbing deep in my gut moves to my balls. Ready to get off. Ready to get her off. “Then let me hear you say it before I fill you up with my come princess.” A hard swallow interrupts her panting in my ear. “I love you. I love you as much as you love me.” The last word dies in a cry as she explodes around me. Jerking and flying, shaking through the aftershocks while I pound into her. But I don’t release her limp body, holding her tight while I finally detonate too. Secure in the knowledge that she nor any of the babies I put in her belly will ever leave me.

It’s been a

long ass week. So much damn tension still spiking between us. Fucking killing me because I can’t blame Arturo this time. It’s all fucking me. I glance over at her, but her eyes remain laser focused on the yellow and green gift resting on her legs. No smile or excitement for the baby shower. At least she still holds my hand with her ringless finger. I don’t want her to accept my proposal unless she means it. And as much as I fucking hate it, and myself, for what I’ve done, I know she won’t. “I’m going to grab an umbrella from the back and then I’ll come around for you.” “Okay, thank you.” Not just an automatic response any more. I know she’s grateful. More than appreciative of my care and concern for her. But she’s too defeated to offer more. The past six days she’s run the spectrum from fear to humiliation to numb. Simply existing. Ensuring a self-fulfilling prophecy from my misconstrued label of damaged. Maybe she

wondered that about herself too. Now there’s no doubt after I so blatantly and cruelly confirmed how broken she is. How broken I think she is. I pull open her door, and she quickly slides out of her seat and grasps my hand, head down as always. So docile and compliant my chest aches. Breaking my promise not to rush her, I draw her to me in a one-arm embrace trying to shield her from the fat droplets beating down on the vinyl above us while not smashing the present she hugs to herself. “You look beautiful angel. I want you to relax and have fun tonight. These are our friends, and they want us here. They want you here because they know how amazing you are.” “I will try really hard to be normal for you. I promise I won’t do anything to embarrass you.” Damn. She could slice me from throat to gut with a jagged blade, and I don’t think the pain would hurt any worse. A new low for us that she makes the same promise to me that Arturo berated her with the last time he beat her. Choking her into unconsciousness from his claim of her embarrassment to him. Small feet hustle to keep up with my long strides as I guide her into the open garage. Strewn with damp jackets across the stacks of clear plastic storage bins and puddles spotting the smooth concrete from the dripping fabric. I toss my own black handle to the ground once she’s protected

from the downpour and cup her drawn face. Crouching down to her eye level. “Don’t you know that I love you just the way you are? That there’s nothing you could ever do to embarrass me?” A dull gaze meets mine. No, she doesn’t know. She doesn’t believe. “Viviana! You guys are here!” Mia’s welcome bounces through the wide space, and she holds out her arms long before she reaches my girl. Her gait growing slower as her belly grows bigger. “Thank you so much for having us.” “Of course! I’m just so happy you came! Hayes is making his famous cocktails and dinner is almost ready.” She loops her arm through Viviana’s and leads her inside. Leaving me behind. Which is fine. My girl definitely needs her more than me at this moment. Probably the whole damn night. Nowak talks in her ear while she shrugs off her coat. He looks as pleased as his wife that Viviana has arrived. Both of them seeming to sense her wounded spirit in desperate need of kind attention. “Now this is an old family recipe my grandmother passed down to me from her grandparents. The alcohol is one hundred ninetytwo proof, which is the strongest you can buy. It’s almost too dangerous to drink on its own. Dumb kids get themselves killed trying to do shots of it. So

you always have to mix it with something else. This one is strawberry-lemonade that I made and left in the freezer for about a month.” He pours the slushy mixture into a short tumbler. That I almost want to yank away from her. The festive concoction may be a tradition, but no one endangers my princess. If he gives her too much, it’ll be me who embarrasses her from the fury I dole out on him. “You have to drink it in small amounts before it melts and the alcohol separates too much from the juice.” “Na Zdrowie!” Their glasses clink together from his toast, and she smiles before taking a small sip. Big eyes grow even wider and she nods. “It’s strong, but it’s really good.” “I’m glad you like it. There’s plenty, so once you finish that one, help yourself to more.” He chuckles and nods toward me, leaning against the bar. “Because I know Stieler here makes a great chauffer.” “Yes he does.” This guy’s talking smack. I’ve never driven his ass anywhere. But his dumb comments don’t matter. Only her response. A connection between us no one else understands. All the way back to when I was just her bodyguard taking care of her.

Then and now. Pride floods her soft voice as she meets my eyes. Until I wink and she blushes, returning her gaze to her cup. His mother-in-law impatiently waves her oven mitted hand at him and frowns. Her sharp stare boring into him. “Put that away for now Hayes. I’m getting the lasagnas out and need the counter space.” Her focus jerks to the woman gathering colorful bags stuffed with tissue paper off the kitchen table. “Thank you Maria for taking those into the other room.” “You’re welcome.” She squeezes between the line forming for the improvised buffet while I tug Viviana closer. Mia’s mom doling out heaping plates of steaming pasta while Hayes opens silver labeled bottles. He gestures to me. “Are you joining us for the board meeting on Thursday? We’ve got to get a game plan together to fight this annexation.” Before I can answer, Viviana engages him. “They want to annex Lake Wallerton?” He lights up from her innocuous question and tosses his cork screw onto the dishtowel. Ready to unload his campaign spiel. And, here we go. “They want to, but they won’t succeed. We’re not paying higher taxes for less services. And I have the feeling we’re going to have a battle over the zoning for those of us who rent out our houses

during the summer. Some kind of fine line distinction between seasonal sublet versus weekly rental. That’s going to really get pricy with lawyers involved and people losing money over lost bookings if it’s not resolved soon. People are already wanting to make reservations for two summers from now. It’s a total financial disaster in the making.” Her troubled gaze flits to me from his rambling. My angel worries for nothing. I brush my thumb across her slender fingers curled in mine. “It’s no big deal. Doesn’t affect us at all.” The little crease in her forehead remains despite my nonchalance. “I mean we’ve got to‒” “Hayes!” Mia finally shuts her husband down. “Their food’s getting cold. Let them eat.” A hardy nod from her reprimand and then he laughs. Realizing his faux pas against his guests’ comfort. Finally, now we can enjoy our meal. After we take our seats, I lean closer to my angel and kiss her temple. “Don’t let him worry you. It’s really fine.” Her small shoulder rubs against my chest as she accepts my affection. “But you spend so much money on me, and I‒” I brush the tip of my finger over her parted lips, and I swear her body responds to the gentle caress. A small gasp as a shiver jolts her slight body.

“Believe me angel.” “Okay.” Now I’m the one to almost shudder. Fuck her whisper is sexy as hell. “Good girl.” The garlic bread’s amazing, and the wine’s even better. Especially with Viviana enjoying the merlot instead of Hayes’ risky cocktail. Adorable with her cheeks blazing scarlet from the alcohol and her demeanor calmer than earlier. Although I don’t want her relaxed because of the booze. I want her relaxed because of me. At least she’s enjoying herself. Impressing me that she still has room for the turtle cheesecake after the feast we were just served. Glad to see her appetite is back too after she barely ate at all last week. “Come on, let me show you the nursery.” Mia speaks to Viviana but three of the other women at our table hop up too. Out of habit, she looks to me for approval. My gorgeous sweet princess. I smile and nod to her. “See you in a few minutes.” I don’t like being separated from her, but I know she’s safe. My gaze sweeps across the other men, talking about the games tonight and Monday. All of them familiar faces from the event at the lodge. Except for the oldest man, who I assume to be Mia’s father the way her mother keeps ordering him around. He seems immune to her incessant barking. Just smiles and nods and says ‘yes dear’ on

repeat. While I pretend to care about the point spread and the twisted ankle of the star forward who’s been the talk of the entire season but may not be well enough to play in an hour. Boisterous laughter explodes from the living room, and I wander over to the doorway. Not wanting to stifle her but she can’t feel abandoned either. Of course my princess sits as demurely as she can on the edge of the huge recliner. Her legs crossed at the ankle and her hands on her lap while Mia and two of the other ladies sprawl on the sofas. The blond even taking her shoes off with her bare feet dangling over the side of the leather arm. Giggly and flush-faced from the booze, that goes down just as easy after dinner as it did during the meal. Although Mia seems drowsy too with her droopy eyes and hand slowly stroking over her belly despite her absolute sobriety. “Don’t take this the wrong way Viviana, but your boyfriend’s really hot.” The redheaded lady —Denise I think —shrieks and points at her friend. “Mia! That’s terrible.” Mia’s head rolls side to side against the cushion in frustration. Her eyes clenched shut. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ve just been so horny lately with all these stupid pregnancy hormones. I mean Hayes is big below the belt, if you know what I mean, and gets the job done. But Roan is so yummy and muscly. I just want to lick him.”

What the fuck? Is this what women really talk about when men aren’t around? Viviana seems just as shocked as I do. Her face redder than I thought possible. While the other girls just laugh and laugh. Jesus. Denise leans closer to Viviana. The burgundy liquid in her glass sloshing dangerously close to the rim of her glass dangling in her long fingers above the thick white carpet. “You can tell us. What’s he really like in bed?” A stage whisper that I can hear from here. They really are tipsy. Viviana squirms in her seat, her head tilting in uncertainty. Battling whether to go with the flow and gossip with her new friends, or maintain her normally sophisticated and modest behavior. None of the ladies utters a word when she slowly looks up. “My Roan…” A bashful smile shrouds her delicate face. “He treats me like a princess.” Raucous cheers echo loud enough to stall the conversation in the kitchen. The men probably as aware as I am the women are talking about us. Fuck, I can’t believe she’s talking about me. My cock jumping to life too from her admission. Missing her as much as I do. Chair legs scrape across the hardwood as the guys abandon their discussion to join in the women’s conversation. Or probably more accurate —defend themselves from the stories starting to be

unleashed that make my girl’s face grow even more crimson. I can’t hold back either and stride to her, needing to be with her. Needing to touch her and hold her and fucking reassure her that we’re going to be okay. She mimics my smile and scooches over to make room for me, but I pull her onto my lap instead. No one seems to notice my obnoxious possessive antics as the other men find their own women. Two of the ladies who ate at the dining room table with their husbands carry in the gift bags and boxes from the side table, and Mia’s mom brings in snacks everyone is too stuffed to eat. Surprisingly she acquiesces to her daughter’s request to sit down and relax, scooting into one of the kitchen chairs her father sets next to his son-inlaw. The best part is Viviana cuddling into me. Chaste yet deliberate as she lays her head on my chest, and I twist on the overstuffed cushion so she can watch Mia and Hayes unwrap their presents. Maybe as hopeful as I am that will be us someday soon.

Now I get it. When I drop down behind her and tug

her back to my chest, I understand why she sits on the floor in front of the fireplace rather than the sofa like she normally does. The spot provides a clear view into the kitchen where I was just pulling out steaks from the freezer for tomorrow. My girl’s trying to overcome the comment I made about her following me around. Bravely changing clothes and making her way to the living room all by herself yet still needing to see me. Be near me. Make sure I am close. When what she doesn’t seem to understand is how close I want her. My lips drag across the graceful curve of her neck, and I breathe in her pure essence. Grounding me stronger than an iron bolt. “I’ve missed holding you like this angel.” “Me too.” Her pensive tone confirms my suspicion that her thoughts are spinning. Worrying over something that I probably fucked up. Again. My hands slide to her narrow shoulders, and I roll my thumbs over the knot of her spine. Hoping to release the tight muscles. A sharp yelp burns my ears as she jerks away, scooting around to face me. Trembling as her head twists violently and her fingers clutch her throbbing throat. Protecting herself from the violence she’s too accustomed to let down her guard completely. God damn that bastard. I stay as still as I can with the fury gripping me and keep my palms flat

on my thighs. Instead of balling them into fists that ache to beat that motherfucker all over again. “I was just massaging your back. Just…a…massage.” Speaking slow and calm, I catch her gaze. Blinking back tears while her chest heaves. “I love you too much to choke you. I would never put my hands on you like that.” A slow nod but she doesn’t come closer. Doesn’t come back to me. Only bends her shaking legs, tucking her knees under her chin, and watches me. Waiting to see what I’m going to do next. Killing me how forlorn and lost she looks. Huddled into herself and relegated to the god damn floor again. “What were you thinking about before I came in?” “Mia invited me to go to the movies with her and her friends next weekend. She said a new romcom is coming out. I don’t even know what that is. I’ve never been to a movie theater before…” She swallows hard, smothering a sob bubbling in her deep inhale. “But I want to. I really, really want to.” “Then you should.” Regardless how much the separation stresses me to be apart from her. I’ll figure out some way to protect her. Because damn it, she’ll go and she’ll have a fabulous time. “You were right about what you said. I’m not normal but I want to be.” Fuck me. “Being invited to go places with your

friend is very normal.” That makes her smile which is contagious, and I grin in return. “I have a friend.” I lift up two fingers. Reminding her she has one in me too. Hopeful she still wants so much more than friendship, but that’s where we started and will never change. “Two friends.” Her body relaxes, and I hold out my hands. Giving her the choice. Praying she’ll take my offer. Hoping she’ll accept my apology for scaring her. Slender fingers grasp mine, and I pull her to me. Her silky cream chemise sliding her cute ass across the tangled blanket and revealing more of her luscious thighs and matching panties. God damn she’s stunning. Once she’s close enough, I slowly lift each foot, kissing the top smooth skin, and set them on each side of my hips. Sheathing her body to mine, I hold her in place with my ankles crossed behind her lower back. “I liked it when you called me ‘My Roan’ at the party.” She has nowhere to go with my forehead pressed to hers. She can’t hide or lie or stall. “You heard that?” “I heard everything.” My girl sleeps in my bed. Always. Regardless of any issues between us. But I haven’t been inside her for five nights, and I think

both of us are ready for more than just cuddling. “Can I make you my princess again?” She squirms against me. Her hardened nipples straining against the thin fabric of her negligee. “Yes.” All it takes is her breathless whisper against my mouth and I’m rock hard. My fingers eagerly slip under the hem of her nightie and run up her quivering torso to jerk the gown over her head. God damn she’s fucking beautiful. Naked. Smiling. And, sitting on my fucking lap. I am one lucky motherfucker. I lay her back on the blanket. The inquisitive gaze following me as I slide the ribbons curling around her hips down her thighs and toss the bikini onto the carpet. Savoring her exquisite body bared to me. Gold and orange shadows flicker on her delicate ivory skin. Her back arching in magnificent response to my fingertips trailing from the hollow of her throat, between her perfect tits, over her flat stomach to palm her smooth, pink pussy. Creating a sweet whimper to bubble in her mouth when I thumb over the nub, soft as rose petals, hidden between her folds. “You’re like the one ninety-two angel. So fucking powerful and gorgeous, I can’t take you straight.” I move to my elbows and slide my hands under her cute little ass to lift her to my mouth. Making her cry out when I lap her wetness. “Not

yet anyway. I need to mix you with something first so you don’t kill me.” A genuine giggle murmurs in her throat, and she raises her hips higher. Needing more from me that I’m perfectly happy to give her. Providing me with an excellent opportunity to nip at her erect clit. All pink and swollen and glorious. The laugh turns into a shriek when my teeth scrape the sensitized skin. Pure pleasure flowing through me from her ecstasy. Only needing to lick a few more times before she comes into my mouth. Her body straining while the pleasure rolls through her and onto my tongue. Fucking tastes like heaven just like I knew she would. I kiss up her body while her fingers drag across my scalp. Keeping me in check. A chuckle against her tit in my mouth. My dainty angel already well aware she owns me. Just like I want her to. I lathe her other nipple marking her as my possession even though no one will her see her naked again except for me. “Mine.” I lick across her chest and suck the tender skin above her heart hard enough to leave more proof of my obsession. I trail up to her mouth, letting her taste herself on my lips. “All mine.” “My Roman.” She answers with her own claim. Coiling around my neck and plunging her tongue inside. Now that’s settled permanently between us, my

girl’s getting thoroughly fucked. I release her just long enough to guide my cock inside her wetness and seat myself deep inside with one long drive. Thrusting over and over while she pants into my mouth. Both of us slick and damp from the force and the heat. Burning as hot as the fire, which will die out long before I’m done with her.

She’s nervous. And totally adorable. My parents already love her because I do. She has absolutely nothing to worry about. Telling her isn’t the same as her seeing —feeling —it herself. She’ll know soon enough. I smile at her while she dries her hair and I shave. Funny how something as mundane as getting ready is a million times better with her beside me. Especially when I think about her being in front of me not too long ago. Fucking her from behind while she kneeled on the vanity and watched in the mirror until she couldn’t hold her eyes open or herself up anymore. I fucked her sweet pussy with my cock and her mouth with my fingers coated in her arousal before she finally went limp, and I had to tuck her into bed for a nap. The petite handprints covering the glass prove how much she enjoyed herself before I wore her out. Now we’re running late, and she’s worried. No time to cook before they arrive after I promised

them a homemade dinner. I wipe my face with one of the hand towels that protected her delicate shins from the freezing marble and breathe in her flowery scent. Loving being covered in her essence. “It’s fine angel. I’ll just tell them I was too busy fucking my princess to make them any food.” The color drains from her face as fast as her arm falls, the blow dryer slamming against the counter. Too much torture. I can’t tease her when she’s so tense. “I’m kidding. I’ll tell them the meat didn’t thaw in time and that we’re ordering takeout.” I cover her shaking hand with mine and flip the switch on the silver handle. Instant relief from the white noise echoing in the cavernous space. “Besides, they’re here to see you. They don’t really care what we eat.” Her other hand squeezes the nozzle, while her gaze drops as low as her spirit. “What if they hate me? You’ve already told your dad I’m not‒” Nope, I refuse to let her say it. Or think it. “I told him what happened to you before I brought you here. But that’s the past. We’re only focusing on the future.” “Okay.” She doesn’t sound okay at all. But she will be. Both of us will. Very soon. A deep nod, I think more for herself than me, accompanies her calming breath, and she grabs one of the small brushes from the neat row in a clear box. I had no idea what all

that shit was when she bought the bottles and tubes, and I still don’t. I tell her every time she doesn’t need to cover her gorgeous face, but I refrain this time. The methodical rhythm seems to soothe her so I keep quiet. Almost mesmerized myself as the tiny bristles sweep across her smooth skin. Making me wonder what it would be like to run them down her back and between her thighs. Curious as to what her reaction would be. My own reaction evident from the growing bulge in my jeans. I’d better jet before I can’t resist any longer and slide off her sky blue satin robe and bend her over the sink again. In the bedroom, I yank on a white tee shirt and gray fleece. Dressing in layers in case Dad wants to go down to the lake and check on the decking we repaired last autumn. “Can you help me please?” Like lightening to my balls when her sweet voice floats behind me. Damn it. This raging hard on is not going to go down if she keeps tempting me. “Anything angel.” She holds up her long hair, exposing her gorgeous neck that begs to be bit as well as her svelte back. Rather than yank the dark red fabric down like I want, I slowly zip her up and place a chaste kiss at the base of spine. Luckily no flinching or fear this time. Just an indulgent laugh. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” I hold out my hand after

she turns around, which she eagerly accepts. “Ready?” “I think so.” The timing is perfect as a triple chime rings from the hallway. My lips brush her temple as I squeeze her fingers. “They’re here. Let’s go let them in.” I can feel her shaking next to me and drop her hand to tuck her next to me instead while we walk. Hoping she’ll absorb some of the comfort I offer her. An internal groan stirs in my chest when we move through the empty living room. The bane of my Mom’s existence that I don’t have a formal space with a bunch of fancy furniture that no one ever uses. None of that’s necessary. Unless Viviana would like some. She can have anything she wants. She curls deeper into my side when I pull the door open. My Dad’s hand on my mother’s elbow helps her inside as she balances a triple-layer chocolate cake housed in a tall plastic dome. Going all out for my girl. Her own face lit up to finally meet Viviana. “Hello! Hello!” Normally I’d have some decent manners and take the container from her grip. But I can’t let loose of my girl just yet. Luckily Dad catches my dilemma and holds the Tupperware so she can hug us. Not even bothering to take off her coat before

she engulfs me. Sincere yet quick because she can’t get to Viviana fast enough. Wiggling in-between us and wedging me out so she can embrace her fully. “It’s so nice to meet you.” “Thank you. It’s my pleasure to meet you too.” Mom holds her way longer than awkward. Although Viviana doesn’t resist or seem to mind. Content nestled against my mother’s chest. “I know you’re really special to my son and make him so happy. You don’t know how grateful I am he found you.” Okay, this is getting uncomfortable. “Come on guys. Grant and Jenna need to get inside too.” My brother and sister-in-law both laugh from the porch. Well aware how my mom is. Finally she releases Viviana. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile any bigger. I take their coats while Dad and Grant head to the kitchen. Beyond ready for some beers. While the girls talk softly in the foyer. “Is this your first time here at the lake?” Viviana nods from Jenna’s question. “Yes, I’ve never been to this part of the country before. It’s absolutely beautiful.” “You should see it in the fall when the leaves change color. It’s breathtaking.” “I was never really allowed to go outside where I lived before so I can’t wait to see the foliage. Roman said every change in season is amazing.” Jenna recovers quickly from her shock and

smiles. “We’ll have fun this summer too. We’ll teach you how to water ski if you want.” “That would be wonderful. Thank you.” Grant’s jerk on my arm pulls me out of my hovering, and I nod from his terse gesture toward the garage. Viviana seems to be holding her own with their polite conversation, so I follow his clipped steps through the laundry room. Not sure what he’s pissed about. I guess I’m going to find out. “What the fuck Roman? That’s Arturo Moretti’s widow?” Damn it. I should have known my Dad would tell him. I should have known as a cop he would recognize her from the missing person reports flooding the wire. His accusing tone pisses me off too. “She’s my fiancée so you better be very careful what you say about her.” “Not her —it’s you dumb ass.” He drives his hand through his hair. His head shaking furiously in frustration. “You killed him and kidnapped her.” Yep, pretty much a true statement. “You know what I do. This shouldn’t come as a big shock.” He gives me his ‘you aren’t this stupid’ look and points back to the house. “Yeah, but it’s the first time you’ve kept the person you’re supposed to be returning to their family.” “Yeah, but’s that just it ‘brother who thinks he

knows everything and doesn’t know jack shit.’ Moretti killed her parents, she doesn’t have any siblings. Or even friends for that matter, since he kept her a virtual prisoner. And the only person left was her motherfucking brother-in-law who has a penchant for whipping young women and then fucking them while they’re drenched in blood. So if you think I was going to leave her with him then you really are out of your god damn fucking mind.” I’m loud and breathless and furious. He has no idea the fucking torment she’s endured, and I’m sure as hell going to make sure she doesn’t suffer any more. His palms fly up while he nods. “Okay, okay. Calm down. I just wanted to understand what was going on.” “Well now you know.” The realization sets in from my nuclear level anger, and he smiles. A smug big brother knowing smile. “You really love her, don’t you?” Fucking great. Now we’re going to get all weepy and talk about our feelings like two pussies. If he tries to hug me, he’s getting his ass kicked. “Yeah, I do.” “Good. I’m happy for you.” “Not as happy as I am.” I let him pat me on the back as we return to the house. Glad we got that settled. Hopefully, things are going just as well with the discussions in here. They are. My pansy ass heart unclenches from

Viviana sitting sexy as fuck at the breakfast bar licking the last bit of icing off her fork. Chatting like old friends with Mom and Jenna. She lights up even more when she catches sight of me. So fucking glorious. I stride to her and wrap my arms around her from behind. Smart enough to remember only to drape her shoulders not massage them. Mom lifts the cover off her cake and giggles with mischief. “We decided to have dessert first. Would you like some?” No more sugar necessary. I’m completely satisfied with the sweetness I already have. “Thanks, but I’ll wait until after pizza.” I kiss the top of my girl’s head. Confirming to her that I was correct from our earlier conversation. They don’t care what we eat. As long as they’re here. With her. I’m second choice now, and don’t mind a bit. “Speaking of…” My father taps on the yellow and red menu laying on the counter. “I went ahead and ordered three of them. Barbeque chicken, veggie lovers, and a supreme. I think that covers what everyone wants.” “Thanks Dad.” Jenna hops up and carries her plate to the dishwasher, pulling the door open and sliding in her dish like she owns the place. Reminding me how much I’ve always liked her. Never formal or fancy.

Just good-hearted and kind. Have to be that way to be a kindergarten teacher I guess. “Viviana told us she’s never watched a movie before but has been invited to go with her new friend Mia. So, we’re going to introduce her to some of our favorites if you want to watch ‘Sound of Music’ with us.” Perfect. Nothing indecent or overwhelming. And I fucking love how they take Viviana’s unusual comments in stride. Neither of them freaking out that a twenty-one-year-old woman hasn’t watched a single movie in her entire life. “How about I build you ladies a fire too?” My offer earns me a kiss from Viviana. “Are you having fun?” She gives me my favorite contented grin. “Yes, thank you.” “You’re welcome angel.” I lean closer and press my lips to her delicate ear so only she can hear. “I love you.” “I love you too.” I guess she feels safe because she doesn’t whisper back, and I fucking love that she doesn’t care that anyone hears her proclaim her feelings for me. “Come on you two.” Jenna tugs her away with a teasing tone and exaggerated eye roll that makes my girl giggle. “Let’s get this movie party started!”

She’s utterly enthralled. Her gaze never leaving the screen while I carried in the wood or Grant handed her a heaping bowl of buttery popcorn or the doorbell rang signifying the food delivery. Only blinking and looking away when Dad hit the pause button, leaving the kids frozen in mid skip. “Time to eat. Everyone wash up.” Of course, he treats us like kids after all this time. And, of course, we fall in line and follow orders, heading toward the sink. We each get handed a plate as our reward for clean hands, and I work on finishing our drinks with the remaining glasses corralled on the wet bar. Shoveling ice out of the bin and filling the cups from the filtering pitcher. The tap water here smells like the lake, which is a pretty gross thought. I should bring that up to Nowak. His stupid head will probably explode from the mission to improve the processing system serving the community. “Go ahead Viviana. Help yourself to all the slices you want. There’s plenty.” No response. I sense her discomfort before I see her face, and spin around. The scooper sliding out of my fingers and clattering down to the granite. Terror lines her face as she glances from Dad to the boxes

stacked in front of her. She presses her plate to the counter with her palms. Almost steadying herself as her body flinches with uncertainty. “I —I’m sorry. I don’t know…excuse me.” She stumbles back. Bumping into the table in her haste. Two of the crystal tumblers clink hard from the force and wobble before tipping over. Ice cubes and water flood across the smooth pine top and flow over the edge. A waterfall twinkling in the late afternoon sun before splashing onto the tile. I’ve never seen anyone so broken run so damn fast. I catch her in the hallway. Three steps from the guest room. Her retreat in fear that I refuse to let her access. “No angel.” She doesn’t struggle. Just accepts me twisting her around and engulfing her in my arms. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.” “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I didn’t know if I was allowed to open them. I just‒” “Shhhh.” I stroke her hair. Over and over in the soothing motion she needs. That we both fucking need. Her pain is mine just as much as hers. Especially when I fucked up. She’s never had pizza before. Never had delivery before. Never had the people she’s desperate to impress watching her navigate something new and weird and terrifying before. Damn it. “It’s no big deal. No big deal at all. I should have shown you the different kinds so you

could choose what you liked. I forgot. I’m sorry.” The fist clenching my fleece releases and her arms slide around my waist. Comforting me as much as I’m comforting her. “You don’t have to apologize.” “You don’t either.” We hold each other until the conversation resumes in the kitchen. Returning to normalcy after the shock from her panic attack subsides. Thankfully, making it easier for her to go back. “You ready to try again? My stomach’s growling.” She looks up. Love and gratitude and optimism swirling on her stunning face. “Mine is too.” “Then let’s eat.” The only hesitation in her step when we cross the threshold into the kitchen. No need to worry. All the mess has been cleaned and they eat at the table as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. Mom pats the seat next to her. “I’ve made you a plate honey. I thought you might like the barbeque chicken but if you don’t, you can try something else.” I guide her to the chair. Well aware she won’t go on her own. Without my unnecessary permission and with her doubt still flickering. “There you go angel.” She accepts my kiss and turns to my mother. Rosy cheeks flushed with appreciation for her kindness. “Thank you Cheryl.”

“You’re welcome. Now eat up.” Viviana returns the smile and picks up a slice. Eager to please as always. Her eyes falling shut with the first bite of sautéed onion hits her tongue. I guess we’ve determined she likes pizza. Satisfied with Viviana’s gratification, she turns to me while I load up my plate. Or I should say turns on me. All wound up and excited. Here we go. “What?” “We were talking earlier that a Fall wedding might be nice. We could do cranberry and orange and gold flowers and maybe a late afternoon ceremony so there’s lots of candles in the reception.” I wink at my girl. “Whatever Viviana wants.” As long as what she wants is me. “Oh be careful saying that son!” My dad laughs and rocks back in his chair, slapping his hand on the table. Cracking himself up with his own teasing. “Or you’ll be writing checks left and right. Might have to take out a second mortgage on this place if you give these girls free reign.” “Nobody writes checks anymore dad.” “We’ll help you two with the finances, don’t worry.” “Christmas ceremonies are beautiful too and you can save big because the church is already decorated.” The conversation swirls around us. Letting

them battle out timing and location and bridesmaid’s dresses, I ignore everything but her. Anxiety lines her face once again with all this talk about money. I drop into the seat next to her and entwine her small fingers with mine. “You can have anything you want but if it’s too much, we’ll just get married out on the dock in our suits and go swimming afterward to celebrate. A water wedding. What do you think?” “I think you’re wonderful but your mother will hate it.” Damn, my girl is smart and exactly right. I chuckle and bring her hand to my mouth and kiss the smooth skin. “Yeah, maybe we can do a little better than that. As long as you’re happy.” “I already am.” “Me too.”

It’s been an amazing week. My girl’s fucking amazing. We’ve cooked. We’ve boxed. We’ve fucked. Sometimes two or three times a day, and I still can’t get enough of her. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of her clinging to me with so much love in her eyes as I take her. Embracing me with more trust that I ever thought possible when I’m inside her. The black metal and glass doors shove open by a couple holding hands with a toddler, and I sit up straighter, watching for her. The kid squeals with delight as they swing him between them while they walk past my Jeep. Then a lone dad with his daughter, deep in conversation as she digs into the popcorn bucket he holds out to her. Followed by a bunch of kids and a pair of smiling grandparents who cautiously step off the curb, yelling for the kids to watch for cars when they start darting into the parking lot. Must be the cartoon that ended. So I slouch back against the seat and resume my vigil.

Probably less than a one percent chance Dante could find her. But I can’t lie. Grant’s comment rattled me. If her photo is floating around, then that bastard could be too. Ready to drag her back home. Back to him. Heat flushes through me despite the frigid air. Many people will perish long, slow, agonizing deaths before I’d ever let that happen. That’s why I’m here. Stalking her like a psycho. Well aware I couldn’t relax at home without her so I might as well give into my obsessive tendencies and ensure she’s safe while she enjoys her girl’s night out. Which almost didn’t happen after I gave her cash for the movie and popcorn and anything else she wants for a perfect evening. Lots of persuading and encouraging to confirm it was okay for her to go and have some fun. All of my convincing so fucking worth the effort with the look on her face when she left. Beyond excited to be normal. A sharp chirp interrupts my reverie. Almost as irritating as the vibration on my thigh. Damn it. Todd’s digits flash on the screen. He knows I’m out. Done. Retired. No more jobs. Not with Viviana here. So I don’t know why the fuck he keeps trying. I tap the green button and shove the cell to my ear. “Doesn’t matter what it is. I’m not doing it.” “It’s Willie. We thought it was an easy job, but something went wrong. I’ve got to get him back out.”

Damn. Damn. Damn. One of our own. We never abandon the guys on the team. We may be killers, but we still have a code. The only honor we adhere to. Fuck! “What time?” “I’ve got a flight booked for you at six to Miami. Mason, Ray, and Dylan are in too. I’ll text you the details.” “I’ll let you know if I have any questions.” With nothing left to say, he clicks off. No need for more discussion. We all know the drill. A little different when it’s a friend. But the process works the same ‒ I leave and hope that I come back. Except that everything’s a lot different now with her. I sure as hell can’t leave her alone. And, I sure as hell have to come back. Another ping breaks the silence, and I scroll through the intel he sends. A deal gone bad in the Keys. Now Willie and the sister of the drug lord he was supposed to rescue are trapped in the burned compound according to the photos and crude map somebody sketched out. Hopefully both of them still alive. Even though I’m resistant, the planning starts unfolding in my mind. Of how and what and when. Until I catch sight of her. Her glorious smile steals my breath and the only thing I can see is her in this crowd of cars and people. Totally gorgeous and unaware I’m watching her while she mimics her friend’s slow pace. Chatting while they walk to

Mia’s Mercedes parked two rows ahead of me. No one can protect her like me. No one I can trust to kill for her. Because my brother has his own code, his own loyalty in direct opposition to mine. His own idea of justice that’s slow and tedious and often fails. While mine is quick and decisive and always succeeds. Like the pussy ass that I am, I swipe my screen and text her. Love you angel. Hope you’re having fun. She pauses by the passenger door, her head tilting in confusion until the realization hits of what that noise is radiating from her little purse. The smile I’d kill to see again bursts through from the recognition, and she flips up the clasp and yanks out the phone I gave her earlier this week. Her first ever cell. With only two apps so far —one a direction connection to me and the other a panic button that wails louder than an air horn to draw attention to her. Or more importantly to any motherfucker who tries to harm what’s mine. Still awkward with inexperience of typing on a tiny screen, her thumbs drift across the buttons until my phone finally chirps. I love you too. I miss you. I will be home soon. The enormous grin never wanes after she slides the device back into her bag and climbs into the sedan. As much as I love watching her, I need to jet so I can be at the house when she arrives. None the

wiser I was guarding her even when we were apart. Besides her tracker ensures if they deviate from the path home, I can easily circle back and find them. Few vehicles populate the roads this late in the evening, and I arrive well before them. Standing in the doorway when they pull up. Feigning a nonchalance I don’t feel with the conflict battling in my gut. Leaving her for even a day will be the hardest damn thing I’ve done in my life. A sincere hug between the girls before Viviana slides out. With one last wave, she turns to the house. Pure joy when her gaze meets mine. And she runs. My princess fucking runs to me, and I willingly take all one hundred and five pounds of her force barreling into me. Lifting her to help her climb me and carry her inside, kicking the door shut behind me. Being a dick and not even waving goodbye to Mia. But I’m not sorry. Not when my fucking universe is in my arms so damn excited to see me. “I did it! I went out with a friend and had a great time!” “You did do it.” I drop us down onto the sofa and brush the wild strands off her glowing face. “I’m proud of you.” “I paid for the ticket and ordered popcorn and watched the movie and didn’t get scared once. It was normal. I was normal.” I hide my disappointment. Keeping the

enthusiasm pulsating in my expression from her innocuous remark. Wanting her to have fun for her. Not to prove anything to me. Small hands cover mine cupping her face. “Thank you for letting me go tonight.” Surprise bolts through me from her voice cracking. Not realizing how much emotion her independence evokes. In me too. Especially when she’s grateful for my permission. Which is more about protection than control but the line between them feels too damn blurry sometimes even to me. Made worse with what I have to reveal to her next. “You’re welcome.” Gratitude sparks with lust in her beautiful cocoa eyes, and she leans in. Brushing soft kisses across my jawline. Wanting to celebrate. No one enjoys victory sex more than me. Even better than make up sex because there’s no tears. Yet guilt flows through as much as desire. I don’t want to fuck her then leave her. “Angel, I‒” “I love you Roman.” The heartfelt whisper against my lips snaps my last bit of resolve, and I have to have her. Twisting her silky hair around my hand, I hold her in place and plunge into her mouth. Deep and hard. Absorbing all I can before I have to go. Offering all I am to her. Her appreciative moan fills our throats, and I groan in return when her delicate fingers glide under my sweatshirt. Grazing over my clenching

muscles aching for her touch and her tongue and her tenderness. Skimming my palms up her thighs straddling me, I reach her pussy and her hips jerk forward from my thumb stroking the silky panties keeping me from my heaven. The drenched fabric slides easily to the side, and I circle her needy clit, eliciting a long and hoarse mewl before I open her soft lips to me and dip in two fingers. Readying her to accept me. “Unbuckle my jeans angel.” Eager hands fly to my waist. Snapping the button and yanking the zipper down. A primal growl rumbles in my chest from her touching me like she owns me. Just like I’ve always wanted her to. Now I’m the one crazed and erratic when she shoves down my boxer briefs and urgent hands wrap around my bulging cock. Stroking harder and harder until I hiss for her to stop before I explode. Palming her narrow hips, I guide her forward and gingerly lower her onto my twitching shaft. Gradual and smooth to keep from rushing as her small body takes me inside her. Pure bliss surging through both of us once she accepts as much of me as she can and begins to ride me. Slow and gentle, succumbing to the pleasure she invokes with her small thrusts meeting mine. Almost fully clothed but we’re still raw. Vulnerable. Exposed. With both of our fears for each other and ourselves evident. Hers a success

and mine a fucking failure. I’ve always loved her when I’ve fucked her, but here and now, my chest actually fucking hurts from the depth of my feelings. Aching with the emotions she incites in me, flaming to an inferno that’s wild and irrational and uncontrolled. I hold her closer, barely moving. Just keeping up with her taking what she needs from me until she murmurs my name with adoration that still amazes me, and I fall over the edge with her. Coming so hard and much I’m fucking paralyzed with the force of my explosion within her. Jesus. Her panting slows, and she snuggles in while I can’t seem to release her. Still pulsing inside her when I make my confession. “I have to leave for a little bit princess. I know I said no more jobs, but this one’s different. A guy on our team needs my help. We can’t leave him to die.” Her small body stiffens, absorbing my words. With her empathetic nature, she’s probably as scared for him as she is for herself. My hands stroke up and down her slender back. Trembling under my palms from the realization my words imply. From the danger I’ll face and the apprehension she’ll endure until I return. The caresses over her small bones fail to soothe either of us. “I don’t want to go, but I have to. I know you think it’s about money but it’s not.” My gut tells me she doesn’t believe me. Not

with her sweet head twisting against my neck. “I have to save my friend.” She lifts up, and I already miss her arms around my shoulders. Intensity I’ve never seen bores into me. “Like you saved me?” “Exactly. Except that I love you.” At least that sentiment I know she believes. Her adoring smile proves her faith in my sincerity. “Am I going to stay here while you’re gone?” Never fucking happening. I wouldn’t survive imagining what could happen to her alone. “No, it would be better for you to ask Mia if you can stay with her and Hayes.” “She’ll say yes.” “I think so too.” I grab my phone off the end table and swipe the screen for her. “You should probably go ahead and call her now. I have to leave in a few hours.” “Already?” I’d rather have my ass kicked than see the misery drowning her expression. “Yeah, angel. I’m sorry. But I’ll be back as soon as I can and I swear to god I won’t ever leave again.” “Okay.” The obligatory grin conflicts with the disbelief in her eyes. She doesn’t believe that either.

Why

are chairs used in waiting rooms so damn uncomfortable? Manufacturers should realize you’ll have your ass parked in one for hours and need better support. I extend my legs and lean back into the cheap, unforgiving plastic trying to relieve some of the pressure on my spine now that the tension gripping my muscles evaporated with the easier than expected rescue. The threats were gone, but with the girl too slight to drag Willie out, they holed up waiting for help. Already cared enough about him to refuse to leave him behind. Both of them beyond grateful when we showed up. Now with them safe and in the hospital, all my focus returns to my girl. I glance at my watch again. Third time in ten minutes. I’m a dumb ass because checking like a fucking moron won’t make the flight take off any sooner. But I’m a pussy ass bitch, and I want to get home. I want to get to her. She’s probably still asleep this early, but I call

her anyway. She can nap while I’m in the air, and then I’ll fuck her until exhaustion and she can sleep as long as she wants. Until my cock wakes her up again. The smile drifts off my face when she doesn’t pick up. Damn it. I told her to keep her phone with her at all times. Even in bed. I dial again, and my heart pounds harder than a beating when she answers. “Hi!” She’s happy. My girl’s fucking happy to talk to me. “God, it’s so good to hear your voice princess.” “You too. I miss you so much. And I have a surprise for you too.” I fucking love the excitement in her voice. “What is it?” “Mia helped me book a flight…I took the papers and some cash and the ID you made me and…” Dread rolls through me from her breathless confession. I grip my phone so tight I can feel the plastic case straining under my fingertips. God no angel. “What did you do?” “I went home. I’m at the bank. I’m going to get the money. Then you don’t have to worry. Or go on any more jobs for me. I can take care of us. I can take care of you like you have for me.” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I close my eyes to grasp some kind of calm to imbue in my voice that feels fucking impossible with my girl hundreds of miles

away from me and only a few from that motherfucker. I don’t fucking know how to pray but I repeat the words I hope are true in my mind. Please fucking let Mia and Hayes be with her. “Are you alone?” “Yes, but Mr. Michaelson is meeting with me in a few minutes. I have to sign some papers and I…” A sharp breath flutters in the speaker. “No. What is he doing here?” Too familiar terror vibrates in her tone before her voice falls to a whisper. “Who Viviana? Who the fuck’s there?” “Mrs. Moretti? Mr. Moretti asked me to call him if you made an appointment with us.” A voice I don’t recognize echoes in the background. “As I understand it now from his explanation, you’ve been missing and the police have been searching for you.” “Viviana give him the phone. Please angel I’m begging you give Mr. Michaelson the phone.” Besides begging, I’m also fucking screaming and the other passengers stare at me. A woman with a baby wrapped in a pink blanket leaves our row of interlocked seats. But I don’t give a damn. About any of them. None of them know my girl’s in danger. None of them know I’m losing my shit because I can’t lose her. I can’t lose the only woman I’ve ever loved. “Please Dante leave me alone. I don’t want to

go with you. I’m in love with Roman.” “I can notify the authorities if you need me to Mr. Moretti.” “No, thank you. That’s not necessary. I’ll be taking her home. We’ll work everything out. Won’t we baby girl? You and I have a lot to work out.” His motherfucking sadistic laugh the last thing I hear before the call ends. Motherfucker.

Harrison picks up on the first ring, and I don’t have the tolerance to wait for him to speak. I lost a fucking hour arguing at the customer service desk to get my flight changed and then spent another two in the air trying not to freak the fuck out. Unable to draw any attention to myself —couldn’t even order a fucking drink—with the flight crew fooled into thinking I was an air marshal with my forged paperwork and legit weapon. “It’s Roan Bartell. Is she there?” “Fuck! Are you kidding—” “I said is she there?” I roar into the phone. Hurting my own damn ears. Deep down I already know the answer. But this motherfucker is going to help me. We both fucked her over before, and that’s sure as hell not happening again.

“Yeah, man. He dragged her in about thirty minutes ago. I stalled him for as long as I could, but he finally told me to fuck off.” “How many guys?” “He has two with him. There’s four of us guarding the house. Most of the guys shifted to Dante after you killed Arturo and the rest left after she disappeared. Nothing really to guard here… until now.” “I’m two minutes out. Let me in. Don’t make me kill you.” “I told you I’d help, and I meant it.” I slam the gas and pray I don’t pass any cops. I don’t have time for anything but getting my girl back. The last rays of the sun shimmer on the tall spokes of the black steel fence lining the property. So damn close but a fucking barrier stands in our way. Literally. Fucking Harrison didn’t open the gate. Motherfucker. Unless Dante’s goons stopped him. Doesn’t take much to pique suspicion when the missing widow returns unexpectedly and against her will with the new king, and shortly afterward one of the former boss’s guards receives an urgent phone call. I swerve to the left, making a huge arc and zoom toward the entrance. Pretty sure my rental insurance won’t cover these damages. At the last second I duck down, fighting to keep my body from submitting to its instinct to brace

hard against the impact. Which only causes more damage, straining overly taut tendons. Glass shards rain down on my already soaked back as the sound of twisting metal screeches in my ringing ears. The base of my spine clips the bottom of the steering wheel when I bounce back, making me see sparks of white light for a few seconds. Fuck. I swipe the sweat beading on my forehead with the back of my hand and shove the driver side door open using it as a shield. Two men race toward me. Both of them with their weapons drawn. I resist the urge to fire, needing to conserve my already limited rounds. Unsure at this point who’s the enemy and who isn’t. The stocky guy must be Dante’s guard since I’ve never seen him before. Denton runs next to him. Never liked that smug bastard anyway so no hardship to end him. I take a knee. Pretending I’m faltering to draw them closer without shooting if they think I’m not worth wasting their efforts. Palming the ground with my free hand, I act as if I’m tumbling forward only to flop on my stomach and then raise my arm catching each of them with a slug to the gut. The big guy collapses quickly but Denton’s a tough motherfucker and keeps moving forward. He’s obviously impacted by his gaping wound, even as he battles through the pain, and gets off a forced yet shaky shot, whizzing past my head too damn close. Jamming my elbow into the textured

concrete hurts like a bitch yet worth the agony to give me the leverage to pop him in the forehead. Even he can’t win against a bullet to the brain and finally drops. I plug the other guy sprawled on his back in the head too just to be sure and jog toward the garage. Harrison’s hustling in my direction, and I aim at his heart. Not sure if he’s friend or foe at this point. “I got Zach.” He points over his shoulder to the wiry dude face down. The entire back of his head missing. I shrug in response. Not sure if I should give a damn or not since I don’t know who the fuck Zach is. “It’s Dante’s other guy.” Thank fuck. The battle much easier now with him eliminated. “Thanks man.” “Come on. She’s downstairs.” I want to ask if she’s okay. If she looked okay. If she was hurt. But I can’t bring myself to speak. Just run silently on the steps. Footsteps pound behind us so hard even the carpet can’t muffle them. I glance back. Relieved to see Nobbie and Yuan. Good guys. Well, as good as guys can be in this life. We cross the seam where new carpet’s been laid, and I pause at an entryway that wasn’t here before. The faint smell of paint and saw dust lingers in the air. Motherfucker. The room he scared Viviana with.

I ease the door open with my toe, making sure the hinges don’t squeak and hold up my hand to the guys behind me. No one moves without my call. My princess fucking dangles from the ceiling. Wrists bound together. A blindfold drenched with her tears as she sobs quietly. Fucking god damn motherfucker. I suck in a deep breath through my nose. No time for emotion. Not yet anyway. I go into the zone. Focus only on the rescue. Get in. Get out. Get gone. With my girl. Fucker stands at an angle from us, fucking around with tools on a table before he straightens. Holding the wrapped handle of a black leather strap in his hand. An ominous smile lighting up his fucking ugly face as he flicks the whip a few times. Sickening smack against the concrete as Viviana flinches. Well aware what that revolting sound means. Hell the fuck no. Seemingly satisfied with his weapon of choice he nods, chuckling to himself and he turns around. I streak toward her, racing on the fury engulfing me and the whip slashes across my chest. Ripping through my shirt and slicing open the skin underneath. Burning like a motherfucker. And I god damn fucking revel in the agony. The pain making me higher than a fucking kite to know it’s me, not her, taking the abuse, and he’s going to fucking get

his. Huge gray eyes meet mine. Never expecting me to show up and ruin his good time. “Your turn.” My fist connects with his jaw. Hard enough to knock him down but not out. That would be too good for him. Much too generous. He’s going to suffer. For her and all the other women he tortured. I nod to Harrison. “Tie him up.” Once the guard head bobs in agreement, I race to Viviana. “I’m here princess.” She cries out from my voice, my hands on her hips lifting her to my shoulder to relieve the strain on her arms while Nobbie cuts her down. “I’ve got you angel. You’re going to be okay.” I talk to her to keep her calm. “It’s all over now.” To keep myself calm. From fucking exploding that motherfucker would try to hurt someone so fragile and defenseless. “He’s never going to touch you again.” Finally, she’s free and crumples down. Muscles too weak to hold herself up. Which is fine because I’ve got her. I’ve fucking got her. Curling her into my ravaged chest, I kiss her sweet face. Over and over while she clings to me. “I—I wanted to sh—show you I could do it. I c —could come here and g—get the money for you–“ Damn the fucking money. But this is more than

about our finances, and we both know it. She wanted to be brave and strong and normal. Just too damn sweet and naïve to comprehend what lengths a bastard like Dante would go to for his own sick pleasure. “I know you did. I’m so proud of you.” She droops in relief. My approval all she needs to hear. Eager to receive to survive this. I carry her upstairs and outside to my demolished car, followed by Harrison who grabbed one of her old dresses from the closet. Fucking hate putting the clothes from her old life on her but she can’t be any more exposed or vulnerable than she already is. Exhausted and overwhelmed, she doesn’t seem to notice the outfit that motherfucker bought for her being tugged over her head and down her arms. Or my blood smeared on her breasts, stomach, and face. As long as it’s mine and not hers, I’m sane. I squat down and take her trembling hands in mine, meeting her weary gaze. “I have to take care of something. I’m only going to be gone for a few minutes but I’m going to lock you in before I go. Do not leave with anyone no matter who it is.” “Okay.” My sweet compliant angel. I’ve never been more grateful for her submission than in this moment. I kiss her damp forehead and ease the door shut as well as the driver’s side once I kick the body out of the way. Tapping the fob twice so the horn sounds in recognition of the lock engaging.

Sweat rolls down my torso as I race back to the dungeon. To her fucking prison. Yuan stands guard over that bastard who remains sprawled on the concrete hog tied and sprinkled with my blood. Moaning and shaking his head. Which will feel like fucking paradise once I’m finished with him. I nod toward the guard. “Help me get him up.” Dante’s in pretty good shape for a man his age. Not a slug like his brother. Although he’s not used to taking a hit. Too many bodyguards to protect him from any actual violence. Until now. We tie him in the same position he strung up my princess. Just because I’m a petty bastard, I shove him a few times. Letting him spin in agony. Sway around and around letting his muscles pull and strain. He cries out from the burning of the tendons ripping. Good. But not enough. Not nearly enough. I’ve heard the stories. Seen a few photos. Experienced my own fucking devastation from Viviana at his mercy a few minutes ago. Three quick punches to the gut, and he howls like a baby. Two jabs to the nose, and blood gushes down into his open mouth. Another duet to his kidneys, and he pukes. Luckily none of his bile splashes on me. His body convulses from shock, and he finally begs. Stop. Mercy. Please. And I don’t do a damn thing except smirk. “Is that what you did for all those girls when they were crying? Is that what you

did for Viviana when she begged you to leave her alone? Nope, I didn’t think so.” I grab the whip lying on the textured stone and toss the handle from hand to hand. Getting a feel for the weight and flexibility. I’ve never wielded a strap this long before, and I’m beyond fucking thrilled this lucky bastard gets to be the recipient of my inexperienced efforts. Smacking the floor a few times myself, I provide him a reminder of the terror he instilled in my girl. The impending torture. Two. Three. Four. And then I strike. Flicking my wrist quick and hard, the leather slices across his thighs. Not too bad for a first effort if I do say so myself. “What do you think Dante? Everything you imagined?” Tears roll down his swollen cheeks when I strike his belly. His chest. His back. Working my way around his body until there’s no more skin visible to split. I step closer without touching his sorry ass. “You were right about one thing asshole. Your greatest pain is my greatest pleasure.” I’m done. Finished playing executioner. Through with punishing this motherfucker. My girl needs me. Tossing the strip away, I bypass the guts and blood and vomit smeared into a thick gel and head to the stairs. He can die scared and alone just like he left all of his victims. Except one. Another shock that Harrison and Nobbie stand guard by my vehicle. At least a pleasant surprise

this time after all the hell that’s found me today. I extend my hand to each of them. “Thanks.” Harrison glances toward the demolished gate. “I wasn’t sure if any of Dante’s guys would make an appearance. I don’t give a damn about this place anymore, but I owed it to her to keep her safe.” “Yeah, we all do.” Now it’s her turn to stun me when she steps out of the backseat. Gripping the top of the door for stability but still stands of her own volition. “Are you okay?” I cup her tear-streaked face and nod. “I’m perfect now that I’m with you.” The charm works its usual magic, luring a weak yet sincere smile onto her lips. “With Arturo and Dante dead, this is all yours now angel. You have all the power and money you’ll ever need. Whatever you want to do, you can.” Her frail body sways from the enormity of my proclamation, and I wrap my arm around her waist. Supporting her physically and emotionally. Several minutes pass as she stares at the mansion. Only she really knows entirely what she endured at that bastard’s hands. Memories seeming to flit across her face as her gaze moves from the huge windows to the wrought iron balconies to the black front door. “Burn it to the ground.” Fuck. Me. Hard. Sweet, glorious revenge flames

in her eyes that I never would have expected but fucking love almost as much as I love her. “As you wish, my princess.” I can’t help but laugh at the astonishment flooding the guys’ faces. “Okay boys, you heard the boss lady, burn this motherfucker down.” A few claps and cheers before Harrison and Nobbie race to the garage. I don’t think she’ll leave until there are ashes. Unless I make her. I step in front of her. Breaking the hypnotic gaze from the jail she no longer has to fear. She smiles an authentic smile. Really seeing me for the first time since I found her hanging from that motherfucker. Her cheek instantly settles into my palm when I stroke her satin skin. “You did good, angel.” “Really?” “Yeah, fucking amazing. But now it’s time for me to take you home.” Heavy lids sink shut, and she snuggles into me. All the fight gone. “Okay, thank you.” I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to hear her simple agreement.

“All right, here

are the last of the documents for you. Sign here please…and here…and right here.” At last. She receives what her grandfather intended. Plus, all of the Moretti family money too as Arturo’s widow. Including the insurance payout from the electrical fire that just so happened to engulf the mansion when the other Moretti heir was inside. Funny thing about that faulty wiring. Never enough to erase his abuse or the scars he left behind. Yet, fucking hilarious irony just the same. The rest of the crime lords can battle for control of the city. Hell this half of the country for all I care. Once she’s finished with the bank, we’ll go home never to return. Our future already perfect with or without the inheritance. The man slides the papers back to his side of the desk. Straightening the ends of the sheets on the elegant cherry wood and tucking the pile into the folder. “Very good. The deposits will be made into your accounts this afternoon and accessible tomorrow. Are there any other questions I can answer for you?” “No, I think we’re all settled. Thank you Mr.

Carlson.” I fucking love how authoritative and poised she sounds. No wobbling in her voice or her handshake with the attorney when we all rise. Which I’ve seen more and more of the past few months. Fewer panic attacks and hesitation, with her confidence continuing to grow. In me and herself. While she’s still my sweet angel to the core, the haunted look and nervous demeanor have finally disappeared. “You’re welcome…” He glances at me and the diamond ring on her finger. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what name you prefer to go by now.” With one dainty hand entwined with mine and the other curled over our baby, loved and protected, safe in her belly, she smiles at him. “Mrs. Roan. Please call me Viviana Roan.”

A week later “I need you.” My cock hardens instantly from her enticing voice behind me. Finally assertive enough to speak up and say what she wants. I’m a fucking lucky bastard that what she wants is me. “You’ve got it princess.” I set down the hammer and spin around. And almost fucking come in my jeans from her standing in the doorway wearing only her bra and panties,

holding her dress in her hand. Confusion lining her forehead as she brushes across the chocolate dotting the yellow cotton. “I spilled batter and can’t remember which bottle I’m supposed to spray on stains.” So fucking gorgeous. All belly and breasts and beauty. Wide eyes meet mine as I stalk to her. My palms flat on my baby and my lips on her shoulder. Chuckling against her velvet skin. “Did your stomach get in the way again?” “It’s not funny. I…” Her gorgeous head falls back giving me even better access to her slender neck. “I just…” A moan steals her voice. Doesn’t matter. Words aren’t necessary anymore. Silky fabric tickles down my legs before her clothes land at my feet and her fingertips clutch my biceps as I sheath her against me. Her bump warm and hard against my equally hard dick. “I need you too.” “But the brownies will burn.” “Fuck the brownies.” I scoop her up, guiding her legs around my waist, and carry her back to my work bench. Just the right height for her pussy to align with my hungry cock. “You’ve got something much sweeter I want to taste.” I shove my tools out of the way and lay her back. Growling as she lifts her narrow hips for me to glide off her little white thong. I kiss my way back up her slender calves and thighs. Side to side

giving each leg equal treatment until I reach her glistening folds and lap her like ice cream while she squeals. Fingers scraping my scalp holding me exactly where she likes me, which just so happens to be my favorite place to be as well. “Never hurts to have dessert first.” THE END

The Surviving Absolution series: Wine & Whiskey Wine & Whiskey: Everything for You Truth About Tequila Truth About Tequila: Believe in Me Stand Alone Books: Straight, No Chaser On the Rocks Under the Influence

Nikki writes contemporary romantic thrillers and admits to a weakness for alpha males and bad boys, especially ones who can’t live without the strong women they love. She spends more time in her characters’ lives than her own. But, when she’s in the real world, her passions include reading, wine appreciating, running, and spending time with her husband and daughter. Connect with Nikki: Reader’s Group: Nikki’s Naughty Tequilas Website: www.nikkibelaire.com Facebook: www.facebook.com/NikkiBelaire Facebook Author Page: www.facebook.com/NikkiBelaireAuthor

Want to read more by Nikki? Check out the first chapter of On the Rocks, a dark mafia romance… I lift my hips, welcoming him as he crawls up my torso, coating his stomach with my arousal, after his lavish attention between my legs. Savoring his slick body sheathing mine again, I coil around him, breathing in his clean scent. Saturated now with the heady musk of our love making. Fine beads of moisture dapple his forehead. Glistening on his olive skin, glowing from the burgeoning golden light streaming through voile sheers that drape the vast windows. Drenched from exertion. Shaking from the struggle of his selfimposed restraint. So tender as he moves inside of me. Always cautious. Forever gentle. His huge hand cups the side of my face as he planks over me. The titanium band circling his finger diffuses coolness against my flushed cheek. Resting on his bulging forearm, colorful ink curving across the corded muscles, he thrusts slowly yet decisively. With his warm lips brushing my ear, goose bumps sprinkle across my shoulders from his murmurs of love and perfection and beauty. Of his gratitude for finding me. Unaware I’m the one who’s beyond blessed to have found him. “I missed you, sunshine.”

Shivers engulf me from his husky voice. Raspy with desire. All of his earlier grogginess evaporated once his fingers swept over my nakedness and found the wetness only he coaxes from my body. Yet, I manage a small laugh despite my panting. Wrapping my legs tighter around his flexing hips to pull him deeper. Which I know isn’t possible with our size difference. I’m already stretched full, overflowing with him. Raw and powerful. But I want him. I need him. All of him. “We made love three times yesterday.” He raises his head, making me miss the magic of his tongue on my throat. Overwhelming me with the intensity of his hooded gaze. “I just can’t get enough of you.” I run my fingers through his damp hair and tug the coarse, black strands. Loving how he nestles into my palm caressing down his jaw. Stroking the angular line, a physical reflection of his relentless determination. With me and everything else. “You’ll be bored with me in a month.” The lust flaming in his eyes roars into possession, and he actually growls at me. Gruff and rumbling in his massive chest. Displeased with my suggestion. Of my implication that eventually his desire for me will fade. “Never.” My scheming works, driving him to finally abandon his unnecessary self-control. Pounding

into me mercilessly now. Just the way I love. A hiss of pain coils through the pleasure from his fingertips digging into my thigh, angling me better so he can grind harder into my throbbing core. Hitting the sensitive spot deep inside me so perfectly the sensation’s almost unbearable. Quick as lightening I’m there and jerk against him. Involuntary spasms rock me as I clench tighter around him. Chasing the ecstasy fluttering in my belly, breasts, and hips. Unable to speak, my mouth latches onto his neck. Sucking in the taut skin. Powerless to say the words to tell him I’m gone. Overwhelmed and convulsing from the sheer pleasure surging through me. But, of course, he already knows. Well aware of what he does to me. Of his effect on me. A few last pumps, and I’m bursting with his release. So much and so hard, the hot liquid streams down my legs, pooling between our coupled bodies almost instantly. His solid frame rigid as he groans my name into my hair tangled around his fist. After a few seconds, his beautiful green eyes blink open, the amber flecks even more prominent, darkened with concern, and he peppers me with soft kisses. Almost as if he’s apologizing. Fearful he’s hurt me with his furor. Searching my face for absolution he doesn’t have to seek. When I smile against his lips, all the uncertainty vanishes from his expression, and his shoulders

soften as he settles into the crook of my neck. Then, he holds me. So reverent and loving. Unlike the stories I hear from my girlfriends, of their husbands rolling off of them, swearing and sighing, boasting how good it was. But not Drake. He makes me feel like the queen to his king. Worshiped and adored. Pampering me physically, emotionally, financially. Almost frightening how devoted he is. Because, as much as I want to, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to show him enough that I love him too. Probably even more than he loves me. So lacking and inadequate, I hug him tight. A futile attempt to somehow convey the depth of my feelings. “I don’t know what I’ve done to have you spoil me so much.” “My Dad always told me ‘when you find a good girl, marry her.’ I knew you were perfect the moment I saw you. So that’s exactly what I did.” The cocky smirk that steals my breath, causing me to squirm underneath him, illuminates his handsome face. Getting me drunk all over again from his sexy confidence. Just like that night. Wasted on gin and lust and contentment from the realization everything I desperately needed was right in front of me. I trail my fingernails across the defined muscles of his broad back, before scratching down the nape of his neck. “I remember. You were talking

marriage. I was thinking restraining order…” Now he chuckles from my teasing. Rewarding me with a calloused hand sliding from my waist to my breast. Thick fingers rolling my nipple. Both of us mesmerized by the peak hardening under his thumb brushing over and over the pink nub. Electricity sears me from his fingertips to straight between my thighs. My hips writhing of their own accord. Suddenly aching to feel him inside me once again. “Nothing will ever keep me from being with you.” From any other man, his veracity might sound creepy. Almost threatening. But with Drake, his words wrap around me. A thick cocoon of warm comfort. Safe and reassuring. Soothing me with the knowledge I’ll never be alone. That he creates my family now. Because I know. Just like he does. I can’t live without him either. “Besides, I didn’t hear you calling for help when my tongue was buried deep in that gorgeous pussy, lapping up your sweet juices.” Warmth burns my face, even hotter than the fire igniting inside me from him rolling us over, hovering my hips over his ready length. A reminder of my first exposure to his immense strength, pushing me up the textured wall, where my best friend Trish’s ivory gown had hung only hours

before. A symbol of her new beginning, never realizing as I carefully wove the silk ribbons crisscrossing her back, that the best part of my life would be starting that day too. “Well, a bet is a bet.” *** An intense blush spreads across her already rosy cheeks. Remembering, like I am, the first time I tasted her. Touching her where no other man had ever touched her before. Or ever will. My dick jerks from the thought. Like a radar pointing up to her heaven floating above my straining body. Starved without the feel of her surrounding me, I glide her down onto my hungry cock. Eager as I am to own her again after ten long minutes without her. Unable to accept all of me, she leans forward. Her slender fingers and magnificent tits splay across my chest. Cloaking us in the sweeping curtain of her untamed hair. A Cheshire grin playing on her plump lips. “Although, I still have my suspicions you lost on purpose…” God, I fucking love this side of her. When the spunk breaks through her shyness. Which is one of the fucking sexiest things about her. Even more so when I’m the one to coax the playfulness out of

her. I pretend to mull over her accusation while I help her ride me. The silky skin of her narrow hips tingles under my palms. Long, slow strokes that elicit a breathless gasp from her pink lips, driving a hard shudder through her arching torso. “Well, between partying with my brother and his groomsmen, or being alone with you, I will always choose you.” Love burns in her eyes from my confirmation, and she tips even closer, kissing me with a fervor I feel all the way to my tightening balls. Well aware what she needs to hear to trust in me. To believe this whirlwind I’ve sucked her into is real. To understand how fucking deadly serious I am about loving her. But fuck me, I knew she was the one, and I had to make her mine. She thought I was drunk, but I’d never been more fucking stone cold sober. So wired from her presence, the adrenaline racing through my veins making my body almost ache to be with her. Especially my ravenous dick. Flying so fucking high from discovering this selfless angel, radiating from her friend’s happiness. Knowing anyone who could be that generous, that elated for some else would bring me the same ecstasy. In my life and in my bed. Keeping her in my suite that night, I fucked her for hours with only my fingers and my tongue. Until the next day I flew her to Vegas, married her, and

made love to her for the first time as my wife. Just like she deserves. I rise up to engulf her glorious body. Missing the way she curls around me like she won’t ever let me go. Instantly molding her fragile softness to my hardness. Her grip as tight as her delicate arms can manage. She almost swallows my tongue, kissing me so frantically. While I glide her sweet pussy up and down every inch of my pulsing length with her heavy tits smashed against my chest. As much as I hate it, I break away from her luscious mouth and brush her tiny ear lobe with my lips. Cupping my hand around the graceful curve of her head, I hold her immobile in my merciless grasp. Needing to remind her of my intentions for her. For us. “Your place will always be by my side. I rule this empire for you and the babies you’re going to give me.” Only a slight nod with my grip on her so tight. But she hears me. Her breathing erratic as I make her come with my words and my dick. Her rock hard nipples grinding into my pecs. Almost making me lose control when I’m barely hanging on. “This is where you belong. With me. In this house. As my wife and the mother of my children. My every thought and action will be spent keeping you safe and making you happy.” So fucking quiet, she doesn’t say a word as she explodes around me. Flooding my balls and thighs

with her silent release. That’s why I almost always fuck her face to face. Not only because she’s fucking beautiful. God damn is she beautiful. Fucking luminous from the light shining within her innocent depths. Forever smiling her stunning smile. Unwavering and absolute. Like it’s actually possible I can really create such joy in her. But her silence means I have to see her expression. To ensure I’m only pleasuring her. Because I would put a bullet in my own fucking head if I ever hurt her. If I ever did anything to steal the smile from her sweet lips. My pulse races, pounding in my ears harder than her heart thundering against my skin. With her pussy milking me, I can’t hold back any longer, knowing her confidence remains unbroken. That she trusts in my promises. In me. I palm her cute ass, impaling her down onto my cock, holding her in place while I come. Violent and unrestrained. Buried as deep in her as I can. Needing to get her pregnant as soon as possible. Although she must be uncomfortable, she doesn’t complain. Allowing me to command her body to use however I want. Which I love. And loathe. She has all the makings of the best fucking submissive I’ve ever seen. So pliant and docile. But, I’ve had that subservience in the past. Plenty of women more than willing to be handcuffed

spread eagle to my bed or on their knees desperate to submit to me. Eager to obey my orders no matter how filthy or depraved they may be. With Trinity, I want more than bedroom games. More than blind obedience for sexual fantasies. What I desire transcends domination. Or mastery. I require an unconditional possession. Of her body. Of her mind. Of her pure angelic soul. Faith, that I’ve never earned - ever cared enough to earn - from any other woman, glows in her serene gaze. Locked with mine as she straddles me, cuddling on my lap despite my softening cock. A sated smile greeting me when I bend down to kiss her. “I love you.” Fuck me for being a pussy, but my heart soars from her genuine sentiment. No hesitation or duplicity. Just honest. Simple. Heartfelt. I cup her raised cheeks, resting my forehead on hers. “I’m fucking obsessed with you.” She giggles. Sweet, easy, and untroubled. Thinks I’m kidding, and doesn’t argue with my fanatical proclamation. Only snuggles in closer, sparking an inferno in me again with her lips pressing against my shoulder. I caress down her back, reveling in her shiver from my fingertips gliding over the velvet skin, and entwine her dainty hand with mine. Kissing the jeweled bands scratching across my sweaty fingers.

No need for her to be branded or collared. No proof required to reflect my devotion or commitment to her. It just is. Just exists. Complete and never-ending. I worship her. I live for her. I will continue to kill for her. I stroke over the huge rock again. Although I do fucking get off on drenching her in diamonds. Highlighting her own natural beauty. Brilliant and luminescent. Yet, she seems impervious to the luxury. To the money and cars and gifts I lavish upon her. Seeming to really only crave me. Desiring my attention and affection. Which I give her absolute and wholeheartedly. With just a single, solitary demand from her in return. That she always remembers she’s mine. “Infinity.” Gentle fingers trace the fresh ink on my chest as she tucks her head into my neck. My last tattoo until she gives me our first child. “Infinity.” To read more, click here.