“Smart, hooking her convict son up with money,” Clemente mutters.
The wine almost sloshes over my glass as I dash up and get in his face. “You take that back. Maggie isn’t like that. She’s a sweet woman who was there for me when I needed someone and has been there ever since without asking for one damn thing in return. So, yes, if she asks me to be a friend to her son, who has been betrayed by those who he trusted, then yes, I sure as hell will be there for him.”
Clemente doesn’t seem impressed by my outburst at all. He’s as calm as the sea before a storm.
“Those who betrayed him are the ones who want him dead, Gracy. He’s dangerous and wrapped in things I don’t want you anywhere near. If I knew you were in trouble I would have come. You should have reached out to me or to my father. I would have opened up my home for you too.” There is no warmth in his voice, a hint of anger, maybe. Though, I don’t feel as if it’s aimed at me, more at the circumstances he’s only now became aware of.
“I couldn’t think, Clemente. I wasn’t in my right mind the day of the funeral. Then my father arranged some guy for me to fuck to get my mind off my mother’s death and I lost it. I ran away and found myself walking down the beach until I was so tired I had to sit down. I was lucky Maggie found me when she was walking Finn.”
“That piece of scum isn’t your father,” Clemente hisses through his teeth. “Spencer is a disgrace and shouldn’t have been anywhere near you or your mother.”
My shoulders sag and I take a seat between the pillows, Clemente sits down next to me. The both of us are wrapped in silence as we both sip our wine.
“The day my father heard the news about the death of your mother is when he had his first heart attack,” Clemente states and my head swings toward him but he’s staring at the horizon. “As you might know your mother and my father went to the same school growing up. They were in love but our world works differently. My father wanted to escape his responsibilities and run away with your mother. My grandfather found out about their plan and instantly moved back to Italy.”
“I know about the sudden move of your father, and,” I gasp and do a little headcount. “You’re telling me my mother was pregnant with me when your father left the US?”
“He didn’t know she was pregnant at the time. If he knew, he would have found a way to get back. But in our world, we have arranged marriages to forge bonds to expand the familia. He knew about the woman he needed to marry; it was arranged when he was fourteen years old. It messed up his future with your mother because when his arranged wife became of age, they would be wed. It’s also the reason why I was born. The presentation of the bloody sheets. The whole take the virgin bride, wedding night. I don’t think I would have been born otherwise. My father had enough respect for the familia but his responsibilities toward his wife and the familia ended that night. My grandfather died six years later, that’s the day our father became the head of the family and moved back with me to the US. Like I said, our world functions differently and marriages aren’t forged out of love, but my father only ever loved one woman.”
I grab the bottle of wine and give both our glasses a refill. “What happened to your mom? You mentioned your dad taking you back to the US, did she stay in Italy?”
He gives me a sad smile. “She died giving birth to me.”
I lean against him and place my head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“Did you know your mother was forced to marry the asshole who pretended to be your father? Seems our families didn’t differ a lot when it came to arranged marriages.”
My head whips up and I stare at him. All of this sounds insane and yet at the same time it all falls into place. The fights they had regularly, the things they used to throw at each other. And when I look into Clemente’s eyes and recognize his familiar eyes I also see when I stare in the mirror...I know he speaks the truth. Not to mention the way my mother used to react when she left to visit her friend.
“Did...does...my father. Shit. I should probably be calling him Spencer now. Did...did Spencer know I’m not his biological daughter? Was he aware about your father and my mother, about me?” I ask.
“From what my father told me, Spencer should have known since she was pregnant when my dad left. When my father couldn’t stay away from your mother, he arranged to accidentally run into her and they stayed in close contact until she died.”
“I remember that, you and I were there too. It was one of the rare times I saw my mother smile her radiant smile. I still can’t believe she killed herself. I mean, she could have gotten a divorce, right? She wanted to, she already moved out of the house to create some distance because of all the fighting. If your father and my mother...sorry, I’m thinking in fairytales.”
“When Spencer found out she was seeing my father behind his back he tried to forbid her from seeing him, even if they weren’t living together anymore. There’s a lot more at stake here than just people in love, ripped apart and both married, only to find each other after all those years, Gracy. There are companies involved. A status to uphold and a whole lot of money thrown into the mix and that’s where things get dangerous.”
“Again with the danger,” I mutter and lean back to take another sip of my wine.
Clemente leans back too and the both of us watch the sunset as darkness wraps around us. There’s so much more to say and talk about but there’s a lot already running through my head I need to process. Besides, the wine is taking the edge off and I don’t think this is a good time to be sober, though it’s not a good time to get drunk either.
The mere thought of knowing who my biological father is, my mother’s past, and my father...Spencer’s reaction. I need more wine to let this settle and process. Come morning I will be able to wrap my head around it. Before he heads home Clemente and I decide to have dinner later this week.
I should head home too but I’ve had three glasses of wine and I shouldn’t be driving. So, I decide to stay here instead. I shoot Eddie a text to tell him I’ll drop Finn off tomorrow morning. I open another bottle of wine and decide to have one more drink before going below deck to fix something to eat.
CHAPTER FIVE
— EDDIE —
I’m doubting my own sanity as I get on my bike and ride over to the marina. I should be heading over to meet with Yates and a few other brothers he’s reached out to. Yates and I have set things in motion to take back what’s rightfully mine but we need to let others know what’s about to go down. It’s tricky, though. Yates isn’t completely sure about a few brothers on which side they are.
Apparently, Rush has promised them loads of cash without any effort. Of course, it’s dirty business he’s put his sticky fingers in and that’s not something we want the club connected with. But like I said, the asshole does have some bikers wanting to lean this way so we have to be careful who we approach before I walk into the clubhouse. Even more because Rush is the type of leader who forces his way and uses force against those who stand up to him.
That’s also why I’m questioning my sanity. I was set to keep my distance from Gracy but seeing her hugging Clemente made utter rage flow through my veins. It doesn’t make sense and maybe it’s the whole “if I can’t have her no one can.” But right now, as I park my bike and head to her boat, I leave it all behind me. My mother told me all about her and how they met and how fucked-up her father is. A father who turned out not to be her biological father.
Man, how can Clemente just throw that little piece of information at her as if it’s nothing? But, to be honest, I’m glad she’s not connected to this asshole, Spencer, by blood because I’ve dealt with him before, he’s a fucking snake. But all of this is something that slams into a person, and when I received her text, I had to go to her to make sure she’s alright.
It’s pitch dark on her boat and I’m not liking this one damn bit. A woman all alone late at night, even if I know this marina must have some form of security, and she has Finn with her, she shouldn’t be here
all alone. Not with the information Clemente shared with her on top of everything.
I get on board and I hear Finn coming my way and the murmur of a faint, “No, no, Finn, stay here.”
I scoop Finn up and walk to the front where Gracy is trying to get up. There’s an empty bottle of wine and a new bottle right next to it. I put Finn down just in time to catch Gracy who stumbles over her own feet. The both of us curse for different reasons. Gracy about the pillows trying to tackle her and me for her drinking too much on a damn boat.
I bend down and take her into my arms and head below deck. I give a short whistle and Finn grabs his stuffed shark and follows me down. I have to say, this is one damn fine boat. There’s a wide space with a tiny kitchen, a large couch split in two so it covers half the space left and right along with two tables in front of it. A TV is plastered against one of the cabinets across the kitchen and in the back is a door where I imagine the bedroom is.
Gracy slaps my shoulder. “Put me down, I was going to fix something to eat.”
“You shouldn’t have had all that wine,” I grumble.
“You’re not my father,” she shoots back and snorts, “I already had that position doubled today. Cleared up. Switched. Clarified. Whatever. I’m hungry.”
Her feet hit the floor and she heads for the kitchen. When she passes Finn she mutters, “Go, Finn! At least one of us gets to have happy hump time.” She pulls open the refrigerator and bends over. “I could use some serious hump time. I need it more than food.” She shoots up and glances at me. Dead serious she asks, “Any chance you want to rethink the whole no sex thing? Because I’d be willing to do the whole down and dirty thing and move on as if nothing happened.”
She sidesteps as if the boat is going through rocky weather. “And I’m not just saying it because I’m drunk, because I’m not.”
Right. I’m pretty sure I could get tipsy from her breath alone if I’d kiss the fuck out of her right now. I’m glad I went against my better judgement and headed over to her. And I can’t believe Clemente left her alone to get drunk on a damn boat.
I stalk toward her and grab her by the shoulders to guide her to the side. I bend down to have a look into the refrigerator myself and glance around before checking some of the cabinets to see what I can whip up for us to eat.
“We’re not going to have sex, Gracelynn. And it has nothing to do with you being sober, tipsy, or drunk. I need for you to be safe. And that means I can’t get involved with you, no matter how badly I want you...it’s not safe.”
“We’d be safe if you use a condom, doofus,” she says and rolls her eyes.
Yes. Definitely sober as fuck.
“I don’t have a condom on me, darlin’.” I can’t help but chuckle and I can’t think of another answer as I gather some stuff to make spaghetti.
“Aw, shucks.” She sighs overdramatically and plunks down on the couch next to the kitchen. “I’m not on the pill or anything because I haven’t had sex in years. Stupid guys. Did you ever notice the different types of guys and how you can tell with one glance if someone is trying to hide their personality? It’s in the eyes. People who are rotten on the inside always hide things. It’s a gleam. I knew my father...who in fact turned out not to be my father at all...he has the gleam. I should have known. I wish my mother would have left him sooner and had her happily ever after with my biological father. Life really sucks. Like major sucking. Like more than the best blow job I ever gave. Shit. Forget that last part. I give good blow jobs. I just meant the way I hollow my cheeks til the max, the whole ultimate sucking experience.”
The pan I was holding clatters to the floor. “Could you stop fucking talking about blow jobs for one damn minute? Fuck!”
Just what I need, a visual in my head about her giving the best damn blow job while I haven’t had sex in years. I could come in my goddamn pants with the mere thought of Gracy on her knees in front of me, my dick in her mouth while her supernova eyes glance up at me, silently begging me to fuck her mouth until I fire my cum down her throat.
“You’re thinking about me giving you one, aren’t you?” She giggles. She fucking giggles!
I should shove my dick into her mouth as payback, but instead I bend down to grab the pan and put it underneath the tap to rinse it, keeping my hands busy and trying to clear my head along with it.
“Want me to help?” Gracy quips from right beside me.
“Motherfucker,” I mutter and try to calm my raging heart.
“What are we making?”
“Definitely not babies,” my mind offers and I clear my throat to answer her. “Spaghetti.”
“Yum. I’ll help.” Suddenly she doesn’t seem drunk at all when she starts to roam around the kitchen.
We work side by side in the little space until she bends down right in front of me to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator. The visual before me where I long to grab her ass is one I itch to make reality. Need I mention she’s wearing a damn bikini and has some flimsy scarf wrapped around her waist?
It would be so easy to rip off the scarf, shove those bikini bottoms to the side and slide my dick home. I’m still staring when she shoves a water bottle into my hands.
“Here, drink. Looks like you need to cool down.” The mischief in her eyes is tempting me to drag her close and kiss her.
Come to think of it, she doesn’t look as drunk as she seemed when I got here. “How much wine did you have?”
She shrugs. “Probably a little more than half a bottle but it took me hours.”
“You faked being drunk off your ass?” I state.
“Yup.” She gives me devilish smile. “Nice way to test you and to give myself an advantage in case you did have bad intentions. You know, underestimate a drunk woman and all.”
“Your thought process is plausible,” I grumble.
A sexy giggle rings through the air and it makes our gaze connect. In this moment there’s static noise filling my ears and I only have eyes for her. The way her chest rises and falls, the longing in her supernova gaze and the way her lips part.
Fuck it.
I reach for her and wrap my fingers around the nape of her neck to pull her forward as I bend down to meet in the middle as our lips crash together in a rough kiss. A slight gasp escapes her but it quickly turns into a moan. Her tiny hands slide over my chest as she grabs fistfuls of fabric to keep me close.
Her taste is addictive as my tongue slides in and starts a slow dance with hers. Electrical. As if my body is charging for what’s to come. My dick hardens against her and desperately needs to be brought out of the confinement of my jeans.
My other hand slides to her ass to pull her closer and to knead it. Soft. Firm. So fucking perfect. I press her against the counter but I feel like it’s not enough. Using both hands I lift her up on the counter so she can wrap her legs around me. I pull slightly back to cup her breast and boldly slide her bikini top to the side to reveal her tight nipple that’s begging for my mouth.
Leaning in I let my tongue trail a path around her areola before I graze her nipple with my teeth. Her fingers roam through my hair as she pulls me closer and moans the way I want her to when I ultimately slide my dick between the lips of her pussy. Dammit, I need to be inside her. Now.
Hissing draws our attention and the both of us jump into action when the spaghetti starts to boil over. I would like nothing more than to turn off the stove and ignore the whole damn world so I can bury myself inside Gracy, but the moment is shattered and she seems to give all of her attention to finishing the spaghetti.
“You can sit down, I’ll finish up,” she says and I have my confirmation.
Too fast, too damn soon, but it felt so right to have her in my arms. And maybe it’s for the best because we don’t have a condom and she’s not on the pill. Still. It’s a damn shame we have to wait, but she’s absolutely worth it.
I clear my throat and ask, “Where do you keep the plates?”
She gives me a shy smile and points t
he spoon she’s holding in the direction of a cabinet. I grab two plates and place everything on the table. Gracy carries the spaghetti over to the table and starts to divide some onto the two plates.
I’m having a hard time keeping a straight face when she actually starts to eat as if she’s in a restaurant, curling the spaghetti around a fork with a little help from a spoon, but all too soon she takes one string of spaghetti and closes her eyes to suck hard and lets it bounce left and right around her mouth before it disappears inside.
Instead of eating, all I can do is stare at her. Even if she’s high-class and the shit she just had thrown on her lap—not to mention me kissing the fuck out of her only mere moments ago—she takes this tiny piece of time to enjoy her food carelessly. Not one hint of awkwardness but instead the woman in front of me is enjoying her food as if she’s alone in the room.
Maybe it’s because I’ve always been around other types of women because they don’t hold a candle to the woman who’s sitting across from me. And it’s not just about the food either. The way she gives it to me straight, her beauty, her delightful character, it’s the whole package. Besides, my body never reacted the way it did when my hands were on this damn fine woman.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Gracy asks as she grabs a napkin and wipes her mouth clean.
Or at least she tries to, but the red sauce made her mouth slightly orange. I grab my fork and scoop some pasta into my mouth but finish it the way she’s been doing and it earns me a blast of giggles that makes my dick twitch.
“How did it go with your friend Yates? Everything okay?” she asks and picks up her fork and spoon.
“It’s more complicated than I thought. It’s also the reason I reached out to Clemente. Well, I was under the assumption I reached out to the person in charge, Clemente’s uncle. Who we’d normally approach, and since I have been gone for a while I had no clue Clemente took over.”
Unruly Defender Page 5
