Chapter 30-y
I turned my head and saw Ono, appearing right behind that asshole bodyguard and I knew he was going to fix this.
Anger was etched into his face as he spun the man to face him, forcing him to release his hold on my arms.
Ono reared back and head butted the man. Using both hands, he dragged him farther away from me.
I gasped when I saw him punch the guard, blocking the man’s attempts at retaliation. He pushed him to the floor and proceeded to kick him in the stomach before shoving him down the stairs.
“Who the fuck told you, you could put your filthy fucking paws on my wife ?” Ono roared and hit him again.
“Boss! Boss, I got this,” Gio said, grabbing the now moaning and bleeding man.
He hauled him to his feet and shoved him in the back seat of the idling SUV that was causing a minor traffic jam.
“I don’t want to see that fucking shithead again,” Ono barked.
“Yes, Boss,” Gio said, dipping his chin and not looking at me at all.
Probably smart.
I cleared my throat, trying to ignore the tremor of awareness slithering through my body.
I didn’t know what it was about all that violence that had me so hot and bothered, but I had no doubt my panties were fucking soaked at Ono’s barbaric display.
It was sick. There was clearly something wrong with me.
“What was all that?” I asked, looking at my husband and wondering if I even knew the man at all.
“He touched you,” he replied between gritted teeth.
Like that was a reasonable answer.
I had no rebuttal, I just let Ono pull me inside the house with one hand wrapped around my elbow.
“Ono, you can’t just beat people up for touching me,” I said, finally finding my voice.
He didn’t bother to reply.
Just shrugged out of his coat and moved behind me to take mine off.
I allowed it at first, still trying to process all of whatever the hell that was.
Then I remembered myself.
“Wait a second,” I said, watching in shock as he huffed a sigh and went to the kitchen to grab the glass container of orange juice from the fridge.
He took a long pull from the bottle, and I stared, wondering why the fuck that was so sexy.
“Am I a prisoner here?” I asked.
“What?”
He faced me then, his expression a mix of confusion and disbelief.
Juice droplets clung to his firm lips, and I really wanted to go to him and lick them off.
But I needed some answers because what just happened was a lot.
I should have been horrified. I should have run from him.
But honestly, all I wanted to do was climb him like one of those spiderweb things they always seemed to have at city playgrounds.
I used to love those when I was a kid.
“No, you’re not a prisoner, Doc. But you can’t just leave without telling me first.”
“I have to ask permission?”
I slapped my hands on my hips, drawing his attention to the fact I was wearing a pair of black leggings and a tank top with a brightly colored, loose-knit crocheted sweater that showed off glimpses of skin and the tight fabric I wore beneath it.
His gaze heated, and my pussy contracted in response.
But I was not about to go there until we cleared this all up.
Who the fuck does this man think he is?
“I’m your husband,” Ono answered the question I didn’t even realize I’d asked out loud.
I shook my head.
“Then be my husband, but I don’t want a jailer!” I yelled, losing my temper.
“Goddamn it! I am trying to protect you, Michelle?—”
I flinched. He hardly ever used my name, and, in that moment, I felt it slap across my skin sharper than any hands could.
“No. You have a problem, you talk to me about it. You don’t do whatever this is,” I said, shaking my head and grabbing my coat to shrug it back on.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving.”
“No! Stop!” Ono yelled, slamming the glass carafe on the granite counter and smashing it into a thousand pieces.
The sound was loud, and my mouth dropped open. The scent of orange juice was strong and sweet.
He clearly had not meant to do that, but once again, the violence of it all had me soaking my panties.
My eyes went right to his hands, making sure he didn’t cut himself as he cursed and grabbed a dish towel, tossing it over the mess.
So fucking hot.
There was something really wrong with me. But I wasn’t going to look into that just now.
“I’m sorry. Please, Michelle, don’t go. I can’t live without you,” he begged, dragging me to him.
“Ono,” I murmured, clutching at him.
“Don’t leave me, Baby. Please, don’t go. I couldn’t stand it if you left,” he mumbled, holding my face between his hands.
“I-I wasn’t leaving you. I was just going to get some air.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry. I fucked up. I know. The guard was there to keep you safe. I just lost my shit when I saw him touch you.”
“I’m not mad about that,” I told him, needing to be honest.
“You’re not?”
“No. I mean, he was doing what you said, but he was clearly doing it wrong. I’ve been around protective men before. I mean Micky’s whole family is like that. But none of them would allow a security guard to touch their wives.”
“So, you’re not mad about that?”
“No.”
And I wasn’t. Seriously. Fuck that guy for grabbing me like that.
“Then why are you trying to leave me?”
“What? I wasn’t leaving you.”
“I assumed he was stopping you from leaving?—”
“Um, no. He was stopping me from going shopping. And not for nothing, but I didn’t expect him to be there. You didn’t tell me about having a bodyguard in front of the house, and that is not okay.”
“That fucking jerk. Shit. No, you’re right. I should have told you. It’s my job to keep you safe, and I fucked up.”
“Ono, I can keep me safe. I just want us to be honest with each other,” I said, allowing him to pull me away from the front door.
“Okay. I can do that. Let me do that.”
Emotions were still running high, but I wasn’t ready for this time with him to be over.
He took my coat once again and led me to the sofa. I watched him sit down and bit my lip when he pulled me onto his lap.
He breathed deep, like he was trying to get as much as my scent into his nostrils as possible.
I sighed against him, liking how small I felt, how precious, cradled in the warm safety of my husband’s embrace.
We sat in silence for a few minutes, just absorbing one another, and for the first time all day, I felt settled.
“Okay, in the spirit of honesty, there are some things we need to talk about,” he said, lifting my face, so I was looking at him.
“Okay,” I replied, nodding and showing him I was ready for this.
No, I had no idea what he was about to say.
But I wanted this marriage to be real. I wanted it to work, and to do that we needed to start treating each other as partners.
Partners listened.
They helped.
They didn’t act like brats or barbarians. I laughed, thinking that was exactly how we both just acted, but that was over now.
I wanted to listen, to be a real wife to him.
“Talk to me,” I whispered, holding his cheeks and pressing my forehead to his.
He was so damn handsome, and he felt so good beneath my fingertips. My heart was beating double time.
The air felt heavy. Like even the atmosphere knew this was important.
“Baby, I’m so sorry I brought this to your door,” he told me, and I could see his apology and his anger shining in his deep blue eyes.
I knew instinctively the latter wasn’t directed at me, and I hurt for him. For his suffering. I didn’t want him to be upset. Wished I could save him from it, the same way he’d rescued me too many times to count.
From loneliness.
From myself.
From being hurt.
And scared.
I ran my hands up his arms, over his chest, feeling the muscles ripple beneath his clothes. I settled them on his shoulders, massaging him gently, waiting for him to continue.
“The first night we met, when I, uh, got creative with your back door, somebody tried to take me out,” he said gruffly, and my whole body shivered.
I couldn’t stand to think of a world without Ono in it. My chest squeezed and I could hardly breathe. My stomach flipped and nausea rose in my throat.
No, I didn’t want to think about that at all.
“Easy, I’m alright. You saved me, Doc,” he murmured, kissing my temple before returning to his story.
“The guys after me were low-level puppets. Guys connected to my father. But someone was pulling their strings.”
“Don’t you know who it is?”
“No, but I knew who they hired. And I took care of them. But this goes deeper. They targeted me and missed. After that, they hit my business. Several times now, actually. Then they went too far. Now, they made it personal. They declared war.”
“Why now?” I asked, brows furrowed as I pondered his serious expression.
“Because now they targeted you.”