by Reana Malori
Camille wanted to make a joke, but something in her friend’s words and tone gave a hint that she was battling her old demons again. “When I look at him, his skin color doesn’t matter. I don’t care what his last name is, all I care about is the way he treats me. And girl—” she paused to take a breath. Reaching across the table, she grabbed Shandra’s hand. “Do you remember how we’d always build our perfect man who would take us far away and treat us like queens?
“I do,” Shandra said, nodding.
“He does that for me. Every damn day. The way he looks at me. How he holds me at night when everything is quiet. How I feel when I’m with him. I could ask for the moon, and I swear that man would try to get it for me.”
“Damn, girl. Hell, I’m not trying to judge. It doesn’t matter to me if he’s fucking blue, as long as he treats you well.” Closing her eyes for a moment, Shandra took a deep breath before looking at Camille. “I don’t know, you just seem so different. In a good way. If this man is the one who can bring a smile to your face, then I’m down for that. You know that, right? I’m glad one of us is getting our happily ever after.”
“Yeah, I know. Then again, with this man, I’m not sure if that’s the right phrase.”
“So, is it true what they say about the Lucarelli men?” Doing crazed version of Charlie Chaplin’s famous eyebrow raise, Shandra laughed out loud.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Camille said in response. “Eat, girl. You know that man’ll be here before we know it.”
Looking across the table, she couldn’t help but smile at her best friend. Her sister. They’d been through so much shit over the years, they could practically finish each other’s sentences. Truth be told, she didn’t think she could have gotten through without her best friend.
And even though they never talked about it, she knew Shandra needed her, too. Shandra had gone through her own life-changing situation some years ago, about a year after finishing her master’s degree. A man who she thought was the one, turned out to be the worst one she’d ever encountered.
He’d plied her with his soft words, sweet promises, and pipe dreams. Until the night he turned against her, leaving Shandra alone and scared in a backwoods town where she had no friends. No way to reach out for help. No way to escape. Which was when the men showed up with evil intent. Claiming they’d paid good money to spend time with a woman tied to a bed. They meant to get their money’s worth, no matter the cost to the woman screaming for them to go away and leave her alone.
The horrors her friend had gone through for five days straight had changed her. It was her own determination and will to live that had gotten her out of that place. She’d escaped, running butt-ass naked for over three miles until she came to a gas station. The clerk had been an older woman with children of her own. When she saw Shandra, she’d taken her to a back room, called the local sheriff’s office, and grabbed her bolt-action rifle. You know, just in case those low-life sons of bitches decided to come looking for Shandra.
Her best friend had gone from a sweet, trusting girl, to a cynical, hard, take no prisoners woman. There were only a few people in the world who still had the privilege of seeing the woman underneath the armor.
It wasn’t often Shandra allowed her shields to drop. That she’d allowed some vulnerability to show today was telling. They considered themselves outcasts, different from everyone else. Women who could survive without the world’s expectations crushing them into a copycat of themselves. Childhood dreams had been just that, and best left in the past.
Each of them had parents who loved each other like the other person delivered the sun to the sky each morning, and the moon and stars at night. They weren’t going to settle for anything less than that. If they had to wait their whole lives, that’s what they would do.
It hurt her heart that her best friend still had demons to work through.
That fact she had a little girl as a product of that horrific incident didn’t help either. Amina, Shandra’s little girl, and Camille’s goddaughter, was the most beautiful, kind-hearted little girl she’d ever known. When Shandra discovered she was pregnant, everyone thought she’d end the pregnancy. She didn’t. Instead, she chose to raise her daughter in a home filled with an abundance of love instead.
And it turned out that Shandra was the best mom, aside from Camille’s own mother. Of course.
Placing her napkin on the table, she took a sip of her own drink. “Bitch, you know I love you, right?”
Shanda nodded, “You damn well better. Shit, I’m the most badass bitch you know, so you need to worship the ground I walk on. Now, where’s the waitress? I need another drink.”
They spent the remainder of their time laughing about any and everything. It hadn’t seemed like such a long time since they’d last spent time together. Sitting here now, Camille knew even two weeks was too long to be away from her best friend. She wouldn’t be doing that shit anymore. If Tristan didn’t like it, he could get over that shit. She would no longer ignore her sister for dick. It was some good ass dick, but dick, nonetheless.
“Hello, ladies,” Tristan’s voice broke through their laughter.
Well, speak of the devil, and he shall appear.
“Hey, Tristan. Here to pick your lady for an afternoon of kinky sex?” Shandra raised her eyebrows up and down in that Charlie Chaplin motion again, which caused both her and Camille to bust out laughing.
Since she never held her tongue when he was around, Camille thought he must be getting used to her outrageous statements. “If that’s what she wants. How many drinks did you two have?”
The frown on his face was cute. She couldn’t help running her fingers across his brow. Plus, she wasn’t telling him how many drinks they’d purchased. He’d just fuss and shit, and she didn’t feel like a lecture today. She was having fun with Shandra.
“Tristan, don’t frown so much. It makes you look mean.”
Sighing, he grabbed her hand, kissing her knuckles as he brought it to rest on his thigh. “I am mean. You just choose to ignore it.”
“Well, I think you’re mean,” Shandra interjected. “Then again, she needs someone mean, ‘cause her ass is just as bad. Did she ever tell you about the time a few years ago when we went hunting—”
“Shandra,” Camille yelled out. Giving a small shake of her head, she glared at her friend. “Tristan doesn’t need to know about that right now.”
“I just think he should know what he’s getting into. We’re a package deal, mama.”
Nodding, she knew Shandra was right. Eventually, he’d have to know, but today wasn’t that day. “I love you, Bitch.”
“Hmph, whatever, Bitch. I love you right back.”
Turning to Tristan, who bore a look of curiosity, amusement, and confusion, she leaned over and kissed him softly. “Hi.”
A smile curved his beautiful lips. “Hey, beautiful. You ladies all done?”
“Yeah, just let me get the check.” Lifting her hand, she waved to their waitress.
Grabbing her arm, he pulled it back down. Shaking his head, “Don’t do that. I have accounts at each restaurant in the city, and if I don’t, they know how to find me.”
Shaking her head, she looked at him with shock, “You what? No, I’m not leaving without paying.”
“Camille, come on. Grab your jacket, Shandra. I’m going to have Orlando drive you home.”
Even after two months of being with him, she still learned something new every day. Giving up the argument, she grabbed her purse as they exited the table, making their way to the door. All eyes were on them as they navigated between the tables and booths. Some gazes were envious, probably wondering how she’d managed to snag a man like Tristan.
If they knew who he was, they probably assumed she was a fling, a paid toy, or his goomah, or mistress in American terms. Fuck them if that’s what they thought about her.
She also noticed a few gazes that didn’t look that fr
iendly. A few men, and women, where shooting icy daggers of hatred in their direction. Those were the ones who probably thought they knew all about Tristan, his family, and what they stood for. They didn’t know shit, but they could sit on their high horses and judge him. She stared a bit longer at these people, almost wishing they’d say something out of line.
Stepping outside, she took a deep breath. All she wanted was to be held in her man’s arms after he gave her that big treat hidden inside his pants. Being needy, like this wasn’t really her style, but Tristan called to something inside her. It made her think crazy thoughts about rings, and babies, and white picket fences. Shit, she shouldn’t be thinking about that right now. No matter what she said to Shandra, it was too soon to be thinking forever.
Tristan’s large hand rested on the small of her back, and it warmed her immediately. Looking at her man as he gazed into her eyes, she softened. Over the past two months, she’d become very protective of him. Not that he needed it, she thought, looking around at his constant companions. These men looked like they could handle just about anything that came their way. She nodded to a few of the men she’d seen regularly.
Glancing up at him, she shook her head and smiled, “I don’t like it when people look at you as if you’re a monster.”
Lifting a hand, he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. Her tongue dipped out to touch the top of his thick digit. His chocolate gaze got even darker, which she knew was a sign of his arousal.
“I am a monster.”
Shaking her head, she disagreed with his assessment. “No. A monster could never be as gentle with me as you are.”
“Sweetheart—” he began, but she shook her head to stop his words. Shandra came to give her a hug goodbye, both promising they’d see each other next weekend.
Orlando motioned for her friend to enter a black SUV idling a few feet in front of them. Tristan led her to his usual vehicle. Leo was taking over for Orlando while he took Shandra home.
Settled in the car, Tristan pulled her across his lap. Kissing her softly, he leaned his forehead against the head. “I don’t like it when you’re not next to me.”
“I know. But it’s been so long since I last saw her. I miss her, Tristan. I work all day, then I see you every night. Even my weekends are taken.”
A frown creased his brow. “What’s that mean?”
Using one of her fingers, she brushed the tip against the frown lines covering his face. “It means nothing, except that I miss seeing Shandra. You know, I had a whole life before you.” She’d said it in a joking tone, but there was some truth to her words. Not that she’d give up any of her quality time with Tristan. Not one bit. But she’d also like some balance back.
“Baby, what’s that look on your face?” he asked, just as he trailed one of his hands up her thigh.
Looking into his face, she knew things wouldn’t stay like this forever. Something had to give, and she was afraid it was going to be her. She loved this man. Yes, loved.
And with that love came her underlying fear that something would happen to pull them apart. She knew there were secrets he had to keep from her, which she accepted. For now.
How long she’d accept his need to keep a part of himself hidden from her? She didn’t know the answer to that question. Plus, she had her own secrets that weren’t ready for primetime just yet. Would he look at her differently if he knew the hunting trip Shandra alluded to was to hunt the men who hurt her best friend? Would he judge her too harshly if he found out what she, Shandra, and D had done to those men once they’d found them?
Soon, she’d have to decide just how far she was willing to go down this road. She had to be all in, or all out. There was no in-between in Tristan’s world. They were playing house, but the moment of truth was coming soon. Camille wasn’t sure she was ready to pay the price for her decisions.
“Camille!” Tristan yelled her name, getting her attention. “Where were you just now? You blanked out.”
Not ready to divulge her secrets just yet, she smiled seductively. “I was just thinking about how I want to strip you out of those pants. How I want to climb over your body, placing my tight pussy over your thick cock.”
His hands squeezed her legs tightly. At the grimace that came over his face, she knew he was regretting her choice of clothing. Black leggings and a long red button-up shirt with a black belt.
“You’re killing me, Camille.”
“Don’t worry. We have fifteen minutes to your house. Let’s see what trouble we can get into.” Sliding off his legs, she reached over to undo his belt. “Let’s see if I can make you cum before we get to the house.”
A loud hiss escaped Tristan’s lips, “Fuck me.”
“Not yet, but soon.” With a smile, she got down to pleasing her man.
CHAPTER 8
Tristan knew something was going on in Camille’s mind. From the time he’d picked her up from the restaurant earlier today, she’d had some shit going on in her head. He wanted to make her tell him what the fuck was happening, but he knew it would cause a fight.
His woman was nothing if not feisty. When they first met, he thought she was shy, almost introverted. After a few weeks of being with her, getting to know her, he’d learned fast that she was none of those things.
Hell, she could throw down drinks with the best of them. Cursed like a sailor. Wielded a hammer and saw like no man he’d ever come across. Shot a Glock .9mm, almost better than some of his guys, which they weren’t too happy about. And her temper was quick to burn, and it burned hot. Then again, he’d also realized she was loyal to those she loved.
Her parents were always her number one priority, then her best friend Shandra, and then her friend Dwayne, or D, as she liked to call him. That last one he’d had a real issue with at the beginning. He may not be as old school as his uncle wanted, but he sure as fuck wasn’t going to have an unknown man with his dick swinging around his woman.
He’d made a point to meet up with Dwayne outside of the neighborhood where he lived. He didn’t want to get tongues wagging about why a Lucarelli was hanging out in the wrong neighborhood. It could send the wrong message about what type of business the family was into. No, that wouldn’t do at all.
The conversation with D had been interesting, with neither of them giving an inch. Considering he was Camille’s friend, and Tristan couldn’t put a bullet in his head without feeling her wrath, he’d tried a new tactic. Instead of going in guns blazing, he had a conversation. Yeah, that shit wasn’t normal at all, but he’d done it for the sake of his woman.
“Camille belongs to me. Remember that.” Tristan leaned against his car, hands in his pocket. If anyone saw the two of them, they’d think it was a friendly conversation. Maybe.
“Camille belongs to no one. She’s her own person. Plus,” giving him a long look, “she doesn’t know you’re here trying to scare me away.” D laughed and shook his head. “Man, if she had any idea of this little conversation you were planning, we wouldn’t be here,” Dwayne responded with just as much venom in his tone.
“I’m only warning you once.” Tristan’s frustration was increasing. Who was this guy to speak to him like this? Eyes squinting in anger, he was trying not to lose his temper and do something he’d regret.
“I know who the fuck you are, Tristan Lucarelli, and I still don’t give a fuck. All’s I’m sayin’ is, Camille is my little sister. I’ve been protecting her for almost twenty-five years. I will kill for that woman without a second fucking thought.” Shaking his head, he gave a low laugh, seemingly not worried about how close he was to death. “You want to be with her? Then she’s the one who decides that. If she wants you to be the man at her side, I’m cool with that. Not my place to decide who she keeps in her bed. But recognize that I’m not going anywhere.”
Tristan was tired of this conversation, even as he gave the guy props for not bitching up. “You will if I say so.”
Laughing, Dwayne stood up straight,
adjusted his clothing, and stared at Tristan. “I got mad respect for you, Mr. Lucarelli.” Although the way he pronounced Tristan’s name said otherwise. “Not many motherfuckers would cross my path voluntarily. Especially not threatening me about Camille or Shandra.”
“I’m not many motherfuckers,” Tristan responded as he watched the expressions on Dwayne’s face. Annoyance. Mirth. Anger. Calm.
Well, that was interesting.
The dark-skinned man standing in front of him smiled, but Tristan wasn’t fooled. Dwayne was a predator. Dangerous. Deadly. But he was cautious of Tristan. He didn’t back down, but neither did he engage. At this, Tristan’s lips curled up in a smile of his own. He knew why Dwayne was still somewhat cautious. He’d recognized the same traits in Tristan that he saw in himself. The only difference between the two was that Tristan ate predators for breakfast.
In school, he’d come across the perfect descriptor for what he was.
Apex Predator.
As such, there was no motherfucker higher on the food chain than him.
The easy smile might fool some, but for those who recognized a kindred spirit, there was always a healthy dose of respect. Usually, he’d make men like Dwayne kneel, make him acknowledge the power that coursed through Tristan’s body. He’d decided to be generous today.
Dwayne’s body relaxed a bit before he looked down at his watch. A sign of disrespect. Orlando and Leo shifted, which Tristan caught in his peripheral. Shaking his head for them to stand down, he looked at Dwayne and raised an eyebrow. Is this really how you want this to go down, the look seemed to ask.
Smiling at him, D understood the look. Nodding his head in acknowledgment, he turned his gaze away for a moment before speaking again.
“No, you’re not other motherfuckers. I respect that. But before you threaten all manner of shit you’ll do to me in the name of Camille, you might want to understand just who it is you have by your side. Her father tasked me with watching over her since she was eight years old, and I take my job seriously. Her father? Let’s just say, I’d rather tangle with you than with him on any day of the week. And Camille? Well, she is definitely her father’s daughter. Of that, I have no doubt. So, before you threaten me again, you should check with her.”
