Chapter 3
3
TATUM
“ O h good, you’re awake,” a soft voice says as my eyelids flutter open.
I see Angel hovering next to me, his sweet smile greeting me as I come into consciousness. Like an angelic being come to visit me, shining bright.
“Hi,” he breathes, his hand grasping onto mine gently.
“Hey,” I murmur, and he grabs a cup off the table and helps me take a sip of water. It wets my parched mouth, and I feel the relief of it almost immediately.
“Better?” he asks, and I nod. I still ache, but the medication that they’re surely pumping into me is helping lessen the pain. It makes me feel more like myself. Though I’ll feel more like myself once I’m out of this bed and moving around again.
I usually have endless chaotic energy.
An energy that is being stifled and restrained at the moment.
“Yeah,” I say and sigh, squeezing his hand. “Thank you for saving me. Thought I was a goner there for a second.”
He nods, swallowing, his blue eyes wet. His blond hair, almost as light as mine, covers his head like a halo. In the sunlight that’s shimmering through the cracks of the blinds, he positively glows.
He’s nothing like his father—the man who simmers in the shadows.
Angel takes after his mother, a beautiful woman who I’ve been told died years ago from cancer. I’ve seen pictures of her in the study, and I can see why Anthony went for her. She was truly an angel. Her smile was luminous and she looked like the definition of sweet. Like a flower blooming in a garden on thorns.
“I mean, I didn’t do much. It was all my dad.”
I nod and glance at the empty chair in the corner, wondering if Anthony has sat there again, watching over me while I slept.
I doubt it.
I know that I’ve been nothing but a pest to him over the past several months, poking at him, pushing all his buttons. I know that he’s a dangerous man, but I don’t care about any of that. It’s never deterred me. To me, he’s just a man. A hot one.
One that I have a major crush on.
Even though I know he’ll never reciprocate those feelings.
He’s a straight mob boss with twin sons that are my age. Angel and Diablo.
Diablo , I think with fondness. That little shit.
He’s just as crazy and unhinged as his name suggests—from the saws he carries around with him to the evil gleam in his dark eyes.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Angel says, sniffling. His words pull me back to the present, and I manage a small smile.
“I’m fine. This is the worst I’ve had it, but I’ll make it through. I’m a survivor.”
“Yes. You are.”
“I have many more men to meet. I’m in my prime, Angel. My prime. I can’t die yet. My last fuck cannot be Brayden. I refuse to let it be him.”
His blue gaze meets mine, and he wipes at his eyes. Such a sweet soul. So pure. I don’t know how he managed to be this way when his father is so filled with darkness, a darkness that even I can’t touch.
It’s bone-deep, a part of him. It feels like if I reached out and skirted my hand along it I’d be sucked in.
Oh god, I wouldn’t mind that at all.
“You are. You weren’t ready to go. Not yet.”
“Nope.”
“Brayden has been calling, you know?”
“Has he?” I ask, my heart speeding up.
“My dad saw your phone, kept asking who that was.”
“Did you tell him?”
“No, of course not. I didn’t want Brayden to end up with missing fingernails or even a dick.”
We stare at each other, and my lips twitch into a small smile. Angel isn’t returning the gesture though. His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth.
“What?” I ask. “What’s wrong? You know, besides my face.”
He shakes his head, some of his hair falling onto his forehead. “My dad is…he’s so mad.”
“At me?” I ask, feeling my stomach churn in anxiety. Fuck, I don’t want him mad at me. I know I was an idiot for going to that bar, but honestly, I learned my lesson. I’ll never do it again. I’m not that much of a stupid fuck to go somewhere I know I’m not wanted, especially not back to a place with men who look like they belong in a biker gang.
“No, of course not. He’s mad at those guys who attacked you.” He glances away. “It’s?—”
His voice trails off and he shakes his head once more. He pushes the hair on his forehead back and sighs. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
“It does, please tell me.”
“No, you’re recovering. You don’t need to worry.”
“I mean, I’ll worry if you don’t tell me.”
Angel eyes me, his gaze slightly drawn. “He’s just…been very busy in those sheds of his.”
“Sheds?”
He nods and then turns his gaze away. “It’s not important. I’ve said more than I should have.”
I realize I won’t be able to pry any more information from him. As sweet as he is, he’s stubborn. Something I figure he gets from his father. But, knowing me, I’ll figure it out eventually. When I’m feeling a little better. I’ll have to wait. Not that patience is my best quality. Actually, it’s not a quality I possess.
“You sure you don’t want to tell me?” I ask, trying my luck once more, and Angel purses his lips.
“Yes, I’m sure. You just focus on yourself. That’s all you need to do.”
I sigh and then rub at my sore ribs gently. I glance around the ornate bedroom, the off-white walls, the blue and purple abstract paintings, the marble floors that span the entire space. As nice as this place is, this isn’t where I’m meant to be. I have a life outside of here.
“I really need to get home.”
Angel’s blue eyes widen. “Oh no. You can’t go yet. My dad wants you here.”
“But I have classes, work…my roommates…”
Angel shakes his head determinedly. “We’ve taken care of it. Your roommates think you’ve moved out, and we’ve contacted your professors. What’s more important is that you recover. Right now, we need you safe. Here. With us.”
I don’t understand that. Why the hell would I need to be kept safe? But then again, who knows what Anthony did when he came for me. I have no fucking clue. All I know is I heard gunshots. And screams.
Oh shit.
Oh, fucking shit.
The sheds.
“How many people died?” I rasp, my throat closing up slightly. Angel glances away from me once more and stares out the open window that overlooks the expansive gardens.
“That doesn’t matter.”
It does. It matters. People are no longer alive because of me. Not that they didn’t deserve it. But still. I’ve never been the one at fault.
“Come on, Angel. Tell me.”
“I can’t. And I won’t. It doesn’t help. Knowing never helps.”
I sigh and rub once more at my tender body, the places where their boots kicked with a hatred I didn’t know existed.
“Okay. For now, it’s okay. I’ll let it drop.”
He nods, his lips curling up at the corners. “Thank god. I didn’t want to have to be rude.”
I huff a laugh, wincing when I feel pain lance up my side once more.
Goddamn, my ribs have to be broken. I don’t care what Anthony said before. They hurt like a motherfucker.
“I know it hurts, but I promise they’re not broken. The doc was very thorough,” Angel says, reading my mind.
“Yeah, okay. Whatever you say.”
“Doc is never wrong. He’s been doing this a long time.”
“I dunno, from what I remember, he looked kinda young to me.”
“He is. Young, I mean, but he’s been working on people since he was like twelve. Been doing this a long time. He knows his stuff. He’s a bit of a genius.”
I nod and then lean my head back. The bed I’m lying in is fancy, with an adjustable head. So currently, I’m sitting upright.
So damn convenient.
I need to eventually go home, but when I do, I’m gonna miss this place. I’ve never lived somewhere so nice.
“Want to watch a movie with me?” Angel asks. “I thought you’d have a hard time sitting still and this may help distract you.”
“Yeah, let’s do that.”
He climbs into bed with me, careful of the wires connected to my chest and arms and leans his head on my shoulder. He’s warm and smells like honey.
“So glad you’re okay. Really, Tatum. I was so worried when you didn’t wake up right away.”
“Me too. I’ve never been hurt like this.”
He meets my gaze and presses a tender kiss to my cheek. “You just focus on getting better. That’s all you need to do. We’ll take care of the rest.”
I feel him shift closer to me, and I watch as he turns the TV on.
“How about something really sappy and romantic?” he asks, and despite wanting to roll my eyes, it would hurt too much.
I don’t do romance, don’t quite like it. But I know that Angel does, that he dreams of marrying someone one day, of being loved above all else.
Me, not so much.
I’d settle for unhinged sex against a wall and a quiet escape afterward.
Yeah, romance is not for me.
“Hm, well, Tatum, you seem to be healing really well,” Doc says, his stethoscope perched around his broad shoulders. Like I told Angel yesterday, he’s younger than I expected a mafia doctor to be. Maybe early forties, with a sleek suit and glasses perched on his nose. He could have easily walked off a modeling catalogue.
“Thanks, Doc. Seems to be all your doing,” I say with a small, slightly flirtatious smile.
His eyes flash to mine, and I wink at him. Well, I try to. I don’t know if I succeed. My right eye is still bruised and half shut, the other is okay though. At least half my face looks alright.
I glance the other way and see that Anthony is perched in his chair again, looking murderous. He always looks that way, I guess.
It does things to my libido.
It seems I have a thing for dangerous men.
I look lower and see that his white sleeves are stained red, and I feel my dick jump in my sweatpants.
Seems my libido is very on board with whatever that means.
And it’s really not my fault. He’s sitting there, his thighs spread in those neatly pressed slacks, a tumbler of some kind of liquid in his hand. He looks like sex personified, all dark and angry. I wonder if he fucks like he looks. It would be rough and brutal. My ass would surely take a beating, and I would be so here for it.
My heart rate picks up as I think about it—me, ass up on his bed, just waiting for him to fuck me.
The beeping on the machine ratches up as my mind wanders, and I feel my cheeks heat in recognition.
Doc glances at me, catching where my gaze is, and his lips twitch.
With a quick flick of his wrist, he wrenches the cords off of my chest, making me flinch from the suddenness of it.
“Hm, well, we don’t need these anymore. You’re doing well enough to be without them.”
My gaze moves up to Doc, and I sigh. “Thanks. I feel so much better.”
“Of course you do. I’m a miracle worker. It’s why I’m paid the big bucks,” he winks down at me with a small smile, but the grunt from Anthony has him straightening. “Now, my suggestion would be to get up as often as you can and move around. Even if it’s just a little walk down the hallway, do it. If you can tolerate the pain, you should try and get up as much as possible. It’s never good to sit for too long.”
“Oh yes! I can help with that,” Angel interjects as he floats into the room. He’s wearing flowy satin pants and a button-up shirt. He looks like a flower child born in a different generation. “We can take walks in the garden. It’s beautiful this time of year.”
Anthony’s eyes narrow as he glances at his son. “With protection you can. And you’ll stick to the gardens only, Angelo. No wandering off.”
Angel pauses and cocks his head in confusion. “Of course, Dad. You don’t need to full-name me. I’m always careful. You know that.”
Anthony’s hands clench the arms of the chair, and he nods, pushing himself upright and fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt.
“I’ll assign Casey to you both.”
Angel huffs a small laugh and then walks over to his dad, pulling him into a hug. I can see the reluctance in Anthony for just a second before he wraps his arms around his son.
“I want nothing but for you both to be safe,” he says softly, his eyes moving up to meet mine. A challenge, I suppose.
I do love those.
“We will. I promise. I’ll take good care of him,” Angel says.
I just watch the transaction unfold, the love they both have for each other. When Angel moves toward my bed and wiggles his way inside, I see Anthony’s eyes shutter, any emotion he’s feeling suddenly shut off. What’s left is a blank slate.
“I’ll leave you both to it,” he says with a curt nod.
He moves past us, his gaze settled on me for just a moment, and then he’s gone.
“Well, he seemed upset,” Angel says as he snuggles into me, his head resting on my shoulder, a position we’ve grown quite used to. “He’s been in a mood though.”
My heart rate increases. “Probably because I’m here.”
“No, that’s not it. He just seems stressed. Which is weird. I don’t remember when my dad has ever let himself show that kind of emotion.”
I purse my lips, fiddling with the edge of my blanket. I want to tell him that it really is me, I’m the problem, but before I can, Angel sniffs and then sits up, rubbing at his mouth. “Can I be rude for just a second? Like, just this once?”
My eyebrows rise at that. “Sure.”
“You need a shower, babe.”
I huff a laugh and lift my arm, smelling my pits. “Yeah, I think I do. It’s been a couple days.”
“I mean, you were indisposed with some pretty bad injuries, but yeah, let’s get you washed up.”
He shifts off the bed and helps me stand, his lean body pressed into mine as he leads me to the en suite bathroom. Just this small walk has me breathing like I’ve run a mile.
Fuck, I’ve never been one for athletics, but I’m usually pretty active. Especially in the bedroom. At this rate, I won’t be able to fuck at all.
I’d just have to lie there and take it. Like a pillow princess.
I huff in partial annoyance at the thought just as Angel turns the faucet on. The water runs into the large two-person ceramic tub, and I watch as he adds some essential oils and a bath bomb.
“This should help with the healing,” he says and then moves toward me, his deft fingers helping me undress.
It’s so sweet, so platonic. I don’t even get hard from it, and Angel doesn’t seem bothered either. It’s almost like he’s my brother.
If I had a brother, I’d choose someone just like him.
“Oh gosh, those bruises look brutal,” Angel says, his fingers trailing over the black and blue spots on my ribs.
“Yeah, they don’t feel that great either.”
“Agatha has some cream for these. She’s making you a batch.”
“Yeah?” I ask, my mind conjuring up the woman who runs the kitchen. She’s always been so kind to me and makes me a mean French pastry every time I show up.
“Yeah, I know when my dad told her what happened, she said she’d get on making a batch right away. It really is amazing stuff.”
I eye him. “How do you know it’s amazing? I can’t imagine you ever being hurt.”
“Oh, I’ve never used it. My dad has though. He boxes sometimes.”
I envision Anthony in a ring, sweat dripping down his powerful body and feel my dick start to chub up. Well, hell. At this rate, I’ll be hard for all eternity.
Angel’s hand leaves my side, and he helps me get into the tub. The water is hot, but not so much so that it hurts. As soon as I sink down into it, I feel the relief of the heat on my sensitive, aching skin.
“This is nice,” I wheeze as I lean back and take a moment to appreciate my surroundings. The bathroom is elegant, like all parts of Anthony’s mansion. I shouldn’t have expected anything less. Marble floors, a small chandelier hanging overhead, orchids perched on the windowsill. A small haven for his guests.
“Yes, it is. And you’ll smell much better.”
“You keep saying that, Angel, and I’ll get a complex,” I reply with a small laugh.
He giggles in response as he grabs two glass bottles and settles near the end of the tub. “You know you’re a hottie. Even with the black eye. You just look a little…oily.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
“But even oily, you look like a rock star. A sweaty one.”
“I better look like a fucking rock star,” I grumble as he helps me lean my head back against the cool ceramic.
“Stop being so snarky and let me wash your hair.”
“Fine, wash away.”
He sighs and then gets to work, his fingers working the suds into my scalp. I already feel more human.
“After this,” Angel says, nearly humming, “Want to go for a walk?”
“With that hottie bodyguard, Casey?”
“Yeah,” Angel says with a small laugh.
“I’m down,” I say. “Gotta get my six-pack back.”
“You’ve only ever had a six-pack in your dreams.”
I scoff and turn my head slightly to glower at him. It hurts to do so, but I still manage to make eye contact.
“You’re a real brat when you want to be, you know that?” I say, and Angel grins at me.
“I mean, I have to be a little bratty. My twin is Diablo.”
“True,” I say and then settle back against the tub. “But anyways, I need to at least get some of my definition back. At least my two-pack.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“It is.”
We chat about nothing, silly small-talk as he rinses my hair and then conditions it, his fingernails dragging against my scalp. Damn, that feels nice , I think as I let him pamper me. When it’s time to get out of the lukewarm water, he wraps a towel around me and helps me dry off.
“So, what am I gonna wear?” I ask when the towel is tucked around my waist.
“So, my dad went to your place to grab clothes last night, so we have your stuff in the dresser. Let me get you some.”
The thought of Anthony in my space makes a shiver erupt through me. Well, damn. I hope he didn’t see any of my sex toys or my dirty clothes. Actually, I kind of hope he saw my toys. Maybe it would make him think of me in a different light. Although, the dirty clothes might make him wince. I have a hamper, but rarely use it. And I’m pretty sure I had some dirty underwear hanging off my bedside-table lamp.
Angel reappears with a pair of bright blue sweatpants, a white t-shirt, and a pair of boxer briefs.
“Here you go. Do you need help changing?”
I shake my head and wince with the movement. “Nope. I can manage.”
“Awesome,” he says and then takes a step closer to me, giving me a good sniff. “And you smell much better.”
“Fuck off,” I say with a small laugh as he turns to leave.
When the door clicks shut, I pull on my clothes, checking my face out in the mirror. My eye is still badly swollen, and I have a healing cut near my lip, but other than that, the damage isn’t that bad. My body on the other hand…
I pull up my shirt and see the bruises blooming across my skin. Black, blue, yellow. A nice color combination, but really, not a good look.
They’ll heal.
My mind, however, might take a bit longer.
But then again, I do have the ability to get through trauma with humor. It’s dark and twisted, but it helps me cope.
When I step out of the bathroom, Angel is waiting for me on the bed, his eyes on his phone, his thumb scrolling across the screen. He glances up, and his blue eyes meet mine.
“Oh, you look nice.”
“I look like death, Angel. You don’t need to lie.”
“I’m not lying. You do look good. Much better than when you were in that bed.”
I huff a small laugh and stride toward him, my legs wobbling slightly beneath me.
“I’m gonna have to take it slow.”
“We can go as slow as you want. You ready?” he asks, and I nod, linking my arm through his.
We make our way down the long hallway, our footsteps sounding off the walls. This is a space I’ve traversed often to get to Angel’s bedroom. And I may even know where Anthony’s bedroom is. I had to snoop to find out.
It’s the one at the far end, with the double doors. There is a very small chance, I may have stood outside it once or twice, trying to hear him sleep.
Or jack off.
Or whatever he does behind those doors.
But I heard nothing.
That man is elusive. Even when I seek him out, I can’t find him.
He must have secret passageways around here. Oh god, I’d love to find one of those.
Talk about sexy.
“We have to get Casey first,” Angel reminds me as we take the stairs slowly down to the first floor. I glance to my right and see a few paintings on the walls, abstract and colorful. I’ve seen them many times, the house seems to be covered in them, but I never thought to ask about them.
“Who painted these?” I ask, and Angel’s eyes soften even more.
“My mom. She loved to paint.”
“Oh,” I say, stopping and looking up at the yellow and blue and green splashed across the canvas.
“I don’t think she was any good,” Angel says in a whisper. “But my dad refused to let her believe she was anything but genius.” I grin at him and his eyes sparkle. “He did love her, so much.”
“I can see that.”
“They really are shit, though.”
I let out a loud laugh and then gasp, holding onto my ribs.
“God, Angel. Stop making me laugh.”
He nods and crosses his hand over his heart. “I promise to stop being funny immediately.”
I roll my eyes at him as we continue forward. When we get to the bottom of the stairs, I see Anthony’s office to the right. The doors are shut and most likely locked.
I’ve tried to snoop and have been unsuccessful.
Sadly.
I’ve tried, several times to no avail.
“Don’t even think about it, Tatum,” Angel warns when he sees where my eyes are stuck.
“I can’t help it. It’s so intriguing.”
Angel tugs me into the kitchen. It’s there that we find Casey, eating a cookie while Agatha is bustling around, cooking and baking nonstop. Honestly, this woman is amazing. Not only is she here, working from dawn until dusk, but whenever I visit, she always has special treats waiting for me.
She’s a gem and must be protected at all costs.
“Oh, Tatum,” Agatha says with a wide smile, reaching out toward me and placing a Paine Suisse in my hand. “I’m so glad you’re up and about.”
“Me too.”
She pulls me into a gentle hug and pats my back.
“I’m sure Angel told you, but I have an ointment for you to put on your bruises. It’ll help them heal much quicker.”
I nod and take a bite of the croissant. “Yeah, he told me, and oh god, Aggie. You gorgeous creature. This is delicious. Your talents are wasted here. You should come move in with me. I’ll pay you in smiles and love.”
She beams at me and then swats at me. “You keep those words to yourself, young man. Don’t make me go complaining to Mr. Costello about you trying to poach me.”
“You’d never,” I say back, already feeling more like myself the longer I’m up and about. Being bedridden is not for me. My mind can’t cope with it.
“Casey, we’re ready to go out into the gardens when you are,” Angel says, leaning into him and snapping a quick bite of his cookie. Casey eyeballs him and then sighs, feeding him the rest of it.
“If you weren’t so cute, I’d murder you for that,” Casey says and then stands up, swiping another cookie from the plate and walking to the large French doors and pushing them open. His long legs step outside, and I can’t help my gaze taking in his tall, lithe form for a little appreciation before moving to the greenery all around us.
Anthony’s mansion sits on several acres and abuts a literal forest. I’d asked about security on the premises when first arriving months ago, and apparently, from what Angel’s told me, Anthony has spared no expense. There are electric fences surrounding his property, guards at all entrances, and cameras everywhere.
We’re always being watched.
And yes, I’ve debated jacking off in full view of one of those cameras just to see what happens. Not that I’ve had a chance to do that.
“Alright, right this way,” Casey says around another mouthful of cookie.
We trail after him, our arms linked once more. I glance over at Angel and swipe a cookie crumb from the corner of his pink lips.
“Oh shoot, did I have something lingering there?” he asks with a slight blush.
“Just a crumb. You still looked cute with it, though.”
He sighs and then rubs at his face. “It doesn’t matter. No one’s here to see me anyways. I could have a cookie head and it wouldn’t matter.”
“I mean, a cookie head would be amazing. Everyone would want a bite.”
He giggles and nods. “They would. Maybe then someone would want to eat my face.”
I nudge him and then wince when I hit him with my bruised side. I need to remember that I’m still sore. This could have been so much worse. I could be completely bedridden, or brain dead.
“Be careful with yourself. My dad will be so upset if you get hurt again.”
“Angel,” I begin with a sigh. “Your dad doesn’t even notice I’m alive most of the time.”
My friend side-eyes me and then flicks at my nose. “You are so cluelessly adorable.”
I don’t know what that means, and don’t have a chance to ask when Angel gasps and skips off, leaving me behind. “Oh my god, they’re in bloom, Tatum!”
He cups some kind of lily in his hand like a princess and leans down, inhaling it. When he stands up and turns toward me, his nose is yellow.
I gesture to my face, but he just ignores me, frolicking over to the next plant.
“Casey! They’re in bloom! Look at them! I need sheers. I’m going to make a bouquet.”
Casey pulls the radio from his jacket and says something into it before turning toward me and shrugging.
I shrug back and make my way to a small stone bench and lower my sore ass onto it. One of those dickheads got me right in the ass cheek. And I’m no newb to a sore ass. Just usually, it’s more enjoyable than that night.
I watch as Angel prances from one flower to the next, and I can’t help the small smile that pulls my lips up. He’s told me how important this space is. This garden was his mother’s, her pride and joy. When she died, Anthony preserved it to keep her memory alive.
Angel keeps her memory alive by helping maintain it.
I could do this too. The Secret Garden was one of my favorite books growing up.
If this was my space, I’d add to it. I’d make it even more colorful. I’d have a space built with a secret door and a swing. I’d make it positively magical.
But then again, no one asked me for my opinion. This isn’t my space. This is Angel’s and his mother’s, and I won’t overstep.
Normally, I’m fine with blurting shit out, but not this time. This place is almost sacred. Any changes to it would be met with disapproval.
A moment later, an older man appears with garden sheers and a wooden basket. I’ve never seen him before, but he could be one of the gardeners. I’m sure that Anthony has a few staffed full-time to take care of the expansive property.
“Here you go,” the man says to Casey before turning around and disappearing from view.
“Oh my god! Look at this one, Tatum!” Angel says with a grin a few minutes later, reappearing from between two large bushes. He holds out a pink bushy flower to me. “It’s a peony! I planted it last year and they bloomed. They’re going to look so good in an arrangement.”
I let out a small laugh. “You should do this for a living.”
“If only,” he says with a dreamy sigh and then moves away again, within sight but also far enough away. He’s bending over, his hands gently pulling buds up for inspection and snipping some off. He’s lost in his own world, a world of colors and scents. A world totally his own.
“We’ll be a while,” Casey says with a smirk. “That kid could be out here all day.”
“Yeah,” I say, standing up and stretching slightly. “Maybe I should go explore for a bit.”
“Not too far,” Casey says with a stern voice. “Don’t want my fingers cut off if I lose track of you.”
I snort at that bit of ridiculousness. “No one is losing fingers, dude.”
“Someone would if you got hurt again. I happen to like my fingers. I’m very good with them.”
I snort at that. I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but he doesn’t look like he’s joking anymore.
“I’m serious, Tatum. No wandering out of view. Keep to the gardens. And for god’s sake, don’t even attempt to go near the sheds.”
I roll my eyes and nod. I was caught trying to go into one once.
Casey caught me and nearly wrung my neck.
I have an idea of what’s in those.
The idea of it should turn me off, but honestly, it just turns me on.
I’m so damn curious about this side of Anthony. I want to know every part of him. The one that he presents to me and Angel and then the one he keeps buried, the one he lets loose in the shadows.
It shouldn’t be hot, but for some reason, it really is.
My mother and father would be appalled if they found out about this. My mom would clutch her pearls and my dad would get red in the face. They’re both so naive in many ways. They adopted me when they were older, took me in as a foster child when I was a toddler and then made it legal when my mother finally gave up custody. It’s part of the reason I want to go into adoption. I know how beneficial it is for a kid to be in a stable and loving home.
“I’m just gonna try to get some steps in. Steps not anywhere near the sheds. I promise.”
Casey eyes me suspiciously, but I just grin at him and make my way around the hedges. It really is a beautiful property. He must spend thousands a month just to sustain it. I’m sure with all the illegal activities he’s involved in, he brings in plenty to afford it.
I glance over at Casey, who now has a hand on his gun, his gaze scanning between me and Angel. I really wish I had more freedom to explore further. I’ve only seen half of this property. There is so much more that I’ve yet to lay eyes on.
I’ve been fascinated with this place ever since Angel and I became friends. Usually, I just come over unexpectedly and we sit in his room, or in the conservatory with all the exotic plants that Anthony has had imported for his son. But when Angel finds himself predisposed with homework or a romance novel, I often wander around, peering in closed doors and sneaking around the property like the little shit I am.
Never have seen anything sinister though.
Much to my dismay.
Not that I’d like to see someone in pain, but knowing Anthony, they’d probably deserve it.
“Tatum. No farther, you little shit,” Casey calls out.
I waggle my fingers at the bodyguard and then blow him a bratty kiss. I’m not looking for him to get his fingers cut off, but god, I’m really not that far away. And the grounds are sprawling. I want to wander just a little farther.
He rolls his eyes and then calls out, “You better behave.”
“I always behave!”
His snort greets me, and I can’t help but beam at him.
I may be bruised and feel a little broken, but goddamn, I could be in a worse situation. I could be alone in my lame apartment and not at this gorgeous mansion in these rolling hills.
“I’ll tell Anthony,” Casey warns, and I roll my eyes again.
He should tell Anthony. I’d like him to be a little worried for me. I mean, he did come for me, but it would be nice if he would kiss me all better.
In your dreams, you delusional idiot.
“Tell him! I dare you!” I shout back and then rub at my side when pain lances up it.
Casey’s eyes narrow, his mouth pursed. And then he lifts his radio and calls something in. I sure as fuck hope he’s calling sexy mafia man.
I wait with bated breath, my body thrumming in excitement until another man starts to make his way down the path, his lumbering form almost shielding the sun from view.
“Oh, fuck me,” I murmur when Casey smirks over at me. This is so not Anthony.
I flip Casey off, and it’s his turn to blow me a kiss.
The man comes to a stop near me and folds his arms across his wide, muscular chest. I eye him up and down as I rub at my chin.
“Hello, big man. I’m Tatum.”
The man just stares at me behind his sunglasses. He’s broad-shouldered with muscles nearly as big as me. He has a shaved head and a neatly trimmed beard, and he apparently doesn’t feel the need to speak.
“Do you have a name?” I ask. He doesn’t respond, just stares at me.
Well, this is no fun.
I sigh and then make my way back to where Angel is. I’ll help him look for flowers. At least then I’ll have something to distract me.
When I finally make it to him, my large shadow in tow, I bend down as much as I can and take a look at the small bouquet Angel has arranged in his wicker basket.
“Those look nice,” I say, and Angel beams up at me.
“They’re lovely.”
He focuses back on the task at hand, and I’m left to just watch him. I guess it could be worse. “I could be dead,” I mumble.
“You could be dead,” Angel says and then sighs, glancing back up at me. “But I’m glad you’re not. I’m glad you thought to call me.”
I nod and then lower myself to the ground with a grunt. My ass continues to ache from the bruise and my ribs scream at me when I lean forward, but it could be worse. I could be a ghost.
Suddenly, Angel hops up, two purple flowers between his fingers.
“Hold that thought.” He prances over to the bodyguards, slipping one behind each of their ears before making his way back to me.
I stare at both of them and grin. Casey looks ridiculous with that purple flower behind his ear, but that big guy looks even more so. And yet, neither do anything to remove them. Ha.
That’s what they get. I hope they have to wear them the entire day.
“Anyways, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been lonely since Diablo moved in with Skylar.”
“I bet. It must be hard having your twin so far away.”
“It is. I miss him so much.”
“Angel,” I begin, and he cocks his head toward me. “Why is Diablo allowed to live off the property, but you’re not.”
He sighs. “Because Diablo can take care of himself. My dad doesn’t think I can, doesn’t think I have what it takes if someone comes after me. I’m too much like my mom.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I know, but he’s right. I don’t have it in me. I’m too nice, and that’ll get me hurt one day.”
I nod and then reach over and fiddle with the petals of one of the white flowers peeking out of the basket.
“That’s a tulip.”
“Yeah, I know what a tulip is,” I say, and Angel huffs a small laugh.
“Sure you do. Anyways, I think my dad would like this bouquet, don’t you think?”
I eye it. I don’t see Anthony liking bright things, but then again, this is from his late wife’s garden, so what do I know?
“I think he will,” I lie. “Did your mom used to pick flowers for your dad?”
“Oh yeah, all the time. Our place was filled with them. Just vases and vases of them.”
I grin at the visual and lean back slightly. “Does he miss her?”
“I think so, but he’s used to being alone. My dad has lost a lot of people in his life. His parents, his grandparents. It’s why he’s so careful with me.”
“How did he lose them?”
“Just part of the business. Back then, things were more wild and unhinged. It was far more dangerous. My dad’s a lot smarter about how he runs his businesses and any illegal activities are thought through more carefully. He doesn’t want to end up like them.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
“Kind of. The mafia is a weird thing. It’s something you need to get used to,” Angel says and then peers off into the distance. “I see a few more flowers I want to grab. You sit here and keep watch over this.”
And then he’s off, moving toward some orange and red flowers. Casey follows Angel while the big man hovers over me.
“But really, Goliath, do you have a name?” I ask again, but the man doesn’t answer. Of course he doesn’t. He just looms like an ominous shadow.
I pull the rest of my croissant from my pocket and take a nibble. Chocolate and cream explode on my tongue, and I let out a low moan. God, Aggie outdid herself this time.
“You want some?” I offer, lifting my arm up, but the man stays quiet.
I sigh and continue to nibble on the pastry until it’s completely gone. Crumbs litter my shirt, and I wish I’d brought water with me. Or some milk.
Any liquid really.
I’ll just have to wait until I get back.
As soon as I think that, Angel makes his way toward me, a few more flowers in his hands.
Casey is hovering around him, a frown on his face.
“Casey, I’m fine. It’s just a bee sting,” Angel sighs.
“You could be allergic. You could die.”
“I’m not going to die. I’m fine .”
With a pained grunt, I move to stand, being helped in the process by the big man behind me. For the first time since he appeared, I’m glad for his presence. That made the whole thing of using my legs so much easier.
“I need to tell your father about this,” Casey says and Angel rolls his eyes.
“Fine, if you must. But I really am fine. That bee was just confused. It didn’t mean to hurt me.”
Casey rubs at his chin but doesn’t answer, just fiddles with the gun at his side. He’s probably debating shooting all the bees in the garden.
“I’m ready to head back if you are,” Angel says softly, the basket hanging off his arm. “I want to get these into water.”
“Yeah, I could go sit on a cushion for a bit. My ass cheek is throbbing.”
He nods and then leads me, arm in arm back toward the house. Even if I didn’t get to explore the grounds as much as I wanted to, I’m glad I got out of the house. No more lounging around in bed all day for me.
The more I’m up and about, the more I’ll feel like myself.