by Shanna Bell
“Please stand back,” she said, pointing her finger at him. “You are scaring these women.”
Gio looked past her shoulder, seeing the group of said women sitting in a waiting room area, watching with concern in their eyes. Their gaze went from Hector to a man huddled against the wall, holding his arm and groaning in pain.
“Why? Because of my scars?” Hector snarled.
Mary looked confused. “What? I don’t see what a few paltry scars have to do with anything. They are scared because you broke that man’s arm and, had I not stopped you, would have kicked him within an inch of his life. In case you haven’t noticed: this is a women’s shelter. A lot of these women have fled a life filled with violence. Please back off and let the police handle the rest.”
Hector folded his arms in front of his chest, the heat instantly leaving his eyes. He stepped back when a police cruiser stopped in front of the building.
Gio was less quickly placated. He searched the room for his wife. Just then, Jazzy turned the corner. She was accompanied by a teenager she was discussing the best game console with.
He had to remind himself that she looked fine. Perfectly fine, even. It was difficult to admit to himself that she had given him a scare. When he heard that there had been a man with a knife anywhere near her vicinity, he had panicked. Although he knew Hector wouldn’t let anything happen to her, he still had to see her with his own eyes.
“What are you doing here?” He hadn’t meant for his words to come out that harsh, but he couldn’t stop himself.
Unlike the women behind Mary, his own woman didn’t look afraid at all. Her scowl told him she didn’t appreciate his tone.
“I came to fix the problem with the internet router.”
Gio tried to keep his temper in check. He really did. But didn’t she understand the danger she had been in? “There was a man in here with a knife.”
She glanced at the prick who was being hauled away by cops.
“Yes, well. It’s a women’s shelter. Sadly, stuff like that happens here sometimes.”
It didn’t sound like this was an incident. “Why doesn’t this place have security?”
“Not enough funds,” she explained, while coming over to him. “The usual cutbacks have put a strain on the place. Most of the money goes into providing beds, clothing, and food. The basics. There simply isn’t any money left to have a round-a-clock security guard.”
He pulled her into a corner near the front desk. “You can’t be here without any security.”
Her eyes flashed, ready to spit fire. “Listen, Italian stallion.”
“I’m half-Irish.”
A snort. “Yeah well, I’m half-angel, but no one has ever called me that. I come here every week. Don’t even think that you can keep me from this place.”
“Hector.” He called over his shoulder. “Take care of it.” He knew that was all he had to say. It had always been like that between them; a few words, or even a glance, was enough.
The fire in Jazzy’s eyes died, turning into surprise and then into joy. She jumped into his arms, hugging him. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” Her smile lit up the whole room.
He wasn’t sure why, but he liked seeing her happy. He also liked her playing with the buttons of his shirt idly, although he doubted that she was even aware of what she was doing.
She seemed more relaxed around him, speaking animatedly of this shelter she was obviously passionate about. He wouldn’t be who he was if he didn’t try to capitalize on that.
“Hector, why don’t you let Mary choose the security guard? I’m sure she can choose who would be a good match.”
Judging by the tightening of Hector’s lips, he didn’t like his suggestion one bit. But, as Gio would be paying for it, he wouldn’t protest.
When Jazzy’s smile turned even bigger, he knew he’d made the right call.
“Oh, you are so getting lucky tonight,” she whispered.
He so was. They both were.
CHAPTER 17
JAZZY
Jazzy woke up in the middle of the night, feeling disorientated. She’d spent a good deal of the evening giving Gio head and had loved every minute of it. She’d fallen asleep absolutely satiated, so she wasn’t sure what was wrong, until she heard a yell.
Gio was tossing and turning, the sheets only covering him up to his hips. Beads of sweat covered his body. A body that was writhing, as if in agony.
“Get the fuck off me.”
Startled by his snarl, she sat up, unsure as what to do. From previous experiences with Mary, she knew to not wake someone up during a nightmare.
“No! Get the fuck away from me!”
When he let out a cry, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She gently started rubbing his shoulder in the hope to wake him up. He started shivering and she slid down next to him, putting an arm around his waist. That seemed to do the trick because his body suddenly stilled.
It happened in the blink of an eye. Gio rolled, pinning her to the mattress and pressing his full weight down on her. A hand went to her throat as he bared his teeth. His eyes were like molten ice, shimmering with rage.
She froze, and her heart skyrocketed when she realized Gio wasn’t awake yet. She waited for him to recognize her.
And waited.
Please, please, snap out of it.
“Gio?”
He was staring into her eyes, but she wasn’t sure if he was seeing her.
“It’s okay. It’s just a bad dream.”
His chest heaved and then he blinked. Still, he didn’t utter a word. It took a full minute before she dared to speak again.
“Gio?” she whispered. “You’re kind of crushing me.”
It was as if she had spoken magical words. He let go of her throat immediately. His legs moved over her thighs and he braced his arms next to her head. Slowly he started kissing her neck, his nose nuzzling the spot where his hand had been just seconds before.
There was a silent question in his eyes. Almost as if he was asking for permission to continue. She didn’t like seeing him vulnerable, unsure as to how she’d feel if he kept caressing her. There might be things unresolved or left unspoken between them, but one thing she was sure of; since the moment she had laid eyes on Giovanni Detta, there hadn’t been a moment she hadn’t wanted him. So, she did the only thing she could do, what her body urged her to do.
Her hand found his hardness, stroking it, while her other hand pulled him closer.
“Make love to me, Gio. Please, take me.”
A part of her expected him to take the remnants of his rage out on her body. To manhandle her, take her roughly. That wasn’t what happened though. He placed the gentlest of kisses on her lips and then spread her thighs. With one thrust, he relentlessly pounded inside her, all the while, kissing her slowly.
She took it all. His pain, his rage, the deep thrusts, as if he was marking her. When he finally came, he took her with him, his tongue deep in her mouth, muffling her moan.
With a swift move, he pulled off of her, his harsh panting sounding loud in the night.
Jazzy draped herself over his body, relieved when he didn’t pull away. “It’s okay,” she said softly, placing a kiss on his chest. “It’s okay.”
She knew what it was like to not be able to speak about some things. Things that were so dirty, evil, that even putting them into words felt like a dent on your soul. Some things were better left unsaid. Buried deep within you. In a place so deep, hidden, and dark, no one would ever be able to shed a light on it, exposing it out in the open.
“If you ever need to talk about it, I’m here.”
He didn’t say anything. Instead, he kept stroking her hair, and that was enough.
***
When she woke up the next morning, it was to an empty bed. The side of his bed was cold; his nightmare must have really rattled him. The man she thought she had married, the man she had believed she had all figured out, had more layers than an onion. Every day, more and more, she r
ealized that he wasn’t just the man he showed the world; the real estate mogul dubbed as Black Ice. Because deep inside of Giovanni Detta, the fiery pits of hell were burning.
After a shower, she put on some baggy jeans and a black tank top. Today she was meeting up with Tommie again to go over their business plan they were going to present to the bank.
She sent Tommie a message with her address as she went into the kitchen to have breakfast. As usual, Thea had outdone herself. Her blueberry pancakes were to die for. Which meant Jazzy would definitely have to go for a run in the afternoon.
When she took her laptop and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice into the living room, the first thing she noticed was the new couch. A surge of warmth flooded through her when she saw that it was a big, brown, plush one and a delight to sit on. It surprised her that Gio had even remembered her complaining about it, let alone had it changed. She couldn’t help but smile at his gesture.
It wasn’t for another hour, when she was deep into coding, that the doorbell rang, and Tommie was led inside by Thea.
Tommie looked his usual self; ragged jeans, black t-shirt, and a postman bag which held his prized possession, his laptop.
“So, who did you have to sleep with to get in here?” he joked.
“I, um, actually live here.”
“You live here? Are you kidding me?” he asked, looking around with his mouth hanging open.
“If you don’t close your mouth, you’re going to catch flies,” she teased. So, she might have not have told him about her personal life much. Such as her grandfather being a former bank for the mob. Or that she was married to a semi-legit mobster progeny going white-collar. Or, okay, she hadn’t told him anything.
Tommie glowered at her. “You let me pay for lunch, you shit.”
“Yeah, thanks about that. Those pumpkin bagels were delish.”
“You’ve slept on my ratty couch,” he argued, his eyes still roaming around the living room that looked like a page from a magazine.
“You may not want to say that out loud,” she warned him.
“Why not? Someone here in the Scarface mansion going to make me sleep with the fishes?” he scoffed.
“Touch her and I’ll take you apart myself. There won’t be anything left for the fishes.”
Tommie spun around to where the voice had come from.
She scowled at Gio, who’d just walked in. “That’s not funny.”
“Since it’s not a joke, I should think not.” His cold gaze raked over her startled friend.
When Hector joined them from the balcony, Tommie gulped—actually gulped. Then again, as head of security, looking menacing was Hector’s job. His large frame, muscle on top of muscle, and perpetual scowl would intimidate anyone. Well, anyone but her since she had fought the devil himself and prevailed. Hector might look menacing on the outside, but he had nothing on Marco, who was beautiful on the outside, but rotten inside.
Don’t go there, Jazzy. Keep that memory locked inside your mental box.
“Don’t like Scarface, huh?” Hector growled.
Tommie started to stammer. “Um, I actually loved that movie. Just… I just didn’t think… I mean…”
Jazzy took pity on him. “Will you guys stop it? He’s here with me.”
Gio stood next to her in two short steps, his arm around her waist, pulling her into him. “And why exactly is that?”
It was impossible to miss the edge in his voice. He clearly didn’t like Tommie around her. Well, too bad. For the time being, this was her house too. She could bring around anyone she liked.
“Gio, meet my business partner, Tommie Green. We will be using this place as our headquarters, until we find office space.”
“There’s office space in the Detta Tower. Just take your pick.”
Be around him all day so he could watch her from a distance, distracting her? No, thank you very much.
Tommie cleared his throat. “We can’t afford an office in that tower, Mr., um, Detta, I presume?”
Gio kissed her slowly, clearly showing his ownership, and she barely controlled an eye roll. “You presume correctly. And obviously I wouldn’t charge my own wife.”
Her friend’s head snapped right back to her. “Wife?”
She sighed. “Tommie, meet Giovanni Detta. My husband.” It still felt weird saying that out loud. Also, a part of her felt like a fraud, since their marriage was one of convenience. “Thanks for the offer, by the way, but we’re going to decline,” she said, getting back to their original topic. “All we need for now is a computer and a flowchart, really. There’s enough space in this big house. Space that won’t cost us a mint.”
“Hector, why don’t you show Mr. Green to the living room? I need a minute with my wife.”
Before Jazzy could protest, Hector led Tommie away. She’d expected her friend to protest, but he was already trailing after the bodyguard. Did he just check out Hector’s ass?
When Gio took her by the elbow and guided her up to their bedroom, she knew it was going to take more than a minute.
As soon as he closed the bedroom door behind her, he rounded on her. “Why didn’t you tell him you’re married?”
“I didn’t get around to it.” When he cocked an eyebrow, she added, “Because it’s weird, okay? Tommie knows I’m not an impulsive person. I wouldn’t just jump into the fray like that, marrying a stranger. I guess I just didn’t want him to think less of me.”
He was silent for a moment. “Do you regret it?”
She looked up into his eyes that, as usual, didn’t betray what he was thinking. “No, I don’t.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Maybe I am,” she admitted. “I mean, we kind of had a rocky start, even before we tied the knot. To say the least. I guess I had expected the worst, for some reason.”
His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking it, when she mentioned the rocky start. She didn’t know what made her do it, but she grabbed his hand and placed a kiss on it, silently telling him that she didn’t blame him for that slap weeks ago.
“I don’t like you keeping our marriage from people, like it’s some dirty secret.”
“It wasn’t like that—”
“I don’t like you working with him.”
“Don’t like me working with him, or don’t like me working, period? I’m not a stay-at-home wife, Gio. If that was how you had pictured your perfect little suburban life, you should’ve married Gina or Mary.”
“Yet, here you are, at our home,” he said pointedly. “Staying.”
“That was a really bad joke.”
“You don’t need to work.” He frowned, as if the possibility of a woman working was a foreign concept to him.
“But I like to work.”
“But you don’t have to. You’re my wife.” He gestured around, as if pointing out the world to her. “If you need something, just let me know.”
It was like talking to a mule. His thoughts regarding her role as his wife were pretty archaic. It didn’t really surprise her, though. Women were considered an asset—a pretty, shiny object—by most men in their world, existing only to enhance their husband’s status. Her sister’s marriage was a testament to that.
“So what, you thought that my life would just stop during our marriage? Come to a halt, and would only restart when you want it to?” She snorted. “Think again. I do have a brain, you know, and I am planning to use it.”
“On what?”
“Excuse me?” Was he really saying he didn’t think she could think for herself? Would he really be that—?
“What is it that you are using your brain for? What are you working on?” he clarified.
“You really want to know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
She gave him a suspicious look, trying to figure out if he was making fun of her. He seemed to be genuinely interested in her answer, though. Fine. She would give him a chance. Just one.
“We are developing
a software program to track down people. It’s a facial recognition software, designed specifically for kids. We intend to use it to find kidnapped and runaway children.” She went on a few moments longer until she realized she was basically presenting him with their business plan. “I’m boring you.”
“No, you’re not. You sound passionate about it. Don’t let anyone ever kill your passion for anything you desire to do.” He pulled her close. “I want you to reconsider my offer for office space.”
“I don’t think—”
He put a finger on her lips, effectively shushing her. “Just think about it, okay?”
When she nodded, he pulled his finger away.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
“What?”
“Turn around and place your hands on the wall. I want to play.”
Why did his voice want to make her comply? She did as he asked and waited. And waited some more. Anticipation made her body hum and it was difficult to stop herself from turning her head.
The sound of his zipper sliding down somehow seemed obscene in the otherwise quiet room.
“You are my wife.” He grabbed her hair, pulling her head back against him. He bit her shoulder, soothing the pain with wet kisses that trailed to her neck, chin, and mouth.
“Who do you belong to, bella?”
She yelped when the palm of his hand landed on her butt. “To you. I belong to you.”
“Never forget or deny that.”
***
It wasn’t until half an hour later that he finally let her go. Damn him for making her all hot and bothered, and refusing to make her come. No matter how much she’d begged him. He’d said something about “anticipation” and “later” but honestly, she had been too far gone by then to pay any attention to his words.
When she returned to the living room, Tommie gave her a knowing smirk.
“Don’t even,” she warned him.
He held up his hands in defense. “Sure, these lips are sealed. Speaking of lips, yours are a bit, um… red and puffy. Maybe you should put some ice on them.”
She threw a magic marker at his head, making him laugh. She plopped down on the couch next to him and grabbed her phone from the coffee table.
