What I Fight For: A Bad Boy Military Romance (Easy Team Book 1)

by Gemma Hart

  It wouldn’t do either of us, Halle or me, any favors if I had.

  No matter this unique draw I felt to Halle, I couldn’t have others think that there was something special between us. That kind of talk would immediately work its way up to Roy and the last thing I wanted was to give Roy another thing to use against me.

  Especially if that thing was Halle.

  Feeling my body finally loosening up and my cock returning to a more manageable pressure, I swiftly left the dining room to follow Halle up.

  But as it turned out, I didn’t need to go very far.

  Standing only three steps up from the foyer, Halle was leaning her head against the banister, one heel dangling off the step as she precariously balanced herself in the odd position.

  I huffed a laugh and shook my head as I walked towards her. She certainly could drink stiff brandy like a pro but that definitely didn’t mean she knew how to hold it.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, standing on the foyer behind her.

  “Admiring your marble stairs,” she mumbled, still hunched over. “What do you think?”

  I ran a hand down my chin, trying not to laugh. This girl had some balls. There were very few people who would dare talk to me like that. And even fewer after witnessing me punch a man onto his back.

  “Do you think you could save that for tomorrow instead? Why don’t you admire the porcelain of your toilet instead?” I said, coming up behind her and raising her upright.

  Halle winced as her eyes were pulled away from the darkness of her arms. “Oh god, I think I might just have to,” she groaned. She tried to take a step up but swayed alarmingly before falling back.

  I caught her swiftly in my arms, her body molding against me as if it had been made specifically for me.

  “Jesus, woman,” I said hefting her up and nearly chucking her over my head. “You need to eat more. You hardly weigh anything.” But Halle ignored me and instead burrowed her head into my chest.

  She was a soft weight in my arms and I carried her easily up the stairs. With every step, I felt myself feeling the true weight of my attraction towards this woman. It was so strange. So surreal. I hardly knew her.

  And yet, there was something so undeniably alluring about her. She was a bag of contradictions. She was shy one moment, then flirtatious the next. She was ballsy and then frightened. She was quiet but she was also funny.

  I had wondered in the beginning if she had been trying to land the un-landable Marco Desmond. I had experienced more than a fair share of women who had come into the Family for that express purpose. I could pick them out from a mile away.

  But if that really was her goal, she was certainly taking a route never tried before. Very few women got so drunk that they could barely bat an eye at me. That usually wasn’t very conducive for strategic flirting.

  I reached the second floor and headed towards the east wing.

  But I realized, if I truly cared about her, I couldn’t let my feelings get the better of me. At least, not anymore than they already had. In fact, if I had really wanted her safe, I wouldn’t have stepped back into the dining hall.

  The quicker she was scared away by the Desmond Mafia, the better.

  Working for the Desmond Mafia was a gamble at best. And right now, with the plans I had in works, it was a death sentence at worst. Love had always been a mythical idea around the Desmond Family. A mythical idea that was frowned upon and mocked.

  I had definitely done my fair share of mocking. Countless women had claimed they had loved me, nudging me for a diamond ring in return.

  Shifting Halle’s weight, I opened the door to her suite. The rooms were still quite bare. She hadn’t brought much in way of clothing or decorations. I laid her carefully down on her bed.

  As I laid her head down on the pillow, I wondered, could I love her? I almost laughed at myself. Me? Love anyone? I could hardly stand myself sometimes. There was no way in hell this jagged piece of heart could love someone else.

  Get your head straight, Desmond, I thought, shaking myself mentally.

  Just as I was about to stand back up, a hand reached out and grabbed at my shirtfront. I looked up in surprised to see Halle staring up at me, her blue eyes as wide and deep as lagoons.

  “You came back,” she murmured. “You came back to the dining hall.”

  I stared at her.

  Despite the countless women I’d fucked in my lifetime, I’d learn that none of that could patch that void I felt inside me. That void which only grew with every job I did for Roy and the Desmond Mafia. And it was ridiculous to expect anyone to ever be capable of such a thing.

  It was safer for both myself and for all womankind in general if we kept our relationship on a biblical level. Let’s fuck. And then forget.

  Whatever it was called—love, companionship, romance—it wasn’t for me. And it was time this girl learned that about me.

  “No, I didn’t,” I said coolly. “You and your tablemates were making a racket and that’s something Roy does not approve of.”

  Halle’s eyes washed over me. “But you saved me,” she insisted.

  I sighed. “I saved Roy from having to look for another accounts manager,” I corrected. I gave her a cold look. “Although, it might’ve been a favor to him if he did find another one. Preferably one who was a little more drink shy.”

  Those two blue orbs that seemed to hold the power of oceans studied me carefully. I kept my face neutral and cool. Her hand was still wrapped around my shirtfront. Although I kept my expression aloof, I couldn’t help be feel that unnatural draw towards her soft lips.

  “You saved me,” she finally said quietly, in a decisive tone of voice.

  I pressed my lips together in a hard line. If I wanted to do this girl any favors, it was to show her that being with me is exactly the opposite of what she should want.

  You’re gonna have to learn quick, little girl, I warned mentally. If you want to stay alive around here.

  With lightning quick movement, I grabbed at her wrist that held onto my shirt, pinning her to me. Then with my other hand, I thrust it up her dress without warning, finding the lacy panties that lay hidden underneath.

  Halle’s large blue eyes widened in shock as she felt my hand touching her intimately under her dress. She wriggled and tried to pull away but I kept a good tight grip on her wrist, keeping her close.

  “Wha—” she started but I cut her off.

  Grabbing the front of her panties, I yanked them hard forward so that the material bunched into the center of her pussy, rubbing the fabric directly across her clit hard.

  She gasped as she felt her panties scrape across her most sensitive folds. I held the bunched material mercilessly taut, almost making her hips rise so that she could relieve some of the pressure.

  Leaning in, I whispered, “There’s no saving here, sweetheart. This is the Desmond Family. Either you learn to survive on your own or you burn and die. Don’t expect a hero.” I gave her a cold look. “You are in the house where villains are born.”

  I gave another hard yank of her panties, making her hips bounce. Halle gasped, her cheeks red with shock and embarrassment. Her mouth had dropped open in surprise and had stayed open.

  I let go of her wrist and immediately she wriggled to the other side of the bed, the stupor of alcohol temporarily dissipated from my assault.

  I slowly rose and gave her one final cold look before turning around, letting the door slam behind me.

  Consider that a favor from me to you, Miss Margot. I took a deep breath, shaking off the heat of her body that still pulsed against my hand. Hopefully that scared her away enough to keep her far from my person. Maybe even enough to keep her far from the Desmond Family.

  But if it hadn’t been enough…if she hadn’t been scared off….

  Well, the devil doesn’t deal in second chances. If she wanted it that badly, we could burn together.

  Chapter Eleven

  Halle

  The spreadsheet columns
wavered in and out of my vision as my mind wandered off. I had been cleaning up some of the accounting mess that I had inherited for the last four hours. It was detailed and intricate work that showed me just how vast the Desmond fortune was.

  But after so many hours of looking at tiny print and hundreds of columns of figures, my mind was having a hard time focusing on the job.

  Instead, it kept wandering back to a pair of dark eyes and a rugged body. It kept pulling me back to the memory of his spicy masculine scent and his strong and powerful arms as they wrapped themselves around me.

  The night of the dinner was a little blurry thanks to the brandy. But I remembered the moments worth remembering. I remembered being tossed into Marco’s arms as if I weighed as much as a newborn. And I remembered how absolutely comfortable and safe I had felt in them.

  I knew it would sound crazy to anyone else. Everyone knew just how dangerous the Desmond Family was. How could anyone think themselves safe in their arms?

  And yet, I couldn’t deny the warmth I had felt that night. I closed my eyes, remembering that flood of relief I had felt when Marco had come to my rescue. Since then, I had yet to see Wiggy or any of the men from my table.

  And then in my room….

  Although I knew I was alone in my office, my cheeks burned red as I recalled his expert hands as they plunged up my dress, finding my panties instantly. He had gripped them into a bunch and pulled, pulling the material straight between my burning pussy.

  I had hoped to god he hadn’t noticed just how aroused I had been. Yes, I had been stunned by his actions, shocked even. But my body undeniably had also been aroused. With each pull of my bunched panties, my pussy had grown more inflamed, more needy.

  After spending countless months trying to deny and hide my sexuality as a woman because of its liability, it was surprising how refreshing it was to have a man look at me as a woman. And not through the eyes of greasy chauvinism like at the FBI but with the fiery heat of a man who was clearly attracted to the woman before him.

  But more than the memory of that night, what really stuck with me was his expression. His face had looked calm and cool as if he didn’t have his hand up my dress and was playing havoc with my pussy. But I could see something past those obsidian eyes. There was a struggle, a turmoil.

  Marco Desmond was definitely not what I had been expecting when I had taken this job.

  He was known, and even documented in his FBI file, as a notorious womanizer. Everyone from models to actresses had fallen for him. And each one had been casually tossed aside after only a few months. He was a dangerous mobster, a ladykiller, and an actual killer.

  I had expected a smooth talking playboy who had a pension for criminal activity.

  And when I had first met him, that’s what he had looked like. But now, living under the same roof as him, looking through the Desmond accounts, hearing the gossip around the women who congregated here, I could tell that there was something much more to this man.

  Anyone with two eyes could see Marco Desmond was a skilled fighter and killer. Even in the way he walked, you could see the complete control and grace he had over his body. He knew exactly how to control every muscle within him and if he so chose, use them to effectively kill another person.

  But there was a contradictory light in his eyes. His very presence seemed to fight against being in the Desmond Family compound and yet he took on all the jobs he was assigned and completed them successfully. He seemed not to want any recognition for his work for the Mafia by hiding constantly under a variety of aliases and yet still did the work that made up the backbone of the Desmond Family.

  What was his struggle?

  I opened my eyes and looked at my computer screen. The numbers here also spoke of an oddity. Where was his name in any of these accounts? I had yet to find anything that Marco Desmond could lay claim to except the plants in Germany. And as far as I could see, nobody seemed to have a hand in the plants management except Marco.

  It made no sense. Could Roy Desmond be that greedy?

  But before I could go further in my line of thought, a knock at the door interrupted me.

  A man stood in the doorway. I recognized him as one of Roy’s personal guards.

  “Mr. Desmond would like to speak with you,” he said.

  I swallowed before nodding. I had had very few moments to speak with Roy Desmond so far. And in all of the meetings, the Juarez Family deal had yet to be mentioned, much to the consternation of Agent Hadfield and Truman.

  Meeting Roy Desmond was still a nerve wracking experience.

  I slowly rose and followed the guard out towards Roy’s own personal offices.

  Although this was a mansion meant to be a home for someone, albeit an extremely luxurious home, Roy had his offices set up like an actual executive suite in an office building.

  There was an outer room complete with a secretary’s desk and two expensive leather sofas meant for waiting guests. There was no secretary presently though.

  And then two heavy double doors led into the inner sanctum of Roy’s office.

  I was immediately led through.

  Roy was in a deep red leather chair, smoking another one of his thick cigars. He was reading the paper when I came in. He barely looked up even as I took a seat across from his desk.

  I waited politely as he finished his paper, too nervous to make any noise anyway.

  Finally, Roy looked up, fixing me with his sharp gaze. “I hear you’ve been quite the busy bee in your office,” he said.

  That startled me a bit but I immediately calmed myself. Of course he’d have people spying in on me. This was a mobster’s house after all.

  I nodded. “Yes, I’ve nearly straightened the accounts for the Helmsley merger and now I’m going through the Denton—”

  Roy waved a hand, cutting me off. Clearly he wasn’t that interested in the details. “Fine, fine,” he said. He ran his tongue over his gums, casually sucking his teeth as if he was considering something.

  “It seems you’re taking to this work,” he said, his gravelly voice slow.

  I nodded. “I’d like to think I am,” I answered.

  Roy nodded. “Then maybe you’re ready to do a little bit more for me,” he said.

  I took in a quick intake of air, wondering what he could possibly be asking of me. I tried to keep my face calm and expectant without looking too nervous at the same time. Would he finally be bringing up the Juarez deal?

  Roy pursed his lips. “I’m sure looking through the files, you’ve noticed that most of the Desmond holdings are under my name,” he started.

  Whatever I had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. “Yes, I have,” I said slowly, still unsure where this was going.

  Roy nodded, pleased I had caught that. “Well, all of that is the product of my blood, sweat, and tears for this Family,” he said in a loud tone as if to brag and defend his earnings at the same time. I nodded again. Roy blew out a ring of smoke.

  “It’s right that the head of the family should have the majority hold on everything,” he continued. Then he gave a large shrug. “But eventually, there’s a turnover.”

  Marco.

  He’s talking about Marco.

  “My son,” Roy said, confirming my guess, “is becoming ready to take over. He’s worked hard for the Family.” Roy paused as he took another puff from his cigar. “He deserves to have his name put on a few of those holdings.”

  So Marco’s name had been absent all this time because of Roy’s greed? That was really the reason why? But it didn’t seem to make total sense. Marco was missing everywhere.

  “You’d like me to transfer some of the ownership titles to Marco?” I asked, clarifying.

  Roy nodded, grinning to himself. “That son of a bitch has avoided responsibility long enough,” he muttered, almost to himself. Then he raised his head and nodded again, saying in a louder voice, “Pick a few of the holdings from the East Coast and have them transferred into Marco’s name. Aim to give him a
35% majority ownership.”

  35%! That was huge! Marco essentially had 0% stake in anything valuable currently. To raise him to 35% meant he would only be second to Roy. That was a breathtaking rise in fortune!

  “You’re a notary too, right?” Roy suddenly asked.

  I nodded dumbly, still too shocked to respond.

  Roy puffed his cigar and nodded, pleased. “Good, good,” he said. “File the paperwork, send me a copy to review, and then notarize the transfer.”