Make Me Yours (Top Shelf Romance Book 4)

by Devney Perry

  “I remember being so ill the next day. I couldn’t understand how I got as drunk as I did. When I left in the morning, I didn’t stop to look at who was in the bed. I ran away and didn’t look back.”

  “Damn. I thought for sure you knew. It’s my fault you were so drunk.”

  “I’m an adult, Bruno. I have a feeling that I happily went along with your seduction. Why haven’t you spoken to me since then?”

  “I tried, Callie. I tried. But every time I got close to you, you’d scurry off before I could get to you.”

  “You’re kind of scary,” I whisper.

  “I figured you were pissed at me. That you regretted the night together. I let it be. Figured it wasn’t meant to be and kept to myself. But I watched you. I’d sit in my office, waiting for you and Becca to show up. God,” he says and runs his fingers through his hair. “I wanted to kiss you again so badly. I ached for you. But I would never force you to be with me.”

  “Bruno.” I touch his face, sweeping my fingertip across his cheek. “I didn’t remember. I wasn’t mad at you. I figured you were staring at me because you hated me. You kind of have a way of freaking people out.”

  “I really thought you remembered.” His hand wraps around the back of my neck and pulls my lips to his.

  When he releases me and I look into his eyes, I see a look other than anger. I see it written all over his face. “I’m sorry.”

  “When Becca came to me, I panicked. I realized it was my way in, and I’d do anything to get one more night with you. When you said you had cancer, everything changed. I no longer wanted to fuck you. I wanted to save you. To protect you. To take away your pain and make everything all right. There was no way I’d leave you alone and let you push me away. Not after what we’d shared.”

  “Was it that great?” Now I’m pissed that I can’t remember. If it was that life-changing, I want to remember every moment of it, but all I draw is a blank.

  The corner of his mouth turns up, almost touching the corner of his eye. “Great doesn’t even begin to describe it, Cal.”

  “Fuck,” I mumble, my anger rising. “You can have any girl you want. Why would you want to be here with me? Spending time with a girl who’s so far gone she can’t even take care of herself. I’m a mess.”

  “I can’t argue that point. I obviously wasn’t as drunk as you were that night. I’ve kissed many women in my life, spent the night with more than I can remember. But that night, with you—it changed something in me.” He frowns and blinks slowly. “When I thought you were ignoring me afterward, I tried to fuck you out of my system. I told myself it was only the liquor. But when Becca came to me, I couldn’t deny how I felt anymore.”

  “So you like me?” I still have a problem processing this new information.

  “Cal, I more than like you.”

  I can’t help but stare at him, shocked. “Okay.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand. I still feel new to you, but you’re like coming home.”

  “All from drunken sex?”

  “We spent hours talking that night. We shared secrets. You were very forthcoming about your life. I felt like I could be myself around you. Never once did you look at me with fear. It was so refreshing. Trust me, the sex was off the charts. Never rivaled or beaten since, but it was more than that.”

  “Hmm. I told you things?” I purse my lips and wonder what I babbled about that night.

  “A lot of things.”

  “Like?”

  “It’s not important. You were drunk. I was drunk. We’ll leave it at that.”

  “But—” He puts his finger on my lips.

  “Leave it.”

  I nod. “Do you like me?” he asks.

  I nod. I do. I like him a lot.

  Bruno’s easy to be with. Comforting, always. But most of all, I crave his strength. I feel he’d do anything for me. No one has ever cared for me like that since I lost my mother. She was the only person who coddled me and told me everything would be okay. Then Bruno came into my life, and when he’s with me, I feel like nothing can touch me.

  “I’m kicking myself for all the time I wasted thinking you hated me and regretting being with me. I honestly never thought that you didn’t remember.”

  “Don’t,” I mumble against his finger before he pulls away. “You’re here now.” I smile.

  “I am.” He holds my face in his hands. I turn, melting into his touch. “I’m not going anywhere. Now that I have you, I’m not letting go again.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Bruno?”

  He winces. “I wanted to. I tried to, but I didn’t want to complicate things. You were already dealing with so much, and I didn’t want to add to it.”

  “Is that why you left me the last two weeks?”

  He glances away before looking back at me with a frown. “I had work to do. I had to go out of town. I figured you needed a little time to yourself. I kept in contact with Becca, and she assured me you were fine. I now know I have to have a little talk with her.”

  My eyebrows rise at the thought of him having a little talk with her. “She did check on me, but I’m very persuasive and she’s really gullible.”

  “I see that now.”

  “I thought you were never coming back,” I admit and use my shoulders to push his hand harder against my face.

  “I’ll always come back to you.”

  “Was that your secret?” I ask point-blank. Bruno has never spoken this much, and I figure now, while he’s being so chatty, is the time to hit him with what I want to know most of all. I mean, he’s already dropped a bomb on me, why not keep it rolling?

  “Yeah. That’s my secret.”

  I could call bullshit, but Bruno has never lied to me before. He may have omitted a thing or two, but he’s never flat-out lied. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” he answers and then looks at me again. “So you’re not mad?”

  “About what?” I snake my arms around his neck.

  “That I didn’t tell you sooner.”

  I shake my head and give a halfhearted smile. “I probably wouldn’t have been able to deal with that information if you had told me before.”

  “I didn’t think so. It wasn’t important, and you had enough shit on your mind.”

  “Yeah,” I whisper, tickling the back of his neck with my nails. “So now what?”

  “Now, we fight. You let me help. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Then how am I letting you? Sounds like I have no choice.” I bury my face in his neck.

  His hand strokes my back, slowly working up and down my spine. “You don’t. But no more pity and sorrow. You’re going to have to do everything I say.”

  “Everything?”

  He grins. “Everything.”

  I don’t like the sound of it, but I know I have to win. I have to have more time with this man. I’m not ready to give up and cave to cancer. After I get better, I need to stop this disease from destroying so many lives.

  Bruno will be my lifeline—my tether.

  Fighting Isn’t Easy

  I regret my words.

  Bruno takes liberties I didn’t anticipate. Telling a man, any man, you’ll do everything they say is like the kiss of death. I thought I’d be able to stretch the “rules” when he left my side, but nope. He made sure to be close by at all times, and when he wasn’t, he made sure I didn’t forget to follow his commands.

  I mean, seriously. The man has control issues.

  Bruno: Are you eating?

  I look back and forth between my phone and the plate. I had actually made a sandwich. Chicken salad wasn’t my best choice when my stomach has already been roiling. The mayo and texture make me want to hurl. I take a bite and swallow it down with a large glass of water. I’d been staring at it for a few minutes when he texted me.

  Me: Yes. I’m eating what you left for me.

  Bruno: Take a picture.

  “He can’t be serious.” I look from the phone and then to my s
andwich with only one bite missing. I know he won’t be thrilled by the amount I’ve eaten. I shrug and take a picture, sending it to him. I think about faking it and taking a bunch of bites, spitting it out in the trash, but I don’t. Why? Because the crazy, controlling fucker will probably check the trash can when he comes over later.

  Bruno: Eat more.

  I can’t do it. Not even for Bruno.

  Me: I don’t like it. It’s not agreeing with me.

  Bruno: I’ll have something delivered. Eat all of it.

  With my mouth closed, I scream to myself. The man is impossible. I only have a few hours before my chemo appointment, and he insists that I fill my stomach before. I don’t see the point since I’m only going to empty the contents of it afterward.

  Thirty minutes later, a delivery arrives from La Cucina, a local Italian restaurant. The funniest part about it is they don’t have a delivery service. Bruno convinced someone to hand-deliver the food and to do it quickly. I don’t blame the guy. Bruno could convince—more like intimidate—anyone to do anything.

  Being a smartass, I take photos as I eat. Snapping pictures of the food in various stages of disarray and taking selfies as I stuff forkfuls in my mouth. I actually eat every bite. It’s one of my favorite restaurants, and it has been ages since I’ve tasted their chicken parm.

  When Bruno arrives to take me to treatment, I’ve already showered and have fallen asleep on the couch. I know a night filled with sickness and the inability to do more than moan and be ill lies ahead. I figured I’d get the shower out of the way before because after I’d be worthless.

  “Callie,” Bruno whispers and strokes my arm.

  I shoot up, scared to death from the nightmare I’d been having. “Jesus. You scared me,” I grumble and rub my eyes.

  “It’s time to go. Ready?”

  I want to say no, because who willingly wants to have poison injected into their system?

  “Yep.” I push myself off the couch, swaying when I stand up.

  His face changes. “You okay?”

  I smile and hold on to him for support. “I’m fine. Just sleepy.”

  He holds my arms and glances down at me with concern. “You want me to carry you?” he asks with a dead serious look on his face.

  “Um,” I mutter. He moves like he’s about to lift me into his arms, but I bat him away. “Bruno, I’m fine. I can walk. Stop.”

  He pulls me into his arms and squeezes me tightly. I can’t help but smell him. It’s turned into a new favorite pastime. That and listening to his heartbeat, getting lost in the strong and steady thumping rhythm. “I’m staying the night.”

  “Mmmhmm,” I mumble into his chest and tangle my fingers in the back of his shirt. I don’t want to move. I’m just too damn comfortable to move.

  “Come on.” He kisses my hair. “We have a war to win.”

  I smile into his shirt. When going into battle, it’s good to have an ally who scares the shit out of everyone. I wish Bruno could say “Boo” to cancer and chase it away. But since that isn’t possible, it’s good to have him as a partner to keep me on the right path and road to recovery.

  “Bruno,” I whisper before looking up at him.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

  He smiles softly. “Me too, Cal. Oh, I brought you something.”

  “You did?”

  He pulls something from his back pocket. “Here.”

  “What is it?” I take it from his hands and open the tiny bag.

  “Open it.” Just like him, he doesn’t give anything away.

  Reaching inside, I pull out a set of dog tags. I stare at them and read the inscription.

  The sentiment is too much. Tears form in my eyes and the words blur before I can read them again.

  He pulls them from my hands and lets the bag fall to the floor. “Here.” I have that ugly cry face happening as he slides the dog tags over my head. “Shh. I just wanted to give you something to remember that you’re a fighter. A survivor.”

  I cry harder and finger the metal pieces, looking at him with watery eyes. “Thank you,” I choke out.

  “Let’s go kick some ass, eh?”

  I nod and wipe my eyes. “I’m ready.” For the first time in a long time, I feel it too. I’m not going to let it get the best of me. I want to crush cancer. It won’t get the best of me. It won’t bring me down.

  While I’m hooked up to the machine and rifling through a magazine, Bruno excuses himself. I don’t think anything of it. He probably has work to deal with, but I still haven’t figured out exactly what he does. Something illegal. It’s probably best I don’t know, but I should.

  When he walks back through the doors, he has three large bags in his hands. “You doing okay?” he asks me as he sits down on the stool in front of me.

  “Yeah.” I motion toward the bags and try to see what is inside.

  “Just a little something for the patients.” He reaches for something inside the bag sitting closest to him, and I can’t drag my eyes away. He pulls out a stack of paperbacks and holds them up to show me the spines. “I thought they could use some new reading material around here.”

  This man. God, he’s full of surprises. “You bought presents?” I can’t hide my shock.

  He continues to pull out books, candy, and snacks. “Some people have to spend a lot more time here than you. They deserve new books to help them sit through treatment.”

  I gawk at him. I mean, this man may be a dream. No man is as good as he is to complete strangers. How in the hell could he be Bruno “The Butcher” but also be a man who brings books to cancer patients?

  Impossible.

  “Got a few other things too.” The last bag holds neck pillows. Before I can say a word, he hands them out to a few people in the room and walks back to me with a smile on his face. “I figured they’d be more comfortable.”

  “Who are you?” I ask and shake my head.

  “What?”

  “Who are you? I just don’t get it. I don’t get you. You’re a conundrum.”

  “I’m just me, Cal.” He pulls the stool under him and scoots closer.

  I lean forward. “You’re not who they say you are,” I whisper and look around the room to see if anyone heard me, but they are too busy with the new books and pillows to pay me any mind.

  He shrugs. “People rarely are.”

  “So who are you?”

  “Bruno.”

  Fucker. “The Butcher?”

  “So I’ve heard.” He grins.

  “Okay. Answer this.” I lean closer. “How could a man called ‘The Butcher’ bring a pillow to someone they don’t know?” I raise one of my painted eyebrows for effect.

  “Because they don’t know the real me. They know the rumors, they make up stories, but none of them knows who I really am.”

  “Well, that’s obvious.” I laugh softly and cover my mouth, trying not to draw attention to us.

  “What do you do, exactly?”

  He looks around the room before staring me straight in the eyes. “I’m everything they say I am and more.”

  My eyes widen. “Really?”

  He laughs. “No, Cal. You’re too easy.”

  My lips snarl. “Well, you didn’t get that nickname by rescuing puppies.”

  He crosses his arms over his chest and smirks. “Tell me what you think I do.”

  I move around in my seat, barely able to contain my excitement. “Okay.” I rub my hands together and start thinking about criminals. “Drug dealer?”

  “Nope.” His face doesn’t change.

  “Contract killer.” I nod because that would make total sense.

  “Nah.” He winks.

  I sigh and try to think of other illegal activities that would fit with his M.O. “Money launderer?”

  “No.” One of his hands comes up near his mouth as he rests a finger against his lips.

  “Fuck,” I mumble and lean back in my chair. My mind doesn’t work th
is way.

  “You think I’d steal innocent people’s shit?” His eyebrows draw together, which is funny. He isn’t so bothered when I ask if he’s a contract killer, but the thought of me thinking he’s a thief bothers him. Let the conundrum continue.

  “Sorry.” I shrug for some reason. “Just pulling shit out of the air. Bank robber?”

  “Not even close.”

  Well, shit. “I got it.” I snap my fingers. “Pimp!” He almost falls off the chair from laughing so hard, and the people in the room look over at us. I smile, completely embarrassed. “You’re a pimp. Aren’t you? It makes sense,” I whisper.

  His eyes sparkle with laughter as the tiny lines around his eyes deepen. “How in your beautiful, brilliant mind does that make sense?”

  I tap my finger against my lips and think of a good case for why it fits. “Um, well. You’re gone late at night. I’d imagine that’s when most of the action happens.” I waggle my eyebrows. “You have to have a strong pimp hand so people are scared of you, right? I mean, that’s what I think.”

  “Honey.” He caresses my cheek, trying to hold in his laughter. “You’ve listened to one too many Snoop songs.”

  “So not a pimp?” I purse my lips and start to giggle.

  “Nope. Not a pimp.”

  “I’m running out of shit here, Brun.”

  “I know.” His smile widens.

  “Hacker?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Human trafficker?”

  That one earns me a look that can only be described as I need to check myself into the nuthouse. “Bookie?”

  His eyebrows rise again.

  “That’s it.”

  “No.”

  “Fuck,” I drag my hands down my cheeks, almost out of ideas.

  “Blackmail?”

  “You’re stretching now.”

  “Fine.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I’ll stick with pimp. It’s the funniest.”

  He rubs his face, but I can see his smile.

  The nurse approaches us. “You’re all done.”

  I glance up at her in shock. “Already?”

  “It goes faster when you’re having fun.” She winks at me and her eyes flicker to Bruno.