Chapter 21
Montrell brushed Beatrice’s hair back from her face. Her nose crinkled in the most adorable way before she pushed it against his neck. She really was asleep.
Or passed out from pleasure. The thought didn’t calm his erection any, but that didn’t matter. She’d completely given up control to him. His beard was still damp with the proof of it.
He tried not to think too hard about his discovery. His body would never calm down then. A little G-spot stimulation had led to wonderful things.
He knew what toy to get her next.
Goddammit, he was still tipsy. It had made him ruthless and demanding. He’d wanted to give her three orgasms, one more than last time, but he’d exhausted her.
The door to the kitchen swung open.
Montrell’s hand moved to her skirt, but he’d already smoothed it over the top of her thighs. She was decent.
He still flushed at Giulia’s knowing look. Her head tilted as she studied them together. “I said for you to talk, but it looks like using that mouth of yours paid off anyway.”
“Giulia!” Montrell hissed, tensing as Beatrice’s head bobbed against his chest. His other hand held her to him a little tighter.
Giulia smirked. “Don’t be a prude. I was the one who gave you the sex talk.”
Montrell didn’t feel any better for the reminder. “This was your fault, giving me the wine.” He winced, already feeling a slight headache. “I didn’t expect you to listen to us.”
Her smile softened. “I didn’t. I sat in the car for a bit.”
The heat in Montrell’s cheeks still didn’t go away. He was again glad for his beard. Which smelled of her. And fuck, that was one reason he still wasn’t softening. “Have the car brought around?” he asked.
Giulia nodded. “But we’ll go out the back. Your hands are too full to help me carry the leftovers.”
Beatrice had expected him to fuck her tonight. Maybe she had wanted it. Maybe not. But no way was he going to tear into her without lube.
No, when he made love to her, he’d prove all over again that it didn’t have to bring any pain.
Carrying her in his arms was no hardship. It made him realize the truth of what he had said earlier. She’d lost weight over the last five years. When she was standing in those heels and taking up all the air in the room, he forgot she was only a slip of a thing.
At least she was big enough to hide his erection as he carried her to the car.
He felt way too much as he cuddled her on his lap on the ride home. Her breathing was deep and even. She really must feel safe with him.
Giulia sat across from them, the leftovers warming her lap as she stared out the window.
“You never told her anything about your mother, did you?” she asked quietly.
Montrell swallowed, pulling Beatrice a little tighter against his neck. “It’s in the past.” Her warm breath fluttered over his skin. “She heard our conversation earlier.”
Giulia let out a soft snort. “Of course she did. That one is sharp. She knows information is currency, and she isn’t above eavesdropping.” Her eyes shifted to his wife. “I like that about her.”
“You do?” Montrell was happy. Giulia’s blessing meant a lot.
Giulia looked out the window again. “If you’re surprised she listened in, it just means you’ve been around Vespa too much. Vespa and you are honest and straightforward.” Her hands tightened around the containers in her lap as the car pulled up the drive. “It’ll be good for you to have someone who will complement that.”
Montrell nodded. “She’s so much more than I remembered. I’m a lucky son of a bitch.”
Giulia was back to glaring at him. “She’s lucky to have you too. Don’t let Maeve into your head.” Her expression smoothed. “It sounds like you’re smitten with your wife. That’s good.”
Montrell ran a hand along Beatrice’s back. “I’m hers. For as long as she’ll have me.”
“Always putting yourself last.” Giulia shook her head, but her smile finally appeared, soft and loving, so different from the mother he had known. “I’ll be there for you if she decides to break your heart.”
She slipped out of the car first.
Montrell carried Beatrice inside. He should have returned her to her room—she’d be most comfortable there—but he couldn’t quite make himself do it.
He cuddled her in his arms on his bed instead, just as they were. They’d fallen asleep together the night before. He wanted that again. And he did sleep.
When she stirred against his chest sometime in the middle of the night, his eyes cracked open. Beatrice stretched along his body, which was all sorts of enticing. Her legs extended to entangle with his.
“Brought me here to fuck me?” she murmured, her voice muffled as she rubbed her face against his chest. Her mouth cracked open in a yawn as her eyes closed again.
Beatrice remained relaxed and loose. Montrell was the one who tensed.
“Am I getting you addicted to orgasms, then?” he asked, his hands drifting along her back in a circular caress.
Damned if she didn’t let out one of those happy giggles. “Maybe. But mostly I’m worried that you’re never going to, you know, consummate this marriage.”
“I will make love to you. That’s a promise.” He leaned down, kissing her nose, which crinkled. “Just not tonight. I’ve already wrung you dry.” Her eyes lifted to meet his, and he kissed her gently again, this time on her mouth. “And I loved it. Don’t think I didn’t.”
“So that wasn’t you holding back?” she searched his face.
“I didn’t cut loose enough for you?” He lifted an eyebrow.
Her skin flushed with the prettiest of tints when she got turned on. It was visible even in the dim room.
“No. It was…” She swallowed but didn’t try to pick up the train of thought. Her body slipped to the side, curling into his warmth. She rested her head on his chest again. Then she lifted her arm, staring at her scar.
He hadn’t forgotten. “Do you want me to replace the bracelets?” he offered. He might have been angry, but he’d also been honest. She wasn’t wearing anything the Albanian had bought her ever again.
“I’m not sure.” She let her arm lower until it rested over and around his stomach. “We talked about me tonight, but I had other topics in mind.”
“You can ask me anything. Is this about something else Giulia said?” Montrell tried to think back to earlier in the day, but most of it was a blur of words.
“She said you have a savior complex.” Beatrice’s fingers flexed against his side. “Is it true? Am I one in a line of women you’ve saved?”
“What?” Montrell sat up too suddenly, accidentally dumping her onto the bed. He waited for her to sit up beside him before he gently took her chin, searching her eyes. “Is that what you think?”
She looked so damn remote again. “It doesn’t make sense,” she whispered.
He released her to brush her hair behind her ear. “I don’t understand. What doesn’t make sense?”
“I don’t meet your needs.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she glared as she rushed on. “You admitted you’re holding back. I’m the one always taking.”
Montrell made a sound in his throat. He hated the way she looked when she said that. “It’s not a hardship. I get off on giving.”
“Exactly. You’re used to it. And it’s obvious you, well…” She frowned down at her hand, which was clenched around the comforter.
“Well, what?” he asked.
Her tone dropped. “You’re good at it.”
It was no surprise he wanted her again. He always wanted her. His hands shook from the need to reach out and clamp her against him. She’d admitted she enjoyed it, even if it was in a roundabout way.
He wanted to give her the opportunity to enjoy it again.
She licked her lips, and he held in a groan. “I mean,” she continued, “you’re practiced at it. Experienced.”
“Are you jealous?” Heat rushed through him as his body vibrated.
“I’m not!” Beatrice was back to looking exasperated. Then she bit that gorgeous lip. “It’s not about you; it’s about me. I don’t want to be one of many.”
“There’s no one like you, Bea.” His hands found her waist, wanting to pull her against him. He didn’t. Instead he dipped his head to catch her gaze when it would have skittered away. “There’s been no one since you.”
“What?” Her eyes widened as they latched onto his.
“There hasn’t.” It wasn’t that Montrell didn’t enjoy sex. He loved it and had had plenty of it before the engagement. After, he had always pictured her when someone came onto him, and that wouldn’t have been fair to them.
“But you said you have a high libido.”
He laughed. “And my hand services it well.” He leaned forward. She was the one vibrating now; his hands could feel it. “I always imagine you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the ear he’d exposed earlier when he’d brushed her hair back.
The way she shuddered nearly wrecked him.
He forced himself to pull back. Seeing her flushed face was worth it.
“I know I’ve told you that before. I’m almost too quick in the shower with you as the fantasy. And before you get ideas, it’s been more than satisfying for five years. I can handle waiting.”
Her mouth parted in what he imagined was a pant. Her tongue darted over her bottom lip again, not helping to cool his libido. “Can I watch?” she asked.
He almost creamed his pants. “Fuck, Bea,” he breathed out. His hands pulled her closer, until her knees hit his and he forced himself to stop. “Just imagining you watching me got me close.” He closed his eyes, but that made the image worse. Now he was the one panting. “Talk,” he forced out. “You said you wanted to talk. Stop distracting me.”
He loved her naughty giggle. “Am I distracting?”
His eyes opened, and he couldn’t keep himself from tasting her smile. It was a mistake. His lips clung to hers like a drowning man to the shore, and all he wanted was to devour her all over again.
He pulled back instead, resting his forehead against hers and brushing her nose with his. “You’re not one of many. Do you believe me?”
“Yes.” Her smile had faded, though. Her breath seemed to tremble as she pulled it in. “But you are trying to fix me, aren’t you?”
“No.” When she would have protested, he gave her a firm kiss. “Let me finish. You’re not broken, Bea.” When she would have pulled away, he held tight. “You’re not! Broken is like cracked. Flawed. You were hurt. God, were you hurt, and I want to be a safe place where you can heal from those injuries, but you are in no way flawed.” His hand lifted to her hair, and he let his fingers sift through the silky strands as he held her eyes, willing her to believe him.
“I’m not who I used to be.”
“Of course not. But, Bea…” He sighed. “Time changes everyone. Don’t tell me I’m exactly how I was five years ago.” He grimaced as he pulled back. “I was a cocky bastard back then.”
Her laugh was soft this time. “Cocky, that much is true, but never mean. I liked your confidence, even if you were a bit full of yourself.”
“It was all a front. I was the most insecure man around.” He sighed, his hand tightening in her hair. “My insecurity led to all this.”
“No,” Beatrice said, and her hand reached for him, cupping his cheek. “It played a part, but there were other parts being played. I don’t want you to feel guilty.” The way her eyes traced his face, like she was memorizing it, made his chest squeeze. “You’re saving me, Montrell.”
He hated the frown that returned to her brow. While he was debating whether to kiss her or push her back on the bed, she was busy thinking.
“You have a savior complex. But to call it a complex, there has to be more than just me.” And her eyes were searching.
Montrell sighed. “My mother.”
Her eyes widened.
“But don’t think you’re a stand-in for her. I don’t want to fuck my mother.” His words startled another small laugh out of her.
He wondered if his heart would ever stop noting each one, even after they became common again.
“I should hope not,” she was saying.
He stopped trying to resist and pulled her against him, laying them back down on the bed. “You should get comfortable. Talking about this might take some time.”
He hated dredging up the past, but her snuggling against his chest was the perfect reward.
He talked to her about it. About how, if Giulia hadn’t been around, he probably would have died before he was old enough to understand. His mother wasn’t very maternal. Her anger had been more volatile than even his father’s.
“She broke my arm the first time when I was four,” he murmured. “But I expected it.”
Beatrice’s arm tightened around his side. “Expected it?”
“I wasn’t the brightest kid, but I’d found the pattern. It was obvious, even at four. Whatever my father did to her, she did to me. It took longer than she wanted to break my arm, since one of hers was in a sling. It hurt her, but she was determined.”
Beatrice’s breath wobbled on her exhale.
“Don’t judge her too harshly. She was dealing with her own pain the only way she had found would help.”
“How can you not be angry?”
His shrug shifted her away slightly, but he held her tight. “Giulia says it was brainwashing. Every day, my mother blamed me for her circumstances, and I believed it. I still kind of do, though I know better. She blamed me for being stuck with my father, even though she was stuck before I ever came. But you understand arranged marriages.”
“I’m surprised you wanted one.”
“I wanted power, and that was one thing an arranged marriage would give. I had just finally killed my father and needed to consolidate fast.” He placed a kiss on her head. “But your father knew that and wasn’t impressed. Honestly, it made sense he didn’t want me for you, but I had already been dazzled by you, too dazzled to see it.”
“We’re not talking about me,” she mumbled, pressing her face tighter into his neck.
“True enough. We’re talking about my mother, who should have never had kids but, luckily, only had one.”
“The Albanian wanted children,” Beatrice admitted.
He liked that she was calling the bastard that. She was steadily taking back the title of husband from that monster.
“You would be a good mother,” Montrell murmured.
She shook her head against him. “I was scared I wouldn’t be.”
“You would be,” he said again.
“I didn’t want them. Not his. Never getting pregnant was God’s answer to my prayers, and I’m so grateful, even if he did get angry every time I had a period. I wasn’t always regular, and he would hope. That made the next time even worse.”
Montrell massaged her back. He would never not want his turn killing her husband.
“It’s not like he wasn’t trying to get me pregnant. And he wouldn’t allow me to go on birth control. That might mean…” Beatrice swallowed. “I might have fertility issues.”
“Do you want kids?” Montrell asked.
Her nails were really digging in now. “You do. Don’t you?”
“I’d be a good father.” He continued trying to soothe her. “But don’t worry about me. I asked what you wanted.”
The silence drew out. “I might not mind a baby gorilla,” she said.
Montrell choked on a laugh and pulled her closer.
“Not that it’s an issue. You’d have to come inside me first.” Her hand slid over his shoulder, distracting him. A moment later, her fingers were caressing the back of his neck, sending tingles everywhere. “You are going to do that eventually, aren’t you?” she asked.
Montrell had to clear his throat. “Don’t doubt it.”
“And you, stop deflecting. We’re supposed to be talking about your bitch of a mother who, for some reason, you wanted to save.”
Montrell wasn’t offended. He liked the protective note in her voice. Even though he didn’t hold a grudge against his mother, he didn’t expect other people to understand. That was one reason he didn’t talk about it often.
So he skimmed over most of his childhood. He’d gotten lucky. His father often beat his mother, but he rarely broke her bones. She continued to dole out similar punishments to him, even after he was big enough to defend himself.
“Things changed for my mother when I turned eighteen. I was busy learning the business, had become part of the crew for one of the capos. Similar to how I am now, I was big and brawny, though a tad lighter, and I didn’t look all that young. The family was able to use me, so I was gone too often for my mother to hit me.” He swallowed. “So she tried to find relief another way.”
Beatrice’s fingers paused on his neck.
“We don’t need to talk about this, but it changed me. Giulia said she wasn’t serious, that it was just to get me to act. I’m not sure, but it’s true it set things in motion.”
“Your mother tried to unalive herself.”
Montrell hesitated, but he wouldn’t lie. Not to Beatrice. Lying was the opposite of protecting her. “Yeah. She waited for my father and me to both be home. She was screaming from her room, and I went in to break things up between them. I’d started doing that once I was heavy enough not to get knocked around. Well, before then, too, but he stopped only when I could make him. It meant I’d get some bruises, but that was an easy price to pay.”
He hadn’t noticed his mother rushing into the bathroom. His focus had been on punching his asshole of a father. He’d have his own black eye, but his father was backing down when her scream drew both their gazes.
Blood rushed down one of her arms. It was Montrell she stared at as she shrieked, “You can’t save me. You can’t even save yourself!”
His father had wiped at his face as his cold eyes watched her slice up her second wrist.
“This is what you want, isn’t it? This is what you both want!”
His father didn’t deny it. He turned and walked away.
It was Montrell who stemmed the bleeding, Giulia who brought the doctor. His mother screamed and cried throughout. Her words were mostly incoherent, but Montrell knew what she had to say already.
She’d said it all along.
He didn’t tell Beatrice all of that. His hand lifted her arm until it hovered above them. His thumb rubbed softly over the raised scar. “Her scars don’t look the same as yours. Not as deep. The pink line on her arm is almost unnoticeable.” He pulled his wife’s arm down and kissed the scar before releasing it.
Beatrice’s fingers resumed their gentle stroking. “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. Your story is different from my mother’s. Had you gone through with it, your reasons would have been different. My mother wanted to hurt me.” He sighed, urging her closer. “It worked. I could only think about killing my father after that. I was desperate to do it. Reckless. Within a month, I had what I thought were enough people. My mother was still recovering, and I promised her she’d never face another day of suffering.”
He shook his head, bumping his chin against hers. “I was an idiot. Luckily, Giulia overheard me. I didn’t suspect a thing. Even bent toward her to make it easier for her to knock me out and lock me up.” He laughed. “She locked up Vespa too. Vespa was spitting mad about it.”
“Giulia stopped you?”
“It was a good thing she did. I was going off half-cocked. All I could picture was my mother telling me I couldn’t save her as she bled. The men I’d gathered weren’t as loyal to me as I thought. They would have shot me alongside my father and called it a good day.”
He remembered how Giulia had lectured him. She’d never screamed. She’d been hard and calm as she’d explained the other men were dead and all anyone knew was that they were acting alone.
“It took seven years for me to gain true loyalty. The men had to see what I could do. What type of boss I would be. And then they stood with me when I killed my father.” He felt calm saying it. That’s how he’d been when he’d pulled the trigger as well. The family was all for picking off their don by that point because, besides being a wife beater, his father was also a terrible leader and businessman.
“My mother had run back to the Irish by then. I went to see her. She was less than grateful I’d killed my father. It made sense. I’d already failed her. Even now she’s bitter and… I don’t know. Not quite right. So, no, I never did save her.” The last part came out as a whisper.
His mother’s words rose in his mind. She had said that he hadn’t killed his father for her. That it didn’t matter anyway. It was too late. She was already dead, she’d told him.
Montrell hoped the Irish were taking care of her. He had sent spies to check, and nothing in the reports made him think otherwise.
“I didn’t save you either,” Montrell said. “The Albanian was dead, and you were shooting his followers.”
“You and Vespa helped. I didn’t think I’d last until morning.” She squirmed to rest more fully on top of him, her arms wrapping around his neck again. “I wouldn’t have made it out of Vegas without you. I’m grateful. It’s true, I wasn’t at the time, but marriage does that to me.” She studied his face. “That you came for me, specifically for me, it means a lot.” She leaned down, and she kissed him.
Neither took the kiss any deeper. It was a brushing of lips, a mixing of breaths. It felt more like a promise than their wedding kiss had.
“Are there any other secrets we need to talk about?” Beatrice asked.
He worked his fingers through her hair, enjoying the way her head shifted against them, seeking more of his touch. “I wasn’t keeping my mother a secret. It’s just hard to bring up.”
“So that’s a no?”
He leaned up and nudged her nose with his. “Yes, that’s a no. I’m not keeping secrets.”
She nodded, lowering to brush his lips with hers again. Her hips arched against him, but Montrell had lost his erection.
Talking about his mother tended to do that.
“Are you going to finally make love to me?” Beatrice asked.
He wrapped his arms around her, rolling them to their sides. She felt perfect curled against him. “I just want to hold you tonight. Can I do that?”
“A repeat of last night, then.” She yawned against his neck. “How married of us.”
He chuckled as her head tucked against his neck.
“You were exhausted earlier, and your body had more than enough.” She didn’t argue with him. Her breathing had already begun to slow. “We’ll get there, Bea. Sleep.”
And he followed her into slumber, feeling strangely empty and full at the same time.