by Shanna Bell
His jaw clenched when he was reminded of her uncle. The sick fucker he had chased until the gates of Hell. Or, in his case, a little town in France.
“You never have to worry about him again.”
“I know. Gio gave me closure, a peace of mind. I couldn’t ask him for more. Also, honestly, I don’t need more. I teach art class two days a week, and with the money I have left from my trust fund, that’s enough to get by. There are so many people who have much less. I get reminded of that every time I volunteer at the shelter. I’ve met people, single moms, who could barely feed their baby. I was blessed.”
“My mother was a single mom.” The words slipped out. He could see the questions in her eyes. Thankfully, the waiter chose that time to arrive with their food.
His plate revealed a piece of beef that might feed a toddler. He was about to order another plate—in fact, they should keep the micro beef coming—when he was met with another unpleasant surprise.
Some guy—slick hair, three-thousand-dollar suit—was standing next to their table, drooling over Mary.
“Mary?”
“Oh, hi, Josh.” She looked at Hector. “Um, this is—”
“Dr. Joshua McGraw, Mary’s ex-boyfriend.”
Hector accepted the extended hand, doing his best not to crush it. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t give a strong hold. He couldn’t hide a smirk when the good doctor winced.
“Hector Diaz. The fiancé.”
Josh blinked, and his eyes went to Mary’s ring finger. He then pointed at a table across the room. “Why don’t you two join me?“
“Oh, no really, we—” Mary started.
“Or, I can join you,” Josh said, his hand already on a chair at a nearby table.
Mary gave Hector an apologetic look. As usual, she was too damn polite. Luckily, he didn’t have that problem.
“How about you fucking don’t?”
This had Mr. Shiny Hair taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”
“You’ll be doing a lot more than begging when I shove my shoe up your ass. They’re new and shiny, just like your hair. I still need to break them in. And if you don’t get the fuck away from this table, I’ll break them in on your face.”
The good doctor turned a shady red, then a pasty pale. But he did leave—practically running—heeding Hector’s warning.
He turned his gaze back to Mary, about to apologize for embarrassing her when he found her chuckling.
“God, his face.”
Totally not what he’d expected. “I thought you’d be embarrassed, with your peers being here and all that crap.”
She rolled her eyes. “You bought shiny shoes for our date?”
“Tommie picked them.” The Smurf was a pain in the ass but did have his uses.
“Oh, I bet he loved that. Tell me you didn’t give him free range of your credit card.”
He snorted. “I wish I could tell you that. It was like giving candy to a toddler. The kid does love to spend my money.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Wish I could say the same. You should’ve seen the look on Achilles’ face when a courier stopped by this afternoon with more boxes from Neimann Marcus. I’m the proud owner now of not one but three cashmere sweaters, and a dozen silk shirts.”
She laughed, almost in tears now. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Honestly, I like you more G.I. Joe style.”
“Glad to hear that, ’cause this was a one-time deal only. I can hardly move in this dress jacket. Also, this place isn’t really me. What do you say we get out of this fancy-schmancy place? I like Italian more anyway.”
“You do?”
“I’m marrying you, aren’t I?” He dropped a wad of cash on the table, not wanting to wait for his credit card to be processed.
They ended up having dinner at a little Italian place in Tenderloin, a joint where Gio used to work as a busboy.
Mary chuckled when he told her that as he dropped her off later that night.
“Gio working as a busboy?”
“We all have a past.”
“Aren’t you coming in?” She looked up as he stood frozen in the doorway.
“Can’t. If I go in, I won’t leave until I’ve had you naked.” And fucked your very delicious hole.
“Oh.” She nibbled her bottom lip, looking disappointed.
Just two more nights, he told himself. He could get through two more nights.
After that, all bets were off.
CHAPTER 11
MARY
It was the night before her wedding—which would be a small happening at Casa Detta—and Mary found herself at her impromptu bachelorette party.
Jazzy insisted on throwing her one. Mary was fine with that, as long as it was at Club Flux. Luckily, her cousin hadn’t asked why she insisted on this particular place. Perhaps she believed Mary chose it because it was popular and booming, especially on a Friday night.
They were all there—Jazzy, Tommie, and her cousin, Carmen. Jazzy glanced worried looks at her sister, but Carmen’s eyes seemed to stare into oblivion. Mary wished she could help her, but what did you tell a woman who had lost her unborn baby at the hands of her own husband? It had only been six months. She needed time to heal.
Sadly, her own sister, Gina, hadn’t been able to make it. According to her message, she was whisked away by some Brit to Dubai. Gina had ended her message, that she’d be there at Mary’s second, ’real” wedding. That remark had hurt. Yes, the reason for her tying the knot was Zoe, but she didn’t see this as a temporary thing. Neither did Hector. Maybe it was selfish to hone in on his good nature, it could even be called abusing his protective streak toward women and children, but she wasn’t sorry that she’d captured him. Hector didn’t know this yet, but no one would love him as much as she did.
“Any particular reason why you chose this place?” Tommie asked.
Jazzy went over to the bar to get them drinks, which probably meant they would have shots all night long.
“I’m looking for someone in here,” Mary admitted.
Tommie blinked. “You have all that hot, grouchy manliness at the tips of your fingers, and are still looking for a man?”
“Of course not. I’m here to speak to Hector’s brother. According to Gio, he’s here tonight.”
“Didn’t know Hector had a brother.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Gio said they aren’t exactly on speaking terms.”
“Uh-oh.” Tommie shook his head. “I can see that nosy sparkle in your eyes. You know this is going to piss him off, right?”
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked innocently.
“You’re a fixer, Mary. Thing is, some people don’t want to be fixed.”
So, okay, he might be a tiny, teensy bit right. But Hector was giving her so much. The chance at her own family. She couldn’t do any less for him.
“It’s the only blood relative he has left,” she explained over the dark, piano music. “If I don’t invite his brother, Hector won’t have any family on his own wedding. Whatever happened between them, I’m sure they can figure it out.”
Tommie glanced over at the table in the VIP section she was watching. There were three men sitting in a dark booth, against a deep red wall. Her target was the one in the middle, in the black suit. He looked to be in his mid-thirties. He was flanked by two men with sun-streaked dirty-blond hair.
“He seems familiar somehow,” Tommie mused.
“Wish me luck.”
“Um, I’m not sure if you should—”
She walked over to the table she’d been eying for the past hour. As she neared it, she noticed that the estranged brothers didn’t look anything alike, except for their eyes, which were the oddest shade of green. That was where any similarity ended, though. Unlike Hector, who’s scowl showed a pallet of emotion ranging from being annoyed, angry, or anything else, his brother’s face was blank.
He barely gave her a glance when she stopped in front of his table. The men at both his s
ides appeared to be identical twins.
One of them had a busty blonde on his lap. “Which one of us do you find more attractive? Me or my brother, Damon?”
His brother just shook his head in exasperation.
Mary literally couldn’t see any difference between the two men. Other than the way they were dressed, that is. Damon was the more casual one, with red cloth high-top sneakers, whereas the one with the blonde on his lap looked like a model on the cover of GQ.
“You, Angel,“ the blonde said with a pout. “I choose you.”
“Wrong answer, love.” He nudged her off his lap. “Off you go. Guess it’s my burden for being the prettier one.” The girl scoffed and walked away, her eyes flashing fire.
In the blink of an eye, Angel stood next to her, openly sizing her up.
She ignored him and focused on Hector’s brother.
“Hi, Kristoff, I’m Mary Rossi, and I would like to talk to you about your brother.” When he didn’t react, she added, “Your brother, Hector.” Maybe she should have had that clarified from the beginning. Just because Hector didn’t have any other siblings, didn’t mean his brother didn’t either.
“And who are you to my brother? My brother, Hector.”
She didn’t appreciate his mocking tone, but kept that to herself. She shouldn’t forget that these brothers hadn’t spoken to each other for years. There was some bad blood between them. Adding in her own anger would only add fuel to the feud.
“I’m his fiancée, and I—”
“Angel,” Kristoff snapped, adding something in Russian.
Holding up his hands, Angel stepped back.
Kristoff looked past her shoulder at their table. Mary followed his gaze. Her friends were staring at her. Jazzy, especially, had the weirdest look on her face.
“You are here with Gio’s woman,” Kristoff spoke.
“You know my cousin’s husband well?”
“We have history.”
“Aha. Anyway, um, our wedding is tomorrow, and it would mean a lot if you would attend it.”
For some reason, Kristoff’s demeanor softened. Maybe it was the fact that he seemed to believe who she was, or maybe because she’d invited him to the wedding.
See? My magic is already working.
Hector is going to kick your ass.
No, he’s not.
“Does my brother know you’re here?”
“Nope. But then again, I don’t need his permission to talk to family, do I?”
The ice in his eyes thawed a little more. “Family?” He made a gesture for her to sit and she scooted in next to him.
“Yes, family. I know you two have been estranged for some time. And since weddings are a great opportunity to get closure, perhaps even mend fences, I hoped—”
“And funerals,” he interrupted her.
“What?”
“You forgot to mention funerals as a way to find closure. It’s at funerals that people show their real faces and feelings. Either that they loved someone or hated him.”
“That’s quite a morbid way of thinking.”
“I’m a morbid man.”
“Clearly,” she muttered. “But since a wedding is the more preferable of the two occasions, I’ve chosen to invite you to Hector’s wedding instead of his funeral, which hopefully will be on a date far, far away. So, can I tell Hector you’ll be attending tomorrow? It will be held at Gio’s place. Since you already know him, it shouldn’t be too hard to find. It will be a small ceremony, with just close friends and family.”
“I wouldn’t want to miss it for the world. But please, let’s keep my attendance to ourselves. I want it to be a surprise.”
“I can live with that. As long as you show up. If you don’t, I will hunt you down,” she joked.
Apparently the man could smile. “I wouldn’t want that.”
“Good. That’s settled then.”
She didn’t have the money to buy Hector something fancy. Also, she wouldn’t know what to get him. The man didn’t seem to live large, though apparently, he could afford to buy whatever he wanted. The only thing of value he seemed attached to was his Harley. She was hoping that giving him his brother back would be perceived as more valuable than anything she could buy him.
Surely, he was going to love her surprise.
CHAPTER 12
HECTOR
Hector hated surprises. He stared at Tommie standing in the doorway, holding a big bag. It had an Italian name on it. He had a feeling what was in it and dread filled his stomach.
“What’s that?”
Tommie moved past him and put the garment bag on the bed. Jazzy had readied a guest room for him.
“Your tux, of course.”
“No rented tux is going to fit me.” He pointed at the black jeans and dress jacket on the bed. “I was just going to wear that. You tried, but oh well, too bad.”
Tommie’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I can see you’re really heartbroken. I got your measurements from Jess and placed a last-minute order. Paid five times the price to have it done within a day, but it will fit.”
Hector sighed. Up until a minute ago, he didn’t own dress pants. He had hoped to get away with wearing jeans and a dress jacket, instead of a monkey suit.
“You just live to torture me, don’t you?”
“You can thank me later.” Tommie winked and eyed his hair. “Are you sure you don’t want a trim? I could easily—”
“No one is touching my hair, Smurf.”
“Fine, be that way. See you later.”
Muttering and cursing, Hector hoisted himself in the tuxedo. He’d had to admit that the size was perfect, and the trim looked flawless.
Then, the big moment arrived. Standing in front of the minister in Gio’s living room, waiting for Mary to appear. A strange tightness filled his chest, followed by a twist in his guts. Nerves. He was fucking nervous. The little virgin had him twisted in all sorts of knots, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it.
And then she stood before him, dressed in white. He’d never imagined himself getting married. Never believed he deserved, let alone earned, a woman like Mary. He didn’t know what it was about her that made him want to be a better man. What a contradiction that was; wanting to be a better man by possibly dooming her to a life with him. Who was to tell that he would be a better man than the sperm donor, as his mother used to call his father.
As he looked into Mary’s eyes and repeated after the minister, he swore that he would be a better man than his father. He would honor her, protect her, give her all he had, and never have her want for a thing. And silently he swore to protect little Zoe, and any other kids they may have in the future, as well. All he had to do was keep the crazy and rage inside. Bottle it up where it belonged. Maybe, just maybe, then she could care about him the way she cared about Zoe, her cousins, and even her worthless sister. He wasn’t sure why that was important, but it was.
They finished giving their vows, and silently, he added another vow; to never let her go. She was off the market, for good.
He gave her a scorching kiss underneath a shower of applause and catcalls. Yeah, his men were assholes like that. Then the congratulations started.
When it was Walker’s turn, he was greeted with a huge grin. “We knew you’d eventually see the light, boss.”
“You won the bet, didn’t you?”
“I sure did.”
Smug motherfucker.
Mary patted him on the chest. “Let’s dance.”
Dance. Another thing he’d never seen himself do. He was too big and never felt comfortable doing it, let alone while wearing a monkey suit. Thankfully, the DJ put on a slow track. Mary nestled perfectly against his body.
He cleared his throat. “You look beautiful.”
She gave him a sweet smile. “Thank you. You don’t look too shabby yourself.”
He was in awe of her. Not once had she asked about his scars. Everyone did, sooner or later.
“Not as pretty as you. Obviously.�
� He’d meant for that to come out as a joke, but she must have heard something in his voice.
She cupped his cheek with the three puckered scars. “Are you referring to these?”
“You never asked how I got them.” He didn’t give a fuck about the scars. Didn’t care what others thought about them either. Thousands of soldiers got hurt during combat, or lost their lives. A few scars were nothing compared to that. Yet somehow, her opinion was important.
Mary placed her hand on his heart. “I didn’t ask because I don’t think of it as something that defines you. To me, it’s just a sign of bravery, of survival. Honestly, I envy it.”
Not what he was expecting to hear. “Envy it?”
She shrugged while he swayed them slowly from the left to the right. “Most people are so focused on what’s on the outside. As if one’s looks tells anything about them at all. I think it’s quite the opposite; it’s the most misleading thing there is. I don’t like it when people underestimate me. One look at me, and they think I don’t have a brain.”
The first time he saw her, he’d been transfixed by her beauty, boobs, butt, and golden hair too. He had objectified her like any other man. Of course, by now, he knew that there was more to her than just a pretty face.
“I’ll be sure not to make that mistake,” he said smoothly.
Staring deep into her beautiful eyes, he had a feeling everything was going to be all right. That he’d somehow deserved her and wasn’t going to fuck this up.
Then he saw him; an unwelcome face in the small crowd.
Fucking Kristoff Romanov. The one person, apart from the sperm donor, he hadn’t wanted to see today, or any other day.
He turned to Gio, who was dancing next to him with Jazzy in his arms, ready to scold him.
His friend shook his head. “I didn’t invite him.”
“Yeah, then who else would—”
She wouldn’t.
His gaze snapped back at his wife.
“I invited him,” she said softly. “Gio had nothing to do with it. Other than providing me your brother’s whereabouts when I asked him if you had any relatives.”
