Wrapped Up: A Triple Threat Sports Romance

by Lexi Cross

  I had accepted the fact that I would be giving myself away to Jake. I had been doing that since we were teens anyway. Besides, I didn’t belong to anyone else to begin with. I had been my own woman as long as I cared to remember. But when I approached the aisle to begin my procession, my father stepped up next to me and offered me his arm.

  “You look lovely, my dear,” he said in a sweet, fatherly tone. It was a tone I hadn’t heard since I was a little girl.

  Tears immediately started streaming down my cheeks. Tears of joy.

  Tears of torture as they threatened to ruin my makeup.

  “I hope you didn’t think I was going to miss this for any reason,” he said as we started to walk down together.

  As we approached the altar where Jake and the preacher wait for me, I could see clearly on Jake’s face that he had arranged for my father to be there. He had known I wouldn’t have reached out to my old man, and the old bastard wouldn’t have reached out to me either. We were both far too proud to come back from the things we had said and done over the past few months without some assistance.

  Luckily, I was marrying a man with a gift for working with people and convincing them to do what he wanted them to do. I wondered what other tricks he had up his sleeve. I figured I had our whole lives together to figure it out.

  My father gave me away to Jake, my high school sweetheart, the one who got away but was also the one who had come back for me. I stepped up next to my groom and the ceremony began. We were being united. We were becoming a family, and it made my heart swell in my chest to know that Jake had no idea how far along we were in becoming a family.

  I stood with the love of my life in front of our closest family and friends, including teammates and coworkers. We held hands in front of the preacher. Jake’s thick, firm hands held mine gently, tenderly, as if he were afraid he would break me if he held too tightly.

  As we said our vows, I could feel each word passing through our lips. We meant everything we said. We weren’t just reciting what we were told to say. The words changed as they were charged with meaning from our loving voices, our lips eager to touch each other instead of just talking to each other a few feet apart.

  When it was over, when we were presented as husband and wife to our beloved guests, we kissed. Our lips met, and time froze around us. Nothing else existed at that moment except the burning love inside of both of us as we tried to force it all together between our lips and tongues.

  The wedding moved quickly after that. It was as if when I opened my eyes, we were suddenly at the reception, sitting in the middle of the family table. My father had been talking, and I could feel the blush on my cheeks even though I couldn’t remember what he had just said that had everyone laughing and had me embarrassed. It could have been anything.

  As the speeches wound down, I decided it was time to share what I had to say. I stood with a glass of water in my hand, despite the fact that everyone else in attendance had either champagne or wine.

  “I want to thank you all for being with us today as Jake and I were finally joined together in marriage. As many of you know, our journey started back in high school, and I know I always felt like we had unfinished business, so when the opportunity presented itself for us to get back together, I knew we had to take it. It has been one hell of a ride, and I thank those of you who had been there to help us weather the storm.”

  I raised my glass briefly before I continued.

  “But as dark as the past was at times, our future is as bright as could be, and I have beautiful news to share with you all today. Jake and I are going to be parents. I’m pregnant.”

  His face lit up, and he stood, taking me in his arms at the table. He kissed me. Our lips locked together. Once again, the world beyond the two of us ceased to exist for a brief moment, and I knew that we had done the right thing by getting married and letting our relationship grow back into what it was before, back into something that could continue to grow.

  We made a wonderful team, and soon, we were going to have our own little teammates running around the house. I knew the child I carried was not going to be the last. Not if he kept kissing me the way he was right then.

  THE END

  Here is your free bonus book, RYDER

  Ryder

  I touched my boss’s precious princess. Now, he wants my head on a platter.

  Ryder

  I shouldn’t have gone anywhere near Pia.

  But how can you blame me?

  Her father is the one who assigned me to guard her 24/7.

  With a body that fine, a smile that tempting…

  I’ve never been good at keeping my hands to myself.

  It was only a matter of time until I took her as my own.

  This time, though, I might’ve gone too far.

  After all, it’s never a good idea to mess with the daughter of the Don.

  When he finds out what I’ve done, he wants blood.

  My blood.

  Now, I’m torn between my duty and my desire.

  And no matter which way I turn, I can’t see a way out.

  I knew he wasn’t the man for me… until I ended up pregnant with his baby.

  Pia

  Ryder is a hitman for my mafia boss father.

  When I’m attacked by a masked man one night, he adds “Pia’s bodyguard” to his job description.

  He was supposed to protect me.

  But the moment Ryder showed up at my door, he made me his.

  His mouth claimed me.

  His hands possessed me.

  His eyes enslaved me.

  But now, my father is forcing me to marry another man.

  That is, until he discovers that I’m carrying Ryder’s baby.

  Now, all our lives are in danger.

  Family, fear, pheromones… it’s hard to know what to do next.

  There’s only one thing I know for certain:

  My world will never be the same again.

  Chapter 1

  Pia Carelli flipped off the lights in her clothing store. The racks of clothing along the walls, the circles of shirts in the center of the room, all went dark. The lights that were perfectly placed, that so carefully showed off the colors and shapes of her precisely chosen designer lines, now highlighted nothing.

  She loved this store and everything it represented—her freedom, her good taste, her ability to hire and fire employees at will and order them around all day. It was fun, like her personal playground where she could do whatever she wanted. And her personal closet. If a piece didn’t look good on her, it wasn’t allowed to sit on her shelves. She was her own best advertising.

  She stepped outside. The evening air was cool, but not so cool that her sweater was too light. She’d dressed just right for the weather. The early spring air hadn’t turned warm enough yet, though her new spring lineup hung through her store. Had to stay ahead of the seasons. That was how it worked. If she waited until spring was upon them to stock spring lines, she’d be behind and out of date. Her spring lines had been in the store for a month now. A full week ahead of the shop down the street that she hoped to put out of business.

  She locked the glass door with a satisfying click and turned toward her car, a brand new Jaguar. She wasn’t sure she still liked this car, though. Maybe she’d have her father trade it in for a new Ferrari. That might be more fun. The Jag was boring her. She fished her keys out of her purse and clicked the button on the fob to unlock the doors. The lights flashed and the car beeped twice. She put her hand on the car’s handles and pulled.

  But then a hand clamped down over her mouth and a man was pulling her. She struggled against him, but her Versace heels didn’t give her much traction. She felt the heel of one shoe snap and wanted to scream even louder. It was the first time she’d worn them, and she adored those shoes. Now they’d be ruined forever. And they were so rare, she probably couldn’t even get another pair.

  The man pulled her farther and she managed to back away from his hand long eno
ugh to scream. The rough hand clamped down again.

  “Shut up, bitch,” he hissed in her ear. “I’ll cut your throat.”

  She tried to push against him. Now that her heel was broken, what did it matter if she scuffed the shoes? They were no good anymore. She kicked and dug her heels in the gravel.

  The man slapped her across the face. Her cheek stung, but her pride stung worse. Who was this man? Who did he think he was to lay his hands on her like this? Did he know who her father was? And what he’d do when he found out she’d been so mistreated? This man would be dead, and whoever he worked for would be dead, too. Idiots. Her father was far too powerful to let this crap go on. You didn’t mess with the daughter of the head of the Italian mob and live to tell the tale. Her attacker would pay for this. She’d make sure of it.

  They were almost to his car now and the reality of the situation settled over her. This wasn’t just about her shoes and being mistreated. She was going to be put in this man’s car. What would he do then? Take her somewhere? Was this about money and kidnapping her to get it? Or was this something worse? Was he going to touch her and hurt her? Was he going to kill her?

  The fear bloomed in her chest and spread through her body. She started shaking with it. She tried to plead with him, to tell him she’d give him money, anything if he let her go, but she couldn’t say a word with his hand so tight on her mouth.

  The skin of his hand was dry and coarse. She felt little pieces poking at the delicate skin around her mouth. He smelled, too. Like sweat and grease. Probably just crawled out from under a truck somewhere. Gross. Who knew where this guy had been and what he’d been doing. He was probably ruining her new Marc Jacobs sweater, too.

  Pia pulled harder, still trying to get free of the man’s grasp. This time, she broke free. She pulled so hard that she fell to the ground, putting a rip in her Givenchy skinny jeans. She ignored it for now and scrambled to face the man.

  But he wasn’t coming for her like she expected. Wasn’t reaching to grab her again. Instead, he fought a man. Someone had come to her rescue.

  Pia sat on the ground, afraid to move for fear of drawing attention to herself. And besides, her purse was near their feet and she didn’t see her keys. They’d fallen from her hand and landed somewhere.

  She could see the fight in full view. Her attacker wore all black. Sweatpants, a long-sleeved shirt, a knit cap over his head. All cheap junk clothing. Probably got it from some big box store. Her savior was slightly better dressed. His jeans hung well, though they weren’t a brand she’d ever carry. Too low end. But his leather jacket looked somewhat expensive. Middle grade, at least. Still far too cheap for her tastes. But the leather moved with him so well. She would have expected his movement to be too restricted in it, but his arms moved freely as he swung at the attacker.

  He landed several punches, clearly the much better fighter. The attacker ducked and swung back, but only landed one punch for every four her savior landed. Whoever this man was, he knew what he was doing.

  She wished she could see his face better. It was growing darker every minute and he moved so fast, it was hard to make out any features. The baseball cap on his head didn’t help either. She would have to thank this man and make sure her father rewarded him. Who knew why he’d been in the area or who he was, but he’d taken the time to help her and was putting himself in physical harm to protect her, so he deserved something for that.

  In fact, her father should maybe think about hiring this guy. Of course, he hadn’t jumped in in time to save her outfit, and that would cost her almost a thousand dollars to replace the damaged pieces, but he’d stopped her from being put into the attacker’s car, and who knew what would have happened next. He might have saved her life. He’d at least saved her dignity. A savior story was much better than a kidnapping story. All her friends would swoon over the fact that she’d been saved by a man in leather. They’d talk about it for weeks. Months maybe. They’d sympathize with her ruined outfit, then help her shop for a new one. She could hardly wait to text them all later.

  Her savior was definitely winning this fight. The attacker looked ready to crumble to the ground. His back was to her, but she bet he was a bloody mess. Maybe he even needed a hospital.

  As she watched, she thought he was starting to fall. His hand went to his back. But instead of landing on the ground, he pulled a gun from where it’d been tucked in a holster under his pants. He pointed the gun at the savior, who then put his hands up.

  The attacker took off, running past her toward his car. The car he had tried to get her in. He yanked open the door, hopped inside, and sped away.

  “No!” she shouted, unthinking. He couldn’t just get away like that. Where was the justice? That man needed to be taken to jail, then killed by her father’s men. He didn’t get to attack her like that and just drive away. No way. He needed to pay for what he’d done.

  But her savior came to her. He reached down to scoop her into his arms. God, he was so strong. She could feel his muscles bulging under her weight. He carried her like she weighed nothing, his arms easily holding her legs and back.

  “You’re safe now,” he said.

  She liked his deep, smooth voice. It was sexy and confident. She squinted up at him, trying to see more of his face. His jaw was visible in the light from the street. Darkness had fallen now and she could only make out a little of his face under the shadows from his hat. His jaw, though, was covered in a close-shaved beard. The kind she liked the most. Not too thick, but just enough hair to give definition to a sharp, strong jaw. His lower lip was thick and plump. The perfect kind of lips for kissing.

  He stepped into the light and for a moment, she could see his face. Her awe and appreciation faded. Whatever respect or desire she’d felt for him vanished when she recognized him. Ryder Saxon. He was one of her father’s men.

  So much for her thoughts that her father should recruit him. He already worked for him. Her earlier appreciation for his timing had turned to frustration. If he was hired to come save her, then why had that man even put his hands on her to begin with? Why had her expensive outfit been ruined? He should have gotten there sooner. Should have done his job better. Worthless. She should tell her father to fire him.

  Though, he had saved her in the end. She guessed that made up for it somehow. And she could at least have her father force the man to pay for what was ruined. That would make it better, too. She’d looked so cute today in the dark skinny jeans and oatmeal sweater. Her heels had been the perfect addition. Who knew what she looked like now. All ruffled up probably. Hideous probably.

  Though, even as disappointed as she was, she’d never noticed before how good looking he was. Along with his strength and muscles, he had a good bone structure in his face. The strong jaw was offset with high cheek bones and his eyes sparkled from their place under his brow. He could be a model if he took better care of himself. He was muscular, sure, but he’d need to be buff to be a model. And a man like him would never bother. He was probably covered in scars and tattoos. Gross.

  And the very worst part was, she was pretty sure Ryder was a hitman. Not just a bodyguard or thug. He got paid to off people. He probably had tons of guns and knives. Wait a minute. Then why in the world hadn’t he pulled a gun right back on her attacker? What was this guy’s problem? Oh, she’d tell her father for sure. He clearly hadn’t done his job right, and he’d have to pay for that. For letting her attacker get away without paying for what he’d done to her. That was unacceptable and her father needed to know.

  ***

  Earlier

  Ryder Saxon looked down at his phone. The boss was calling. Must be another job for him. Good. He was bored today and needed something to occupy his time.

  “Ryder,” he said, answering the call.

  “I have a job for you,” Matteo said.

  “Go,” Ryder said, ready to commit any details to memory. Nothing would ever be written down. That would be careless and stupid. He didn’t roll like that. He w
as good at his job and the boss knew it.

  “It’s different.”

  “Okay. What is it?” This wasn’t good. He liked simple and direct. Take out this guy, find him here. Boom. Done. But now he wanted to make things more complicated?

  “It’s not a hit. It’s a protection.”

  “Who?” Some people were much easier to protect than others. And it would mean a fair amount of time spent with whoever he was guarding. He wouldn’t protect just anyone.

  “My daughter.”

  Fuck. He couldn’t turn that down. But he hated that spoiled bitch. Hated everything about her from her whiny voice to her spoiled attitude. He could just see himself becoming her little gopher or lap dog if he took this assignment. If Matteo trusted Ryder with his daughter, then he trusted him big time. That was a good sign. He’d have to not only do this, but do it well.