by Sam Mariano
“I did,” she acknowledges. “I was a little nervous, and like I said, I wasn’t unhappy working for Mateo. I got lonely sometimes, sure, but I liked living with Cherie and Maria—they’re closer than my mom and I ever were, and they always included me. Maria loves board games, and she’s such a generally grumpy person, but you should see her beat someone at a board game. She’s such a sore winner,” she says, grinning. “She just gloats, and she doesn’t even say anything, but she has this smug little look on her face.”
I crack a smile. “That sounds nice.”
“On Sundays we have our own family dinners in the servants’ quarters. And for Christmas she makes these amazing cookies. And Mateo was never stingy, so we always got to order presents for one another and decorate the house. I never got much for presents as a kid. My mom would buy these really cheap, generic things that would break before winter break was even over. Not that it’s about the gifts, but…” She looks up at me and shrugs. “It was home. If you wanted to be a part of it, I would’ve been fine with that, I would’ve offered you an invitation, but I didn’t want to leave it. Especially for just… nothing. I had no idea why I was leaving, I was so confused, and Mateo just expected me to understand, he didn’t explain it. And I know you hate that I liked Mateo, but it wasn’t really sexual, I just… I like the way he runs his family. I like the way he ran our home. He was like my boss, and yeah, I was fine with that. And yes, sure, I had a crush on him for a time, but who doesn’t? I didn’t have a lot of other options. You never expressed an interest in me, so I didn’t even put you in the same category once you stopped tutoring me.”
“You could’ve liked Alec, or Vince, or Joey.”
“Vince is too young,” she says, shaking her head. “Alec’s boring. Joey…” She rocks her head back and forth. “Joey was okay. I never really got to talk to him. I think Mateo warned him off.”
That surprises me. “Really? Why would he do that?”
Giving me a pointed look, she says, “Well, now I assume it’s because he knew you liked me. Joey’s a charmer. Not Mateo level, but…”
Yeah, I wouldn’t have enjoyed watching Joey flirt with Elise, that’s for damn sure.
“That Irish guy, now if he would’ve come around…”
My jaw falls open, and she gives me a devious little grin.
“I’m gonna kill that asshole one of these days,” I swear, shaking my head.
Elise laughs, taking a left as we come to a crosswalk. “I’m just teasing you.”
I feel a prickling on the back of my neck. The road I followed Elise down is quieter than the one we were just walking, but the man who’s been walking behind us turned, too. I assume it’s a man, anyway. I haven’t looked back, but judging by the footfall, it’s not a woman.
Probably nothing, but I eye up the next turn anyway. If he follows us again, there might be a problem.
Elise is still talking, but I’m no longer paying attention. I reclaim her hand, clasping it a little tighter. This would be no problem if she wasn’t with me, but the thought of something happening to her terrifies me. I care too much. There’s a certain level of emotional distance when I’m doing my job—there’s never terror. I’m never afraid. Lack of fear is why I’m good at it.
But right now, as I pick up the pace and he does, too, my heartbeat pounds in my throat. I don’t want Elise to see me kill someone, and I don’t want her to get hurt if this is an actual threat.
And then Elise steps out of her goddamn shoe.
“Oh,” she says on a laugh, stopping in the middle of the road, backing up a step to slide it back on.
And there it is. I can turn to look at the guy now, but when I do, he’s pointing a gun in my face.
Chapter Ten
The man’s large, rough hand closes around Elise’s tiny bicep. She gasps, looking back to see who’s touching her, and I go for my gun.
“Oh, my god,” she says, her voice shaking as he pulls her back against him, putting the gun to her head, then swinging it to point at me. This little fuck. He doesn’t even know where he wants to point the gun.
I relax a little. My fingers brush the butt of my gun, but I don’t pull it out. This guy’s gonna panic if I do.
Not one of Antonio’s guys. They’d know where they want to point the gun.
“Please don’t hurt me,” Elise says, her voice somehow smaller. I frown at her, but she’s not looking at me, she has those big blue eyes trained on her assailant. Does she really think I’d let him hurt her? Granted, she’s never seen me in action beyond launching Rick through a wall of shelves, but she knows what I do, what I’m capable of.
“Relax,” I say, keeping my tone calm. “I’m gonna grab my wallet.”
“No,” he says, the gun wobbling. This poor fucker’s shaking.
“You don’t want my wallet?”
“Yeah, no, I do. But nothing—nothing funny. Put your hands up, where I can see them. Both of them,” he says more adamantly, putting the shaky gun to Elise’s temple.
“Okay,” I say, immediately letting go of the gun and raising my hands. His damn nervousness is the real threat here. I spook this asshole, he might accidentally hurt Elise. “I can’t give you my wallet if my hands are up. Let’s just bring it down a notch. Everything’s fine. We’re all cool here. Let’s just… relax.”
“Why are you so fucking calm?” he demands, clearly not calm. Maybe a little high? Man, he should’ve picked a better mark.
“You can take whatever you want, man. It’s just stuff,” I tell him. “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt. If you let me get my wallet, I can give it to you, and this can all be over.”
Elise turns her head to look back at him again, and he slowly lets her ease away from his body. He maintains his hold on her arm, and I contemplate what I want to do next. I really wanna shoot him. Like, really, really bad. And I could—but we’re technically in public, and Elise will see. Do I want to commit a murder right in front of her? Not especially.
Once she turns to face him, the guy finally gets a good look at her, and then I kind of do want to kill him, even if she has to watch. His gaze darts around her body, at the cleavage spilling out of her low-cut dress, the thigh she is inexplicably exposing instead of hiding under his perusal. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she’s trying to hold his attention.
Oh.
I slowly lower my right hand, bringing it toward my gun. My heart pounds as I keep my gaze trained on him, knowing if he catches me, he’ll get scared and fire his weapon.
Elise bites down on that damn plump lower lip of hers, and inexplicably takes a small step closer to the man. “Please don’t hurt us. I’ll do anything.” Her voice all sweet and scared and innocent. Goddamn.
Dude’s Adam’s apple bobs, but before he can respond to her offer, Elise grabs his arm, yanks him toward the ground, plants her elbow in his spine, shoves him back, and kicks him right in the face.
My jaw drops as the guy does, and then she skitters forward, kicking the gun away from him and into the street.
“You picked the wrong fucking people to rob, asshole,” she states, no trace of sweetness left in her tone.
The man shoves up off the ground and I pull my gun, but he’s not pursuing—he runs, awkwardly and as quickly as he can away from us.
Elise spins back to face me, grinning. “Wow! Can you believe that just happened?”
“What. The. Fuck?” I can really only stare at her, and she’s so weirdly excited.
“That guy—” She snorts, shaking her head. “Man, what a schmuck. Can you imagine, someone trying to rob you?”
“Me?” My eyebrows rise, my eyes widening. “I didn’t do anything. You just beat that guy’s ass.”
“Oh.” She shrugs, like it was nothing. “Not really. I mean, he ran, and I’m not exactly dressed for it, but…”
“How did you know how to do that?”
“Ju taught me.”
I blink at her, shaking my head. “Mateo’s nanny?”<
br />
She nods. “After all that happened with that Rick guy a long time ago, I realized I wanted to be able to defend myself if it ever came up again. You might not always be there, and it’s not always the best guys who come around, you know. When I told Maria what happened, she sent me to Ju.”
I knew Mateo’s nanny had background in self-defense—that was a requirement for him, in the event anything ever happened, he wanted one last line of defense for Isabella. But I didn’t know she was teaching the other ladies self-defense.
I mean, on reflection, that’s a really good idea, particularly if you live with Mateo, but suddenly Elise doesn’t look so fragile to me anymore. Suddenly I realize, if Elise didn’t want my attentions, she could simply knock my ass out.
And damn, that’s sexy.
I move toward her without realizing my own intention, fisting a hand in her long blonde hair and pulling her against my body. A little breath of surprise whooshes out of her, but she braces her hands on my shoulders and doesn’t pull back as I lean in and crush my lips against hers. Her body molds to mine and she kisses me back with matched fierceness, as if she’s been waiting for this, too. I rotate our positions, walking her back against the building until she’s planted against it. Her peek-a-boo thigh comes up and hooks around my hip, luring me closer, and arousal surges through me, almost incapacitating in its force.
She pulls back and looks up at me, the moonlight on her beautiful face, her blue eyes sparkling with warmth… desire?
“Let’s go home,” I murmur, hearing the hoarseness in my own voice.
Elise nods, biting down on that bottom lip as she drops her leg.
She grabs my hand again, but then on second thought she releases it, darting out into the road and grabbing the gun our assailant was too afraid to retrieve. She jogs up ahead to the trash can on the sidewalk and drops it in.
Finally she comes back to reclaim my hand, explaining, “Don’t want another bad guy to find that.”
---
I barely get the door locked.
For five long years, I have awaited this moment. Elise watches me with interest, backing up toward the bedroom. She might have it in her to be aggressive, but she doesn’t want to—she wants me to do it.
So I do.
I chase her down the hall and she grins, throwing herself inside the bedroom, letting me back her up against the wall. As I move in, the distance between us vanishing, her playfulness gives way to something a little heavier. Her fingers go to the lapels of my jacket, tugging it off me. I shake it off the rest of the way, tossing it to the side, and she starts on the buttons of my white dress shirt. Once it’s open, I’m hit by a minor case of nerves. I don’t like people seeing my scars, and her skin is the exact opposite of mine—smooth, creamy perfection.
Before she can finish peeling it off, I shrug it back on. Elise pauses, frowning.
“You don’t wanna…?”
I don’t know if I’m more afraid to see disgust or compassion on her face. I don’t want her feeling bad for me.
“I’m fine,” I say, pausing. “I just—why don’t we wait a minute to take that off?”
She understands why, but she doesn’t drop it. Her gaze drops to my chest and her hands brush my sides as she touches me all over, her left hand brushing taut, normal skin, the skin of a man she should be touching, and the right touching the mottled flesh I don’t want her to see, even in the dark.
“I already saw this the night you came home drunk, and if it bothered me, I wouldn’t deserve to be here with you anyway.”
“I don’t want your… sympathy.”
“I wasn’t offering any,” she says, almost lightly. “It’s just, while I’m not at all opposed to the sight of you in an open dress shirt, this is my first time, and I’d like for us both to be naked.”
Even though I assumed that’s where this was heading, hearing her address the reality that we’re approaching sex knocks some of the resistance out of me. Apparently counting on that, she takes advantage and peels the shirt off, her gaze never leaving mine.
There’s a certain measure of calculation in Elise that I didn’t expect, but I kind of like it. This girl knows how to get what she wants. I may not always understand why she wants it, but the more time I spend with her, the more facets I see. The more I realize… maybe she doesn’t need as much fixing as I thought.
Erasing all thoughts of literally anything else, Elise bends her head and her soft lips brush my chest, just below my collar bone. She leaves a trail of fire behind her—every single time her lips brush my skin, I think I’m going to combust. Then she gets to my nipple and her tongue darts out, circling it, then suckling.
I need support. I need to move this to the bed.
Reaching down to grab her hand, I tug her back that way. I’m already so hard it hurts, and she’s still fully dressed.
Well, as fully dressed as she can be with that evil thigh split.
This is her first time. I need to slow down.
My eyes are glued to her, watching as she reaches around and unties her dress. I expected to have to unzip this one, but apparently it wraps around, because a moment later, she drops it in a pool at her feet. I swallow, my eyes wandering over her body. She’s not wearing a bra, only a lacy scrap of nude underwear, and as my gaze hits her bare body, her perfect, smooth, beautiful skin, feelings I’ve shoved down for literally years come rising to the surface. I don’t just want to touch her, I want to consume her.
I move toward her, skimming my hands down her bare shoulders, watching her face for any sign she’s not feeling it as my hands move in, catching the weight of her full, beautiful breasts in my palms.
She’s too perfect. It’s too corny to say, so I keep it in, but she is. Countless nights, more than I’d ever admit to, I’ve lain awake thinking about this moment, what she would look like, how she would respond to my touch, how she would taste. I lean in now, finally free to find out.
Her arms find their way around my neck again and she leans in to meet me, a little smile on her lips as she presses her forehead against mine.
“Like what you see?” she teases.
I press my erection against her thigh. “What do you think?”
She nods. “So do I.”
She turns around, dislodging my hands and climbs across the bed. I wince a little, seeing her ass up in the air like that, nothing but a lacy thong covering it.
Jesus, I wish I’d have known we were having sex tonight. I needed to prepare for this.
I climb on the bed with her. Prepared or not, we’re doing this. I guess if it doesn’t last too long this time, that’s not the worst thing in the world; she’s a virgin, so it’s not going to be the greatest for her.
Looking at her like this, waiting for me in bed, mostly naked… well, I need to do something about that mostly part. I hook my fingers around the flimsy fabric still covering her and tug it down. She lifts her hips to help me and a moment later, I fling them off the bed behind us.
Now she gets a little shy, positioning her hands to cover herself. I shake my head, tugging them away.
“No hiding,” I tell her.
“Then I think you should…” She flicks her finger toward the lower part of my body, still dressed in slacks. “It’s only fair,” she adds.
In a way it’s more uncomfortable undressing in front of her than anyone before her. I’ve never cared what anyone else thought, not really. I care a lot about what she thinks.
I shove the rest of my clothes off, kicking them onto the floor, but I don’t look at her. She doesn’t wait; she sits back on her heels and reaches a hand out, her fingertips moving slowly down my hip, her long hair falling over her shoulder as she inspects the damage. Perhaps because I told her I didn’t want any, her face betrays no sympathy as she explores me, but when she finishes, she says simply, “I hope he dies.”
Smiling slightly, I reply, “Yeah, me too.”
Chapter Eleven
Elise smiles at me, then without fur
ther mention of my scars, she leans in to give me a gentle kiss. Her hand comes up to touch my face and she sends shivers all down my spine at the brief contact. I love this, just kissing her, her touching me. I want her on top of me, so I grab her by the hips and position her so she’s straddling me. Judging by her little smile, she approves of this position.
“Should we… Do you have a condom?” she asks.
“Oh, not yet,” I tell her, leaning in to catch the rosy tip of her left breast in my mouth. Her breath catches, her hands fisting in my hair—or they would’ve, if I wouldn’t have cut it all off. Never again.
I push my hand through the long locks of her hair, cupping my hand behind her neck and drawing her close. I release her breast, capturing her mouth again, arousal growing as she opens for me, not quite sure what to do, but waiting for me to take charge. I do, dominating, my tongue sweeping in to tangle with hers. My free hand drops, splaying across her breast, brushing my thumb across her nipple. She moans into my mouth and I nearly lose my shit. As much as I regret pulling back when she’s getting into it, I want to make sure she experiences pleasure before we get to the sex, and if she moans like that again, I’m not going to be able to wait.
“We’re gonna do this more next time,” I promise.
“What are we gonna do now?” she asks eagerly, following my lead and crawling off my lap. It’s funny, the way she sits there looking at me, like I’m her tutor again, about to give her an assignment instead of an orgasm.
I smile, shaking my head at her, then I catch her legs and flip her onto her back. “Right now I’m going to kiss you.”
“Oh, good,” she says, her arms heading for my neck again.
“Nope,” I say, dropping to place a little kiss on her flat tummy, then a little lower. Then a little lower.
Her face flushes as she realizes where I meant.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she tells me.
