Frivolous: A DARK MAFIA AGE-GAP ROMANCE

by Veronica Lancet

  He drags me closer to his body, his arms coming to rest around me as he nestles me to his chest. He lays his chin on top of my head, his touch healing and comforting.

  "Thank you," I whisper.

  "Sleep. I've got you."

  And for the first time, I do sleep. In spite of the loud rain hitting the windows, or the howling wind screeching in the distance. I hear the thunder, but I'm no longer afraid.

  Because I'm enveloped in a searing heat, with big, strong arms wrapped around me and keeping me away from harm.

  I am at peace.

  But why does it feel like life as I used to know it is all but gone?

  I feel his warmth seep into my skin. And as I slowly come to, I realize this might be the best sleep I've had in... forever. My eyes snap open and he's right there, next to me, his gaze boring into mine with an intensity that leaves me breathless.

  The morning sounds envelop the room, birds chirping, people moving around the house and shouting random things.

  "You're so fucking beautiful, sunshine," he brushes his thumb across my cheek, his voice thick and full of emotion as he looks at me like he's never seen me before.

  I can't help but blush at his words, especially since I know I must not look that great this early in the morning.

  "I should go," I whisper, although I'm not making any effort to move.

  "You should," he agrees, though his hand comes to rest in my hair, his fingers twirling some strands around.

  "I can't if you don't let go," I say softly when I see he has no intention of letting me up.

  "I don't know if I want to," the corners of his mouth curl up. "When are you going to be so pliant in my arms again?"

  "Maybe if you behave yourself..." I trail off, running my fingers down his naked chest.

  There are a myriad of scars there too, and I can only assume they are from his time in the army. I still hadn't had the courage to ask more about that, mostly because we've just started to become more open with each other. I don't want to ask the wrong question and have him push me away.

  That smirk of his makes another appearance, his hands dropping to my waist as he pulls me on top of him, his mouth fitted to mine in a heated kiss.

  "I have to get ready for the gala tonight," I blurt out, breathless and a little overwhelmed.

  "I know," he replies, his lips trailing kisses all over my chin and down my neck, "and I also know there will be other men sniffing around you," he rasps before closing his mouth over the spot right above my clavicle, sucking on the skin.

  I gasp, realizing what he's trying to do.

  "Bass," I push at his shoulders.

  He doesn't let go, sucking until I know all the blood's already rushed to the surface.

  "There you go," he gives the mark another long lick, "now any bastard who looks your way will know you're claimed."

  "What? You..." I shake my head, scandalized.

  Before I know it, though, he wraps his fingers around my jaw, holding me tight and bringing me into him.

  His eyes look unyielding as he stares at me.

  "I meant what I said, Gianna. You belong to me now. And I don't share," he states in a deadpan voice. "If I see another man so much as lay a finger on you, I'm going to kill them and I'm going to make you watch," his tone is chilling, and the more I study his face for any sign he's joking, I realize he's not—he's serious.

  "You're crazy."

  "Yes, you got that right. You've seen me kill before." His other hand is trailing down my back, the tips of his fingers slowly brushing along my spine and making me shiver in response. "I do it very easily. And I will kill anyone who even dares to look the wrong way at you."

  "You can't just..."

  "Yes. I can, and I will," he leans in, his teeth catching my lower lip as he gives it a soft bite. "Now run along before I lose all my control," he grits, resting his forehead on mine.

  One look at his strained features and I realize he's telling the truth. Especially as I'm sitting on top of the very hard evidence of his feeble control.

  I scramble to my feet, and with one last look at him, I dash back to my room.

  The rest of the day is a flurry of activities as I'm rushed from make-up, to hair, to getting one last fit for my gown.

  Unlike the other events I'd attended in the past, for this one I'll be accompanied by my father and Cosima, and I've already had strict instructions to behave myself so that it looks like we are all one happy family.

  I have to give it to Cosima. She hadn't gone to rat me out to my father, and I think I have Bass to thank for that.

  It's no secret that he terrifies her. Every time she sees him around the house she turns sharply on her heel, pretending she has business somewhere else. And I, of course, can't help but gloat at the fact.

  No one's ever defended me before, and the rush I'd felt when Bass had stood up for me had been like no other. It would be so easy to get used to it—to him. To know I have a strong protector ready to have my back at any point could get addictive. And that's a problem. Especially since I know whatever we have going on right now can't last.

  I've caught myself a few times when my thoughts had veered in that direction, because I hadn't wanted to mar this small amount of happiness that I have for the first time in my life. Still, I've always been a realist. And while my thing with Bass may bring me joy and make me feel unlike ever before, I know it has an expiration date.

  Until my marriage.

  And because of that, I aim to make the best out of it. I will try to put my fears aside and focus on what is in front of me—on him.

  Certainly, it doesn't seem as hard as I would have thought. His touch doesn't scare me. The potential for more doesn't terrify me as it should.

  It just... leaves me breathless.

  Sometimes I have a hard time identifying the emotions he awakens in me. So used I've become to terror and anxiety taking over my body, that at first, I'd become scared I may be getting an attack. It had taken me a while to realize that my physical reaction was not one of dread, but of excitement.

  Simmering low in my belly, they can feel the same, but they are not.

  He makes me feel like my body is my own again.

  And that's probably the most precious gift.

  I thought I'd lost myself that night two years ago. Since then I've felt like drowning, struggling in a turbulent sea with a few gasps of air here and there. I'd never thought I would make it to the shore. I never thought I would breathe again.

  But Bass' arrival in my life has shown me that my body is still capable of desire—much as I fought it in the beginning. It's still capable of feeling.

  Adding the last touches to my outfit, I head down.

  Bass is already in the background, watching closely. The moment I step in his field of view, though, I feel his eyes on me as they rake over every inch of my body.

  I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about him when I chose this outfit. I'd wanted to get exactly that reaction out of him.

  His eyes slightly widen, his mouth semi-parted as he continues to peruse the way the dress hugs my curves, the tight fit emphasizing my body's shape.

  He likes what he sees.

  My eyes meet his across the room and a slow, sensuous smile appears on his face as he drinks me in, not at all shy about checking me out in front of my father.

  "There you are, Gianna," my father purses his lips, barely looking at me, his eyes on his watch as he goes on and on about being late.

  Cosima gives me a scowl, but as I raise an eyebrow at her, calling Bass over to my side, she turns away with a huff, her arm hooked through my father's elbow as they walk ahead.

  And as we step outside the house, two limos are waiting for us, and a few other cars with guards to follow behind. Undoubtedly, Cosima hadn't wanted to share a space with me and she'd asked my father for separate rides. Normally, I would have thrown a fit just to make her uncomfortable and to ensure she's not getting away with her plan. But as it stands, spendin
g some extra time with Bass alone will help me settle my nerves.

  "Are you ok?" He asks me when we're finally alone in the car and heading towards the Met where the gala is being held.

  "Yes," I nod. "I took a pill before I left. It should help me get through the night."

  "I'll be your shadow at all times. You have nothing to worry about," he squeezes my hand, before tugging me to his side of the limo.

  I stumble, rather awkwardly, falling to his lap.

  "What are you doing?" I push at his shoulder, amused. "I can't get my dress wrinkled. Or my makeup ruined," I say with a pout.

  "I know," he tips my chin up, his eyes boldly staring into mine. "That doesn't mean I can't do something else," he trails his finger down my neck, lingering over the spot he'd sucked on earlier this morning.

  "You covered it up," he rasps, his breath against my skin. "What did I tell you, sunshine?" he nuzzles his face against my throat, the gesture gentle but the threat in his voice is unmistakable.

  "What...did you tell me?" I ask breathlessly, lost in the sensation of his warm lips on my skin.

  "Those posh bastards need to see you're marked," he continues, opening his mouth and trailing wet kisses down the column on my neck.

  "I couldn't... my father would have seen," I try to reason with him.

  No matter how much I'd liked having his mark on me, I couldn't risk it. Especially at such a public event where it will only serve to fuel the gossip about me.

  "But that's just the thing. The entire world needs to know you're off limits. That you're taken..." he trails off as he reaches my cleavage.

  The dress has a square cut cleavage, the tight bodice making my boobs pop.

  His hands on my ribcage, he leans forward and wraps his mouth on top of the swell of one breast, licking the skin languidly before sucking in.

  "Bass, stop it!" I give him a playful punch.

  I was serious that I can't be seen with a hickey on—not today.

  "No," he speaks against me, his hot breath blowing on my skin and making me shiver.

  There's already a tingling in my lower region, and as much as I try to not react, I can't help the moan that escapes me when he starts making love to my breasts with his mouth.

  "Bass," I whimper, my hands going to his hair.

  He keeps on sucking and licking, concentrating only on the visible areas.

  My nipples are already hard, my entire body convulsing with need. And as his hands travel up and down my dress in a slow caress, I'm one second away from asking him to put me out of my misery.

  My body remembers the pleasure he'd given me the other night, and it wants a repeat.

  "There you go," he whispers in that thick voice of his as he raises his eyes to meet mine. "Now everyone will know," he continues, lifting one finger and bringing him to my breast, tracing the red mark he'd put on me.

  "You're an asshole," I mumble, half-annoyed, half too turned on to mind it.

  "I know," he smirks. "And you love it," he winks.

  Just as I'm about to reply, the car draws to a stop, having reached the destination.

  I quickly try to compose myself before getting out and joining my father. Bass follows quietly behind, promptly putting his serious persona on as he assumes his bodyguard stance.

  The Met is teeming with people, all invited for an exclusive charity gala in the form of an auction.

  A few rooms on the first floor, in the Greek and Roman galleries, are open to the guests to mingle. The entire atmosphere is intoxicating as I walk around the many statues, the high ceiling and splendid lighting of the room providing an authentic ancient feel.

  It's a pity that I have to interact with all the people my father keeps on throwing my way, otherwise I would have enjoyed the gala much more.

  Cosima quickly finds her circle of friends, or at least people she wished she could be friends with, trying to pepper them with fake praises in hopes she could get an invitation at their next afternoon tea.

  My father, on the other hand, seems to have an exclusive agenda for tonight's event—and it's not bidding on priceless artifacts.

  He zeroes in on some men, bringing me along as he attempts to sway the conversation to my failed engagement and the fact that I'm back on the marriage mart.

  "This is Mr. Collins, Mr. Edwards and Mr. Lovell," my father does some quick introductions before he jumps back to extolling my virtues.

  I keep a stiff smile on, even though hearing him talk about me as if it's the nineteenth century is enough to send me in a fit.

  I keep my back straight, my posture excellent as I pretend to listen to the conversation, nodding every now and then.

  "Your daughter is exquisite. I fail to imagine anyone would say no to her," one of the men comments, his eyes moving suggestively over my body. I keep myself from shuddering in disgust, instead trying to look for Bass from the corner of my eye.

  He's right by a Bernini sculpture depicting Bacchus. And just like the God of wine, he's holding a plate of grapes in his hand, slowly bringing the fruit to his mouth in a sensual move.

  It's... decadent.

  His eyes are fixed on me as he opens his mouth to swallow one grape, that simple act making me swallow in return.

  "Gianna?" My father's voice startles me.

  "Yes, sorry I was woolgathering," I give them a pleasant smile, even though inside I'm all but cursing them and their lecherous gazes.

  "If you'll excuse me, I'll go grab some refreshments," I say as I leave the conversation.

  One of the men, Mr. Collins, I think, decides to offer his services and accompany me.

  I walk stiffly by his side, trying to keep a distance so we're not touching, even though I can see that's all he's trying to do.

  "Thank you, but it wasn't necessary to come with me," I tell him, hoping he'd take the hint and leave me alone.

  "A pretty girl like you always needs a knight in shining armor," he says in what he wants to come across as a seductive tone, but only makes me want to gag.

  "Right," I add drily, "I think there are enough armors in here. I don't need another one."

  If he's not going to take the hint then I'm going to be a little more direct. I know my father all but gave them the green signal to me when he jumped into his rehearsed monologue for tonight, but I'm not about to let him parade me around for everyone to cop a feel—like this guy is clearly trying to do.

  I increase my pace, hoping to get rid of him by simply losing him in the crowd.

  "Be a good girl and don't shout," he says and I frown for a moment before he roughly pushes me to the right, my back quickly hitting a wall. Everyone around is too busy to realize he's basically dragged me to a dark corner.

  His hand is on my mouth before I can even attempt to call out for Bass.

  "Your father owes me, Gianna. A few millions. It's not enough that I'd..." his eyes trail down my body and he snarls as he focuses on the mark Bass had put on me, "marry you. But who said you're not good for a few minutes of fun. If you're a good girl, I might wipe his slate clean," he drawls, right before his hand goes for the opening of my dress.

  My eyes widen in terror as I realize what he's trying to do, and it takes me a moment to get my bearings and try to defend myself.

  But as the mental fog lifts from my mind and I start to act rationally again, I realize I don't need to do anything.

  Not when Bass is twisting the man's hand until I hear bones cracking. Certainly not as he brings him to his knees, continuing to contort his arm until the man is yelping in pain.

  Hand over his mouth, he doesn't allow him even the smallest sound.

  "Are you ok?" He looks at me, taking in my terrified expression.

  I slowly nod, surprised I'm capable of reacting at all.

  "Good," he grunts. "I told you I'd have to kill anyone who touched you, sunshine. And it seems I have my first victim," his mouth twists in a cruel smile.

  Before I know it, his hand makes contact with the side of Mr. Collins' f
ace, pushing it all the way to the ground, his cheek hitting the marble floor.

  "You touched what's mine," Bass leans in to whisper. "No one touches what's mine," he says right before he lifts his face a little, gaining some momentum to slam it again onto the floor.

  Mr. Collins' eyes are wide, both fear and pain in his gaze as he flails his arms around in an attempt to get himself out of Bass' hold.

  But he stands no chance. Not when he's not even half his size.

  Bass continues to bash his head against the floor until the man passes out from pain. Instead of letting him go, though, he lifts him up by his throat, his body limp in his hands.

  A loud snap, and Mr. Collins' head falls, bent at an awkward angle.

  "You..." I blink. "You actually killed him," I whisper as I take a step back.

  "Of course I did," he smiles at me. "I don't make empty promises, sunshine."

  He drops the body to the floor, taking a step towards me.

  "Are you afraid?" He raises an eyebrow.

  My eyes go from him to the body on the floor and back to him, a sense of terror enveloping me but also one of satisfaction.

  Because he saved me.

  He's the only one who's ever saved me.

  I shake my head vehemently.

  "No. He wasn't going to let me go. I'm glad you stopped him. Before..."

  In two steps he's in front of me, his big body pushing me into the wall and caging me with his huge arms.

  "You're mine, little one," he says in a husky voice, his breath coming in short spurts—from the adrenaline of the kill no doubt.

  Because I know he enjoyed it. I saw the way his mouth curled up in satisfaction at the sound of bones snapping. I'd seen it before too. When he'd dispatched the robber.

  He likes killing.

  "I know these motherfuckers want you. You're too perfect for this world, and every fucking man wants to touch you," he brings the back of his hand to my cheek, "feel how soft your skin is, how sweet your lips taste." His lips hover on top of mine, close, but not touching.

  "And that's why you have me, sunshine. Because I'm capable of killing them all," he all but growls in my ear. "I'm the only man for you because only I can protect you. And because of that, only I get to touch you."