The Rossi Brothers

by J. L. Beck

  The moment ends, and with little effort, Damon pulls me to his chest. I rest my head against his warm skin. The sound of his heart beating fills my ears, its steady rhythm calming me. As his hands glide down my arms, goosebumps cover my skin.

  After today, I was certain I’d never let him touch me again, but now I’m not so sure.

  His hold on me tightens, instinctually, as if he wants to make sure I don’t go anywhere. Shock twists deep inside me as he brings his other hand to my head, burying his thick fingers into my brown mane. When he starts playing with the natural curls at the ends of each strand, I nearly moan.

  His touch relaxes me, soothes me. I don't want this moment between us to end.

  “Don’t be scared. You have no reason to be scared of me.” He licks his lips before smiling at me. “I’m a bastard, a killer, and the worst man to be in your presence, but I’ll do whatever I can to protect you,” he whispers before his hand stills in my hair, cradling my head against his body.

  His touch is gentle; his eyes are kind. This is the man I wish I'd met earlier today. Not the devil in disguise.

  “Do you mean that?”

  “Yes, I mean it.”

  He sounds like he is about to go back to sleep. Afraid to move, to wake him, I cuddle up to his warm chest, letting him comfort me, partially because it feels good, and partially because I know he’s the only one who can now.

  My eyes grow heavy, and I doze in and out of consciousness, though I never go fully back to sleep.

  When I notice the sun rising, the first morning rays shining in through the window, I decide to get a shower. The only reason I didn’t shower last night is because I was scared to take my clothes off even for a second with a guy like Damon under the same roof as me. Now that I feel a little better, and after the kiss that took place between us, I’m confident no one is going to jump me in the bathroom.

  Least of all Damon.

  I slowly peel myself off him. My cheek is hot where his chest touched my skin, and I run my fingers against it to draw some of the warmth out. As soon as I’m up and out of the bed, I immediately miss it. I miss him, the warmth, and the sound of his heartbeat beneath my cheek. It’s a strange emotion to be feeling toward a man who had threatened to kill me not even twenty-four hours ago.

  But after all I’ve endured, nothing can truly shock me. Not now. With one last fleeting gaze, I sneak back into the guest room, grab my backpack, and go into the attached bathroom.

  After showering and dressing, I hear a loud commotion outside my door. The guy from yesterday—Hero, I think—runs out of Damon’s room like a madman. His shoulder bumps into mine. Luckily, I’m close to the wall, otherwise I’d be sprawled out on the floor from the force.

  Damon appears from his room a moment later, fully dressed, a look of annoyance on his face.

  Where the hell are they going?

  “Stay here, don’t touch anything, and don’t try to leave. If you do, I’ll find you, and if you thought I was bad yesterday, you haven’t seen a damn thing, sweetheart.”

  I gulp down my fear, attempting to hide the feelings he draws out of me. This is the guy I met at the club, not the one I saw last night in his room. Why is he acting this way? Why is he pretending to be someone he clearly isn’t?

  With his mask fully in place, he walks away, leaving me a mess of misunderstanding and confusion. I decide then that Damon might have everyone else fooled, but after getting a glimpse of him—the real him—I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to see him the same again.

  6

  Damon

  When I went to bed last night, I thought I’d had the equivalent of a shitty day. But fuck me sideways, today has been far fucking worse. In all the years I’ve been selling drugs, running Night Shift, and pimping girls out, I’ve never seen as much pain as I have today.

  Hero is a friend, a damn good one, but seeing him find Elyse the way he did, the anguish in his eyes, the despair...it stabbed me in my nonexistent heart. I’ve seen my fair share of violence...hell, I’ve done most of the killing, but what I experienced today…I don’t think there will be any topping that for a while.

  Pulling into the driveway of my house, I realize Keira is still here, and that she’s been here all fucking morning and afternoon alone.

  Fuck! She may have ran. Fear swims through her veins all the time. It wouldn’t surprise me if I found her gone.

  My thoughts shift, remembering the look in her eyes last night as she let me pull her into my arms. She was scared, terrified, afraid of something. I don’t know, I didn’t bother asking, but I could see it in her eyes.

  She wanted my protection, practically came begging me for it, and I promised her I’d give it to her without hurting her or demanding a damn blowjob.

  Why did I turn her down? I grind my teeth together, as if doing so will draw an answer out of me. I don’t fucking know why. Maybe it was the weed or the booze or the combination of the two that got the thing in my chest to work like I told it not to—or maybe I didn’t want to see her beautiful face full of fear and stained with tears anymore.

  I roll my eyes.

  Stupid me. Stupid heart.

  Sometimes, I wish the fucker would stop beating altogether. When your heart gets involved, it leads you down roads you normally don’t go down. I could easily see Keira and her tiny, hot as fuck body guiding me down a road I don’t need to go down.

  I kill the engine on my Cadillac and get out, slamming the door. I still have to go back to the club, which means I have to go inside, corral Keira, then drive all the way across town with her in tow. And after last night, I know I’m going to get an earful. I need to make sure shit like last night never happens again.

  I can’t be seen as weak, especially not by her.

  Walking up the front steps, I unlock the door and push it open.

  My gaze swings around the open entryway. A part of me hopes she left—less work I have to do—while the other part is scared shitless at the thought. If my brother gets his grubby paws on her, she’s as good as dead. Still, knowing I want her to be here more than I want her gone irritates the shit out of me.

  She irritates the shit out me.

  Her presence, and the fact that she makes me feel more emotions in one day then I’ve felt in my entire life.

  As I move deeper into the house, I look around for her. Complete silence settles over each and every room. No TV or radio on. No running water, foot steps, or any other sounds that would give her being here away.

  I clench my fists at my side. I hate how disappointed I am that she’s gone, and I hate even more that I’m already making plans to find her.

  I walk back into the living room and realize I’ve left the joint from last night on the coffee table. I lean over to grab it, and that’s when I see her—her small body lying in the recliner. She’s curled up in a blanket, her eyes closed and face relaxed, making her features even more beautiful. Her lips are slightly parted, and I’m reminded of the kiss we shared. I still don’t know what came over me when I kissed her. All I know is I wanted to do it then, and I want to do it again right now.

  Like the creep I am, I stand there, feet away, and watch her sleep. She’s so at peace, so fucking perfect, it’s insane. I wonder for a half-second what it would be like to have her as mine. As soon as the thought enters my mind, I shut it down.

  I’m Damon Rossi. I don’t do love. I don’t do mine. Nothing lasts forever in the world I live in, and Keira is too weak to survive it.

  But she’s damn nice to look at. I don’t know how long I stand there, staring, watching every breath that fills her lungs. The sudden ringing of my phone pulls my attention away from Keira, and I swear the damn ringtone has never been so fucking loud. Kiera practically jumps from the recliner, the blanket covering her moments ago hitting the floor. Her movements make me jump a little too.

  I don’t even check the caller ID. I hit ignore and stuff the phone back in my pocket. Whoever it is can wait. I have more important things to
assess to right now.

  “I have business to attend to at the club. Let’s go.”

  Keira eyes me cautiously, as if I’m a rabid animal that could attack at any given second.

  “Why do I have to go? I don’t like it there.” She frowns, still breathing heavy from being scared by my ringtone.

  “This shit again?” I roll my eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you how this works? I order you to do something, and you fucking do it! No questions asked, no comments, no whining—a whole lot of actually fucking doing what I tell you.” Fire burns through my veins. I’m not used to this shit, to people not doing as they’re told, when they’re fucking told.

  I take a step toward her. This time, she doesn’t scurry away from me. “I don’t give a fuck what you like or don’t like, Keira. If you want me to protect you even a little, you will start to listen to me. Now, put your fucking shoes on before I drag you out of here barefoot.” She visibly gulps, but doesn't say anything. In fact, for fucking once, she listens.

  We drive back to the club in silence. I watch her out the corner of my eye and can tell she’s nervous by the way she fidgets with her hands in her lap.

  A tiny smirk pulls at my lips. At least she's not as terrified as yesterday. I ponder if that's a good or bad thing. Part of me knows she would be better off being scared of me—like the rest of the people in my life.

  The neon lettering of the Night Shift sign comes into view, and I tell myself I need to leave all my personal shit at the door. This is my place of business, and that’s all it can be. People need to view me as the boss and nothing else. Weakness is not an emotion I can afford to show—not for anyone.

  “Why a strip club?” she asks, breaking the silence as I pull into my parking spot. What a dumb question. Why not a strip club? What else would I open up? A fucking bakery? I ignore her question and cut the engine.

  “Listen up, doll. We’re going to go in there, and you’re to follow behind me like I have a fucking leash around your neck. If you don’t, I might actually put one on you. You are not to talk to anyone. Don’t even make eye contact with anyone too long. Then you’re going to sit on the couch in my office and look pretty. Don’t fucking talk to me, and don’t fucking talk to anyone who comes in to do business with me. You got all that?”

  Her brown orbs blaze with fire.

  Her anger makes my cock hard. I want to see her angry more.

  She opens her perfect mouth to say something, but stops when I hold my finger to her plump lips. “I give an order…you do it! Nod if you got it.”

  She nods slightly, her lips trembling. There's still heat simmering in her eyes, but it's significantly diminished.

  I turn, dismissing her, and get out of the car, waiting for her to climb out so I can lock it. Without looking back, I march through the back door and walk my usual round through the club. I know Keira is directly behind me, following like a lost puppy. I can feel people staring at us. They're probably wondering who she is and why the fuck she’s following me around.

  When they figure it out, maybe they can let me know. I don't even know why I still have her here with me.

  When we finally get to my office, she sags down onto the couch and looks up at me with her beautiful brown eyes.

  She looks a little pale. Her eyes are tired, and the way she's laying against the leather couch, she appears worn out. Suddenly, I wonder if she’s had anything to eat all day.

  “Have you eaten?” I huff. I’m still not used to caring for anyone but myself, so it seems strange to ask such a question.

  “You told me not to touch anything.”

  My face falls, and fills with shock. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

  I pick up the phone and call the bar. Candy answers on the second ring, her sultry voice filling the receiver. “Night Shift.”

  “Candy, bring us some food…whatever the fuck the special is, and a beer. I need a fucking beer.” My eyes lift to Keira. “Maybe bring Kiera a drink too. Whatever fucking girls drink.” I slam the phone down, ending the call before she can respond.

  My eyes find Keira's. Seeing her pale skin angers me so much. Why the fuck wouldn't she eat? Why wait until she’s sick?

  I shove the thoughts away before I blow my top, and busy myself with looking at pictures of possible new girls, but my eyes keep wandering back to Keira sitting on the couch like she’s at the dentist’s office waiting to be seen. Wearing yoga pants, sneakers, and a baggy white shirt, she couldn't look any more out of place—yet she still looks hot as fuck.

  I don't understand my infatuation with her. She makes my blood run hot. Her inability to listen turns me on more than I care to admit.

  A knock sounds against the door, and a moment later, Candy walks in, bringing us our food. She sets a bottle of my favorite beer in front of me and hands Keira some light pink colored drink with a little umbrella on the rim.

  “I’m not old enough to drink,” Keira says after Candy leaves. It reminds me that I don’t know anything about her—let alone her age.

  “How old are?”

  “I just turned eighteen.” Well, at least she’s legal.

  “How old are you?” Her question takes me by surprise. I can’t remember the last time anybody asked me such a mundane question.

  “Twenty-two.” I know I shouldn't have answered. The twinkle appearing in her eyes tells me she's eager to learn more about me, and I don’t want her to ask any more prying questions.

  “How long have you owned this place?”

  Exactly what I didn’t want to happen. More questions. I don't want her knowing more about me than she needs to.

  “Enough questions. Eat. In silence.”

  Candy comes back a few minutes later to take our plates, and replaces my empty beer bottle with another.

  Keira hasn't touched her drink, but her hands are wrapped around the glass like she's considering it.

  “Dave is at the bar waiting for you to call him in,” Candy announces, an unsure look on her face.

  “Send him in.”

  Candy nods and leaves the office.

  My gaze swings to Keira. “Remember what I said. Keep your mouth shut,” I warn and watch her take her first sip of the pink drink.

  A knock sounds on the door, and I call for him to enter. Dave walks in, his eyes going straight to Keira.

  “Oooh, who is this? New girl?” The grin on his face tells me he's more than interested, and I don't like it—not one fucking bit. His eyes roam up and down her body, and images of me bashing his head into the side of my desk immediately enter my mind.

  “Don’t mind her. She’s my new secretary. Getting her a tiny little desk for the corner soon,” I mutter through a clenched jaw.

  When his eyes continue to linger on her petite frame and heart-shaped face, I almost lose it. “Sit your fucking ass down and quit staring at her. You came here for business, not to eye-fuck my secretary.”

  Dave pales at my sudden outburst and sits in the chair in front of my desk without another glance at her.

  “Tell me about business.” I place my feet on the edge of the desk and listen to him drone on about how much he’s been selling, in what areas, the new guys he hired, and how the cops got one of our guys in custody but he isn’t talking.

  The entire time he's speaking, my eyes wander to Keira. She’s been silently taking small sips of her girly drink, her plump lips puckered around her straw. My dick is harder than hell.

  “All right, that will be all,” I interrupt. I stopped listening minutes ago, too enamored with Keira’s lips around that damn fucking straw. Does she even realize what she’s doing? Probably not, but I don't care. She can play innocent all she wants. I’ll be the judge of how truly innocent she is.

  “Out!” I yell when Dave doesn't move fast enough. He scurries out of my office, and I watch Keira take the last sip of her drink. She puts the empty glass down on a little side table next to the couch and looks at me with glassy eyes. Is she tipsy from one drink?


  “How long has Dave been working for you?” Her stupid question only adds fuel to my fire—the inferno already burning out of control inside me.

  I get up and step around my desk. Keira’s eyes go wide when I stop in front of her and she sees the bulge in my pants.

  “Get up!” I order. I’m so fucking tired of her questions. They're intrusive and unnecessary. She doesn't need to get to know me. She needs to learn to listen, to bend to my will—or I may just fucking break her.

  She hesitates again, and I grab her by her silky, brown hair, my fingers digging into her scalp as I pull her to her feet. Her eyes, her lips, her body—all of it draws me in, begging me for things I'm not even sure it knows it wants.

  A shriek of pain rips from her throat, and I shut her up with a searing kiss. Her hands land on my chest. I loosen my hold on her hair and pull her against me. I’m sure she’s going to push me away, but she shocks me and grips my shirt, holding me close while I devour those sweet lips.

  Our lips still locked, I manage to pull her to the couch, settling her on my lap. My hand grips her head, tilting it back, giving me access to her neck. I see her pulse throb, and I press a kiss to it. My lips roam over the sensitive flesh, and I use my free hand to move her hips, grinding her into my cock.

  “My offer still stands. Sex and I’ll protect you.” I murmur into her ear, releasing my hold on her hair so she can look at me. Her eyes fill with confusion.

  “Last night…you said…”

  She tries to stand, but I hold her down, pushing her ass onto my hard length, letting her feel how much I want her. Knowing I could have her if I really wanted to, but that I won’t, is driving me insane.

  “Last night, I was drunk and high. I say a lot of shit I don’t mean when I’m high. Now, what’s it going to be? You going to spread those sweet legs for me willingly, or do you want your legs spread by someone else?”