12. Angelo
12
ANGELO
“ J esus,” I whisper against the soft curve of Blake’s neck. Her silky hair tickles my cheek and I’m breathing so hard, it feels like I just ran a marathon. Placing a kiss on her collarbone, I roll off her before I smother her and go take care of the condom.
Halfway to the trash can, a few things occur to me, hitting me like a bolt of lightning out of the blue. First off, that was some of the best sex I’ve ever had. I can’t remember the last time I came so hard. Second, I really really want to get to know Blake better. Normally, I can easily walk away after sleeping with a woman, but I’m not ready to do that. In fact, I downright refuse. And, lastly, that beautiful woman just gave me her virginity and I fucked her on the couch. I really need to up my game because she deserves so much better.
After tossing the condom, I head back over to her and see she’s already covered herself with a blanket. But I can still see the outline of her luscious curves and my dick stirs. Wow, that was fast. Clearly, someone is gearing up for round two. I don’t want to hurt her, though, because she has to be sore. Hang in there, buddy, because we will definitely be going back for seconds. And third and fourths, if I have anything to say about it.
First, though, I need to make sure she’s okay. “Blake?” Her amazing aqua eyes lift to meet mine and a shyness washes over her. God, she’s adorable. “Are you okay?”
She gives me a nod and I sit down beside her.
“Sorry. I probably should’ve taken you up to my bed, but I lost control faster than usual.”
“Do you usually bring women up here?” she asks, keeping her tone light, as though she expects me to say yes.
“No. I’ve never brought anyone here before.”
“Hmm.”
The look on her face can only be described as skeptical and I don’t like it. I don’t want her to think that I’m lying to her.
“It’s the truth. This has always been my private getaway. Kind of like a sanctuary where I can come to clear my head and relax. My siblings are the only ones who know about this place.”
Sitting down beside her, I tug the edge of the blanket up, slip beneath it and cozy up beside her, wrapping my arm around her. I love the soft, warm feel of her skin against mine and once she curls up against me, I drop a kiss on her bare shoulder.
“I’m glad you finally told me your real name. It fits you.”
She tilts her head back, looking up at me. “How so?”
“It’s a strong name and you are a very strong woman.”
“If you only knew,” she whispers.
I wait for her to continue, surprised by her statement, but she remains quiet. “Knew what? You can tell me anything. It won’t leave these walls. This truly is a safe place. I promise.”
She seems to consider my words then gives me a sad smile. The vulnerability that flits through her eyes is damn near heartbreaking.
“I wasn’t always so tough. It’s something I had to learn growing up.”
“Did you have a rough childhood?”
She nods and, to my utter surprise and delight, continues talking. “My dad left after my mom told him she was pregnant. She was only sixteen and her parents were upset and kicked her out of the house. Mom died when I was only five and I got stuck in the foster care system. It was a pretty scary place for a little girl to be.”
“Shit, I’m so sorry.” I think back over my childhood and it was the best. Practically perfect. My parents loved me and my siblings more than anything despite our tendency to get into all kinds of shenanigans. I remember running wild outside through the vineyard, plucking grapes off the vines and eating them. We would play games together as a family and, no matter what, we always had each other’s backs. Imagining this amazing woman being a scared, little girl makes my heart clench.
“I got bounced around a lot. Never really knew what it was like to have a family of my own, but I made it. I was always determined to survive and I did.”
“You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met, la mia farfalla. I’m in awe.”
“Maybe that’s why I’m such a loner now,” she muses. “Not having anyone to depend on or turn to…I don’t know. It hardens a person.”
“You might be tough, but you’re not hard. I’ve seen your soft, vulnerable side.”
“I try not to be,” she admits quietly. “Being vulnerable never helped a situation and, in order to survive, I had to put up walls and grow thick skin.”
I can’t imagine what she must have experienced growing up, but now I better understand why she is the way she is. “How many foster homes did you go through?” I ask, dreading the answer.
“I ran away from my last one when I was seventeen. After twelve years in the system and going through maybe four or five homes a year…” Her voice trails off. “I don’t know, sixty different placements or so?”
“Jesus,” I whisper, tightening my arms around her. “And none of them were good?”
She shook her head. “Not to me. The places I went just wanted another kid in the house so the state would give them more money. They were supposed to use that money to buy food and stuff, but I can’t tell you how many nights I went to bed hungry, my stomach growling.”
A fierce protectiveness swells up inside me and all I want to do is comfort this beautiful, scarred soul cuddled up against me. I can’t begin to imagine the hell she went through—something no child should ever have to deal with—and I reach over to lift her chin up and kiss her tenderly. After a few seconds, I pull back, wanting to keep talking before things escalate.
Insane. For the first time in my life, I want to get to know a woman better and sit here and talk rather than have sex. Who am I?
Then a horrible thought occurs to me.
“Did anyone ever hurt you physically?” I ask, searching her pretty eyes.
“I got hit a few times, sure, but nothing too awful or that I couldn’t handle. And, of course, there were some creeps who tried to sneak into my bedroom at night, but I got smart. If they started looking at me funny, I’d wedge a chair under the door knob. I always shared a room with other kids and sometimes we’d move the dresser in front of the door, too. Just as an extra precaution. I never wanted to wake up to a late night visitor in my bed and I always slept with one eye open. It’s probably why I don’t need much sleep now.”
Because she’s always on the alert, ready to bolt if a threat appears. My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. I hate that. “Blake, I need you to know you’re completely safe here and you can sleep comfortably without any fear. You can trust me. And if you want your own bedroom, there are plenty. Take your pick.”
“Thank you. No one’s ever been so sweet to me. But, I like being close to you, Angelo. You make me feel secure.” She curls up in a ball, pressing close to my chest.
Mine.
The thought consumes me, and I tighten my arms around her even more and lower my chin on top of her head. The woman in my arms absolutely amazes me and I will do anything to keep her safe. Above all, I hope that I can earn her trust. It’s not something she gives out lightly. Hell, I’m not sure there’s even one person in her world she fully trusts—but, I vow that person is going to be me.
Everything about her makes so much sense now. Her solitary job, the way she keeps a shield around herself, refusing to get close to people, how she uses a fake name. My poor butterfly has been hurt one too many times, but now she has me. My family and I will make sure she’s protected and get to the bottom of what’s going on.
After resting a little bit, we both realize we’re starving. Running for your life works up quite an appetite and, after getting dressed, we head into the kitchen area.
“How good of a cook are you?” I ask her.
“If it’s not microwaveable, I don’t touch it,” she tells me with a lopsided smile.
I chuckle. “Well, shit, we might be in trouble then.” I start scavenging through my cupboards and it’s been a while since I’ve been up here. Still though, I like to keep the pantry stocked with a few non-perishables. We end up finding an unopened box of crackers, a carton of macaroni and cheese and a can of chicken noodle soup. Not the greatest combination and I’m debating whether or not to drive into town when she pulls out a couple of pots and a can opener.
“This is fine,” she tells me. “I used to live on this stuff.”
She holds up the box of mac and cheese and shakes it. That’s going to change, I tell myself. I plan to take her out to fancy restaurants and feed her gourmet meals until she’s ready to burst. My gaze moves down her body. She’s too thin. It definitely wouldn’t hurt for her to put on a few more pounds.
“For now, I guess. We can go to the grocery store later and stock up. I’ll make you some lasagna and cannoli.”
“You’re so very Italian,” she teases.
“Hell, yes, I am. And damn proud of it.”
We start working on the food and settle into a comfortable routine.
“So, you’re close to your siblings and parents?” she asks, stirring the noodles in the the boiling water.
“We’re very close. My parents live in Sicily, but we visit a lot and spend Christmas there every year.”
“That’s nice.” I can’t miss the wistful tone in her voice and it hits me hard that the one thing I’ve always had, that I’ve taken for granted—a family who loves me—is the one thing she wants.
Then the craziest thought flits through my head—I can give her that. My family is big and if Blake and I have a relationship, a marriage, children, then I could gift her what her heart has always yearned to have.
Hell, that’s a heavy thought and I’m not sure if I’m even ready for any of that. Or, maybe I am. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so restless lately. Because I know one thing for sure—when I’m with Blake, all those restless feelings go away. She fills something up inside of me and makes me curious about what it would be like to actually settle down one day.
Damn, where are all of these crazy thoughts coming from? My attention settles on the woman stirring everything up inside me, making it feel like my emotions are in a blender. I barely know her, but she’s making me want things. Things I’ve always avoided and never thought would be mine.
Now, though, I’m not so sure.
“What’s your full name?” I ask as I set the table. My question makes her freeze and she stops stirring the noodles in the boiling water.
“Blake Serrano,” she finally says and my damn heart nearly explodes with happiness. By telling me something so personal, I know she must trust me and that makes me a really happy man.
“Got a middle name?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I honestly don’t know. There wasn’t a middle name on my birth certificate and, if my mom gave me one, I can’t remember.”
A fierce sadness washes over me and I set the fork down and walk over to her, slipping my arms around her waist, turning her to face me. “I’m Angelo Carlo Rossi and I think if you had a middle name, it would definitely be butterfly, but in Italian. You’re Blake Farfalla Serrano.”
“That’s kind of pretty.”
“It’s a beautiful name for an ever more beautiful woman.” I lower my head and capture her lips in a kiss. I’m not planning on it to turn so passionate so fast, but the moment her mouth opens, I slide my tongue past her lips and deepen the kiss. She moans into my mouth, crushing her breasts against my chest, and it’s nearly my undoing.
My dick comes alive, pressing painfully against my zipper, and I grab Blake and lift her up onto the cool granite countertop. Her legs wrap around my waist and I pull her to the edge, grinding against her center, right where she needs. Her nails dig into my skin and she rubs against me, tilting her body slightly.
She starts whimpering and I think she might be close when my damn phone starts ringing. “Fuck,” I hiss and pull back.
“Nooo,” she moans, refusing to let go.
“It’s probably Miceli. I need to get it.” I drop a quick kiss on her lips and notice the water boiling over in the pot. “Uh, and you might want to grab that.”
“Oh, shit!” she exclaims and hops off the counter.
With a chuckle, I swipe my phone up and see it is my older brother. “Hey, Miceli,” I answer. “What’s going on?”
“Hey, Ang. A couple of things. I found out a little more about Carmine Gallo. He arrived in town about a month ago and it sounds like he’s interested in taking over as much here as he can. He’s been inquiring about our family and the other mafia families. From what I’m hearing, it sounds like he wants to take over the Five Families alliance. Or, possibly crush it by stirring up trouble.”
“Great,” I grumble, watching as Blake adds the packet of orange powdered cheese. So disgusting, yet so good.
“I also got in touch with Archer,” he says.
“Really?” We both know that’s not an easy thing to do. Archer is like a ghost, a shadow who is hard to track down. He’s an old informant of Miceli’s who’s very well-connected. My brother thinks he might be former military and maybe he was even part of a secret ghost ops team. But, he’s such a mystery and we don’t even know his full name. Hell, Archer may not even be his real name.
“Yeah, he’s going to find out who put the target on you two and why. In the meantime, hang tight and lay low up there. You’re safe.”
“Thanks, bro.”
“Any time. I’ll be in touch.”
I hang up and realize how lucky I am to have a family who has my back and loves me unconditionally. Any one of them would jump in front of a bullet for me and I’d do the exact same without thinking twice. A wave of empathy pours through me as I watch Blake spooning the mac and cheese into two bowls for us. She’s never known that kind of support, loyalty or unconditional love.
I want to change that.