5. The Agreement
five
The Agreement
After a mildly better night’s sleep, Mikey was back to his usual routine the next morning and busy filtering reports from the overnight crews by the time the Security Solutions staff started wandering in. It hadn’t been as busy a night, which meant the task was easier, but he was still finishing it up when a chime went off on his phone. A text. Mikey pulled his attention away and lifted the device, realizing it was one of the receptionists who’d messaged him.
He frowned at the message, though the content itself was straightforward enough. The woman—civilian employee—was letting him know she was concerned about Brandi; that Brandi hadn’t stopped to talk. She didn’t give an explanation.
This is becoming a pattern. Mikey put the phone down and called up the elevator feed, hoping to catch her live.
She was wearing a long-sleeved dress, her hair was loose and down, and her head was turned away from the camera. It looked like she still had her sunglasses on. She had her purse, but there was also a large rolling suitcase pulled up tight at her side. She was right there, yet he couldn’t really see her properly. If he hadn’t watched the previous days’ footage so obsessively, he might not have understood how odd her choice of stance was this morning. To say nothing for the suitcase, and atypical attire.
Something was absolutely wrong.
Mikey closed out of the feed and strode from his office, knowing the elevator would dock before he made it to the far end of the hall. She’d shown up, so logically she was either going to her desk or coming to him. He just felt compelled to make sure. He’d told her specifically to call if her mysterious problem got worse.
“—okay, Brandi?” Berto was asking as Mikey rounded the corner.
“Fine,” Brandi replied almost curtly. She came to an abrupt stop, however, when Mikey appeared in front of her.
Mikey felt a little derailed, too. For an instant startled into silence as he took in the bruises still visible on her face, the lower edges of circles under her eyes that her sunglasses didn’t obscure, and the faint tremor in her grip over the suitcase. The shock settled quickly into a seething rage he wasn’t sure he kept from his voice and he pivoted to the side, sweeping his arm out. “My office. Now.” He shifted his gaze to Berto. “Don’t bother me.”
Berto’s eyes widened for a beat, but he nodded sharply. “Yes, sir.”
Miguel wasn’t in yet, for what that was worth, and Mikey held the door open for her before throwing the lock and tapping the hidden trigger to darken the windows. Whatever conversation they were going to have, witnesses didn’t need to be a thing.
Brandi let her suitcase rest behind one of the chairs that faced his desk and released a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry for coming in like this,” she said quietly. “I … couldn’t call. And I’m afraid my email might not be secure.”
Mikey held his breath and counted to ten before letting himself speak. “What happened?” He gestured to her, finding himself unreasonably tempted to pull the sunglasses away from her face. “Who the fuck did this to you? Why couldn’t you call?”
Slowly, Brandi lowered her purse to the same chair and reached up, removing her sunglasses. She tucked them into the side of the bag, making sure they didn’t fall inside, and faced him. She looked like she’d been put through the ringer. Both her eyes were black, smaller bruises darkened the back of her jaw on both sides, and half her face was swollen from her nose down her cheek to her jaw.
That was just what he could see.
Mikey stepped closer without thinking. “Brandi. Tell me what fucking happened.”
She rolled her lips between her teeth for a moment, sucked in a breath, and said, “I still don’t know his name, or the name of the employer he supposedly works for. This man just … he’s just started letting himself into my condo in the middle of the night. He shuts down my security system somehow, then turns it back on when he leaves.”
“The man with the ripped earlobe?” He recalled her asking about someone the day before. He regretted not pushing her on that, more than he could have imagined.
She nodded slowly, as though the motion hurt.
Mikey swept his gaze over her. “How else has he hurt you?”
Brandi wordlessly pushed up the sleeves of her plain dress, revealing bruises on her wrists. “He hit me the one time Monday night,” she whispered, “then knocked me unconscious. It freaked me out real bad, but as far as I can tell he didn’t do anything while I was out of it.” She swallowed again. “Last night, he was pissed that I’d ditched him and he hadn’t known what I was doing. He thought I’d gone to the cops. So he was worse, and he made it clear tonight will … be worse than that.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “If I do nothing, he’s going to rape me. He might kill me when he never gets what he says he’s after. I can’t—”
Mikey cursed under his breath and, careful to avoid her bruise, caught her forearm and guided her to the sofa. He mostly kept it for when he was too tired from long nights to function without a power nap, but it was a sofa. It worked for sitting. She didn’t fight him. “Let’s back up for a second,” he managed to say. “What do you mean, ditch?”
She wiped at her face gingerly. “He’s been stalking me,” she said.
“What?”
Brandi nodded. “I first remember noticing someone following me about … a week and a half ago. I had no clue who it was, didn’t recognize the SUV, but they didn’t stop.” She drew a steadying breath. “The first time I saw him was Monday night. That was the first time he broke into my condo, that I know of.”
The erratic driving behavior from Monday and the rushed walking, hurrying to lock her doors behind her. All of it made sense. Fuck. He wanted to demand to know why she hadn’t said anything, but he bit the question back. It was unreasonable. He knew why. He wouldn’t have told her if their positions had been reversed. The logic did surprisingly little to soothe his anger.
“Do you know what he’s after? Is he stalking you purely to torment you?” If it were the latter, they could handle that tonight. She wouldn’t love the method, but it’d be done before the sun came up and a bad memory by the time the workday was done.
Frustration furrowed her brow. “He’s definitely getting off on it,” she said with a curl of her lips. “But he claims my father owes his employer money, and his employer is particular—they won’t take anyone else’s money. They want my father to pay his own debts. Which is super great, except for the part about how they’re willing to beat the shit out of me to shake it out of him.”
Mikey frowned. “Have you talked to your father?”
Brandi met his stare, her brows not moving properly over her swollen lids. “About repaying a debt? Seriously? If he hasn’t already, he doesn’t intend to. The last time I tried badgering him about paying something he owed he hit me so hard I blacked out. And when I came to, he said he’d be happy to pay that debt in my honor—but only with my life insurance payout.” She dropped her gaze to her lap. “The thing about my father is, nothing is more important to him than money in his pocket. He tends to view gambling as the possibility to gain a lot more with an impractically small investment, and that’s how his problem started. You’re smart. You know where it’s ended up.”
Mikey leaned back for a moment, needing to breathe through the intensity of his anger. He flexed his fists over his knees. “Do you have any idea who it is that’s trying to use you to pressure him now?”
“None.” Brandi traced the tips of her fingers over the edge of the smaller wrist bruise. “He’s not local,” she said. “He has some kind of accent I’m not familiar with.” She shrugged, then winced.
Mikey grunted, finding his brain hardly able to focus on the useful information. All he wanted to do was figure out a way to erase her pain.
“Oh,” she said, as if having a thought. “I don’t think he knows who you are.” She raised her gaze to him again, guilt mixing in the brown. “I had to tell him who picked me up after I lost my car, and when I said I’d called my boss he called you Michelle .”
Mikey’s lip curled on reflex. It was hardly the first time he’d heard that, sometimes from a genuine misunderstanding and often from a kid who thought they could bully him.
“Hopefully he won’t try to bother any of you. I downplayed it as much as I could.” She dragged in a breath. “I know it’s bad form, and I hate to do it, but I have to leave.”
Mikey blinked, refocusing, and found she’d shifted her stare outward in the direction of her suitcase. Of course. She was running.
“I can’t just let him do what he wants, and I know my father would….” She trailed off and fidgeted with her sleeves, rolling them back into place as if suddenly self-conscious. “If I tried to push, he’d probably shove me into my sluttiest dress and slather me in makeup and hand me over as some kind of bribe. He’s not going to save me. He’s never saved me from anything.”
I’m going to fucking kill her father. But he suspected the intensity of his anger wasn’t immediately meant for Wesley Richardson, so he kept the thought to himself. Although when he told Dante about this, he firmly believed his elder brother would jump on board.
Mikey reached out as Brandi made to stand and pressed his fingers to her shoulder just firmly enough to get her attention and keep her seated. “Wait.”
She blinked over at him, obviously surprised.
He looked into her eyes, taking in the surrounding bruises as much as the fear and the underlying determination. The woman he’d come to know was still there, she was only ducking back into a protective shell in the interest of survival. He couldn’t hold that against her. But he wouldn’t let her ruin her life because she’d been trapped with a piece of shit for a father, either. Not when he suddenly saw another way out. “There’s a way you can stay.”
Her lips pursed together briefly. “I’m not willing to go through that.”
“I would never ask you to.”
Brandi shook her head briefly. “How else would that work? That man, he’s … he won’t stop.”
“You said he doesn’t know who I am?” He waited for her to incline her head before continuing. “Then he’s ignorant enough not to know what matters. That’s fine. You stay by staying close to me.” He’d catch an earful for this later, but he couldn’t let her run. He couldn’t let her disappear. She was too valuable.
Her eyes widened. “You want me to, what, move in with you?”
He let his lips lift in a smirk, reached out, and curved his fingers around hers. “Close. I want you to marry me.”
Brandi stared at him. After several seconds, she pulled her hand from his and twisted her shoulders enough to face him more head-on. “Sorry, what?”
Mikey found himself fighting the urge to touch her again, but he kept his hands to himself and said, “You’ll be free from your father the moment you take my name. And if the fucker who hurt you comes after you again, or if his employer sends someone new, they’ll learn fast what the name De Salvo means.” He motioned toward the far wall, in the vague direction of the office area she shared with Miguel. “In the meantime, you’ll get a self-contained office and more challenging jobs. You won’t have to run or look over your shoulder.”
She frowned at him. “No one gives a lifetime of protection for free. What would be expected of me, exactly?”
“You’ll live with me,” he confirmed. His home was far too big for one person, they could avoid each other for days if they chose. “You’ll take my name, and you’ll stand with me during necessary family events. Public appearances, anywhere paparazzi are more than likely. You’ll be family, it would be appreciated but not mandatory if you come to private family events.” He saw her brow dip as much as the swelling allowed, and he knew what she thought he was avoiding. “I’m not the kind of man who puts hands on a woman who isn’t interested. You could live on the opposite side of the property if you choose, the public doesn’t have to know.”
She said nothing for several more seconds. He waited for her to process. Finally, she asked, “What do you get out of this?” A choked, clearly bitter laugh escaped her and she reached up, prodding at her more swollen cheek. “A trophy wife?”
His lips lifted a little easier. “You try being the only unmarried sibling in a family-focused family. It’s obnoxious. So yes, I get a wife. I get someone to share meals with and keep me company.”
“And if I choose to live on the opposite side of your mansion?”
He snorted at her choice of words. “How about this. Commit to me for one year, and if all your problems are solved and you want out, I’ll let you out. You can walk with one hundred percent of everything you have to your name today and fifty percent of everything we, as a married couple, brought in during the year we were husband and wife.”
She studied him. “And if I stay?”
“Then you stay.” He held her stare. “Understand, I will insist on fidelity. If you find someone you can’t live without, our arrangement has to end first.”
“Can I expect fidelity in return?”
“Should I put that in the contract?”
“You said you wouldn’t force me.”
“I won’t, ever.” He kept his voice even and didn’t blink at the sign of discomfort in her eyes. “Nor will I look outside the marriage for satisfaction. I don’t ask for what I won’t offer, Brandi.”
She dragged in a breath, her gaze finally breaking from his and darting again to her waiting suitcase. “Fifty percent of whatever we bring in in the next year, or year and a half or however long it takes, is a hell of a paycheck.”
His lips twitched. “Yes, it is.” His brother was going to smack him upside the head for that offer. “And how long it will take will depend on what you need. We can marry this afternoon, wait to arrange a full formal wedding ceremony, or anywhere in between. One year of marriage starts the day we sign the papers.”
Her head whipped back around to him and she winced again, lifting a hand to cradle her temple. She pulled herself together after only a second and said, “I am not taking wedding photos looking like this. At least give me a couple days for the swelling to go down.”
He arched a brow. “So you agree?”
A flush stained her cheeks. “I’ll sign a contract that states what we’ve talked about.”
Good enough. Mikey nodded and stood, moving to scoop his phone off the desk. “We’ll hold off on the papers for a few days, but you should move in this afternoon. Unless you’d rather I spend the next few nights at your condominium?”
Her flush darkened. “Your place sounds bigger. And it won’t … feel like him.”
That was one way to remind him why he was doing this. Mikey slipped his phone into a pocket, popped down her suitcase’s telescoping handle, and held a hand out to her. “I’ll take you there, you can work remotely today. I’ll set you up. Is there anything else at your condo you want before I draft the paperwork?”
Brandi stared at his hand for a long second before allowing him to help her up. “Probably. I just threw a few days’ worth of clothes and my electronics in the suitcase because I knew it would be too obvious if I tried hauling more out the door.” She worried her lips briefly. “I don’t know if he’ll be watching the condo or the office, or if he’s off terrorizing other women when he thinks I’m working.”
Mikey tugged her to him, keeping his hand on hers, and stared down into her widened eyes. “He won’t be terrorizing anyone much longer. This is the last time I want you worrying about him.” He forced himself to release her, reached back, and handed over her purse. “When you’re ready.”
He watched her swallow before grabbing up the sunglasses, sliding them over her face carefully, and shouldering her purse once more. “As I’ll ever be.” She didn’t even question his holding of her suitcase, and he worried what that really said for the injuries he couldn’t see. He didn’t ask, just lifted it from the floor by the side handle and led the way out of the office.
As they passed Berto’s desk, Mikey snapped, “I’ll be out for a while.”
“Sure thing.”
When they were in the elevator, Mikey set down the suitcase and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Do you want me to call someone for you while I’m away?”
Brandi shifted her weight. “What?”
“A driver,” he clarified.
“Oh. No, thank you. I don’t want to go anywhere looking like this if I don’t have to.”
Mikey paused, his thumb hovering over a key, and offered her a frown. “Call me if you change your mind later.” He finished his text to Dante and tucked the phone away. The elevator released them and Mikey led them out to his car, opening the passenger door for her before placing her suitcase in the trunk. He walked around to the driver’s side and ducked in without looking toward the street, but the temptation was there. He made a mental note to ask for more details about her assailant when she seemed more up to it.
Holy fuck. The thought kept playing on repeat in her mind as they drove, and only got louder when she laid eyes on Mikey’s honest-to-God mansion.
She hadn’t gotten much sleep the previous night. Between the pain of her injuries, the outrage, and the fear, she couldn’t relax enough to truly drift off. Every time she had caught herself nodding away, she’d jerked upright again and sent a fresh wave of pain coursing through her body. If she’d grabbed a cumulative hour she would have been surprised. But she hadn’t just sat on her bed crying, either. She’d put it to use, making plans and pulling things together once she could get her body to move.
The only thing she had been able to think was that she needed to get away. She couldn’t let that asshole get his hands on her again, and she knew full well her father wouldn’t help her. She couldn’t call in sick to work—or she would have—and she didn’t trust that her emails were safe. So she’d opted to take an Uber he would expect to see to work, then a second if she couldn’t bum a ride altogether to get to the bus station. She had really been hoping for a ride, if only to save money. The cash she kept tucked away in her condo wouldn’t get her far.
She hadn’t expected Mikey De Salvo to propose marriage . She never would have expected such a thing.
Sure, it hadn’t been the Hollywood romantic proposal most girls dream about with rose petals, flickering candles, and instrumental music in the background. There was no bended knee, no heart-melting words, no sparkly diamond that could simply never reflect the shine of love in his eyes. None of that.
It was so painfully straightforward and business-like it was still very much surreal, even as Mikey coasted into a garage big enough for half her condo. But in truth, Brandi wasn’t sure she’d ever wanted that flowery, over-the-top sickly sweet kind of romantic gesture. The one thing she had craved most in her life, for as long as she could remember, was safety. Comfort was nice. Reliability was a bonus, to be sure. Safety was first.
Mikey could give her that.
That was why she’d agreed. Maybe, over time, she would come to yearn for the comfort that currently seemed so less important. Then she’d re-evaluate.
Brandi was barely on her feet as Mikey came around to her side of the car, her suitcase in hand again. She was moving so much slower thanks to the pain. The ibuprofen had probably worn off, in fact. That explained why her head felt worse. She doubted anything was broken, but she had so many bruises and more than a few tender spots. To say nothing for the veritable stab wound on her thigh that she’d patched together with butterfly stitches and a large band-aid.
“Come on,” Mikey said, guiding her into the building. “I’ll show you the spare office and we’ll get you access to the network. My chef’s not due in until four, but help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I’ll let the staff know you’re here so there won’t be an issue. Any door that’s unlocked is fair game, I can give you a better tour later.”
Her eyes darted back and forth across each space as he led her through the halls. Holy fuck.
“Brandi?”
She stopped and looked forward again, belatedly realizing her sunglasses were still on her face. She reached up and pulled them off, this time tucking them away. “Sorry. Did you say something?”
Amusement teased the edges of his lips and she hated that she liked the way it looked on him. “Just making sure you were paying attention. Here.” He pushed open a door to an under- furnished office space with a beautiful desk and a floor-to-ceiling built-in bookcase, as well as a full window wall obscured by semi-sheer drapery. “Do whatever you want with the space, this office will be yours.” He set her suitcase down beside a plush loveseat. “Furniture can be changed out, too.”
“This is more than enough for now,” she said, stepping up and trailing her fingers over the desk. She smiled easier than she had all day. “Can I work from here from now on?”
He chuckled. “No. But I’ll allow it while you’re recovering.”
She supposed that was something, at least.
“Where’s your phone?”
Brandi looked up, blinking at him. He was watching her patiently and she realized with a start that she hadn’t told him that detail. She blew out a breath and walked around to the sofa, letting herself sink into the cushion nearest her suitcase and dropping the purse to the floor. “Shattered and in the garbage back at the condo. My stalker stomped on it before beating me.”
Mikey moved to crouch in front of her. “When you’re up for it, I want as many details as you can give me about him. It doesn’t have to be today.”
Her throat constricted, but she wasn’t really surprised by the ask, so she nodded slowly. Then she pointed to the suitcase. “My laptop’s inside. If you don’t mind. Honestly, I hurt all over and that thing’s heavier than I should have made it.” She’d crammed as much as she could into it, thinking it was all she’d have left in the world by nightfall.
Mikey nodded, stood, and hauled the suitcase onto the desk. “Let’s set you up.”