Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
J ames
I didn’t sleep a wink last night. The feeling of rage inside me was a hard one to extinguish, and it only burned hotter after last night replayed in my head over and over, making it difficult to sleep. I knew what had happened last night would permanently affect her, and I couldn’t stop the negative thoughts swimming in my head that she might resent me over time because of it.
The sound of a door creaking open breaks me from my thoughts, and I look over my shoulder and see Cecilia pause in the doorway of her bedroom. My breath escapes me when I take in her pajamas. It looked like a matching set. Her strapless top that was baby blue wrapped around her chest and stomach like a second skin, and her sleep shorts were white with stripes of the same color blue, but also pink and purple. Her hair was as wild as I’d ever seen, covering her bare shoulders and falling down her back in a curly mess.
It was all too much. Seeing her exposed skin that was slightly hidden by her hair. Her bare legs under such bright-colored shorts reminded me that she was nothing like the women I’d ever been with. She was eccentric, soft, and feminine in ways that made me crave her to the very point of insanity.
I rise from her couch, turning to look her way, smiling as I do. “Good morning, babe.”
Her face flushes a deep shade of red, and she looks down at her toes, which are now wiggling against the hardwood floor. “Good morning, James.”
I cock a brow, stepping in her direction. “You look positively flushed this morning.”
Her hand flies to her face, palming her cheek as she keeps her gaze on the floor. “It’s weird, you being here.”
“It’s spreading down your neck,” I remark, looking at her pale skin across her chest, which is starting to glow with a pink hue.
“Yup. I get red there, too. Everywhere, pretty much.” Her words come out rushed as she races to her kitchen to brew a pot of coffee.
I move to her kitchen, leaning against her counter as she keeps her eyes fixed on everything below her. “Why won’t you look me in the eye?”
“Maybe because you killed someone last night.”
“You looked at me just fine last night.”
“I was in shock,” she counters quickly.
“And now you’re not?”
“Nope, and I’ve concluded that you’re a psychopath.”
I chuckle, taking the full pot of water from her and slipping it into her coffee maker. “I thought you’ve already come to that conclusion.”
“Well, I fully believe it now. I don’t like how easily you did it. Like it’s not the first time.”
I didn’t answer her because it wasn’t. Certain parts of my job have gone wrong, resulting in such actions. I’m not saying they have come easily, but they don’t keep me up at night.
“What are we doing today?” I ask, changing the subject.
She finally looks up at me now, her expression proving how crazy she thinks I am. “Who’s we?”
“You and me. What are we doing today?”
“We are doing nothing. You are going home.”
“Only if you’re coming with me.” Her eyes widened another fraction, and I chuckled. She was easily rattled this morning, and I was kind of enjoying it. After proving I had her under my security protection, I convinced her brother to head back to the city, leaving out the gritty details of last night’s escapades, but either way, she was all mine again, and I fucking loved having her all to myself.
“That’s also not happening. Ever,” she replies sternly.
I moved closer to her until I stood just before her. “You want to bet on that?”
She looks up at me, her eyes searing me. “You need to quit this act of yours.”
I look at her, confused now. “What act?”
“This acting like you want me thing. It’s gross and a little unkind.”
“Gross?” I scoff. “And who the hell said it was an act?”
“Come on,” she challenges. “What else would it be?”
I stare at her, taking in her beauty that was never created to be mine, but I want so badly anyway. Despite how much I could tell her body warms toward mine, I could see the fear swimming in her gaze. I could tell she wasn’t ready for me to say to her just how much I’m starting to not only want her but need her. I hated going days without seeing her. I thought of ways I could get my hands on her, even if only to touch the tips of her fingers with mine. I needed to spend time with her first, if only to prove to her that an act is the last thing this is.
“I think the answer would be entirely too much for you,” I tell her. “So, instead, how about you answer my original question? What are we doing today?”
“Why are you being so persistent? Don’t you have work or more pressing matters to tend to?”
“Nothing is more important than you, especially after last night. It’s best I stay close because if men like that want to follow up with you, they don’t beat around the bush. They’ll make their move today. I want to be near just in case that happens.”
She stills now, her gaze locked onto mine, frozen like ice. “Do you think they’ll do that? Come find me?”
I shake my head. “No. I don’t,” I lie, hoping that was the case. “As much as I adore you, babe, you’re nothing to them. Plus, I have others keeping an eye on their moves. I think it’ll be alright.”
“That Dante guy knew my name. Should I be worried about him? Who is he?”
“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, it’ll be alright, and I have extra eyes on them should anything happen.”
“Like whom? My brother?”
“No, not your brother. I trust someone else enough to handle it, so believe me when I tell you it’s probably fine.”
She cocks a curious brow at me now. “There’s someone else on this earth with James Kingston’s trust? Who is this magical creature?”
I shake my head, grinning at her. “You’ll have to spend a little more time with me before you start getting all my secrets.” She rolls her eyes, and I fight every urge inside me to grab her little cocky mouth with my hand and give her a reason to keep her eyes on mine.
“So, I really have to spend the day with you?” she grumbles.
“You can drop the facade, Cecilia. I know you’re absolutely desperate to have my company.” She blushes and looks back down at her feet again, and it feels like the room is getting a hundred degrees warmer. I grin, using my finger to lift her chin and meet my eyes again. “You look like you’re thinking some very naughty things, babe.”
She shoves my hand away from her. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I don’t need to. You already have.”
“Okay,” she bites out, stepping away from me. “I’m going to get dressed for the day.”
I chuckle, leaning back against her counter. “I’ll be waiting.”
An hour later, Cecilia and I are walking through her local market as she grocery shops for her apartment. I felt strange being out so domestically like this with her. I couldn’t remember the last time I had gone shopping for weeks’ worth of groceries like this. It made me feel a little spoiled and selfish, and I didn’t like it.
She picks up a small cantaloupe and smells the bottom of it before grimacing, setting it back down, and picking up another, doing the same.
“None of them smell right.”
“What should they smell like?”
“Like they’re ripe and sweet. They all smell like…grass.”
I smirked as I picked up a cantaloupe and smelled the bottom of it. “This one isn’t terrible.”
She takes it from me and smells it, and a smile lights up her face, which nearly stops my heart right here in this market. Fuck…I was so screwed.
“Just like you to be so perfect all the time. Even the fruit you pick is good.”
I grin now, looking at her as she rounds the fruit shelf. “You think I’m perfect?”
She tries to hide her smile as she shakes her head, looking down at more fruit in front of her. “Nope. I just meant you’re egotistical.”
“Sure,” I chime, rounding the shelf to be next to her again.
“So, what should I get next? What looks good to the fruit king?” she smirks, looking over at me.
I laugh now, scanning the store around us. “How about those?” I say, pointing to a mountain of peaches.
“Peaches?” she asks, surprised, pushing her cart toward them. “I haven’t had peaches in so long.”
“Why not?”
She shrugs. “I just haven’t. Do you like them? Is that why you chose them?”
I shake my head, helping her fill her produce bag with some. “You have a lip gloss you wear sometimes that reminds me of them. I thought of you when I looked at them.” I set two more peaches inside her bag, totaling five altogether, and realized her hands had been oddly still holding open the bag. I look up at her, seeing her eyes locked onto me like she was experiencing an alien sighting or something. “What’s wrong?” I ask her.
She blinks, her voice quieter than normal. “You’ve noticed the color of my lip gloss.” I assumed it was a question, but she says it is more like a statement, so I’m not exactly sure how to answer her.
“Yes,” I simply reply.
She quietly pulled the bag of peaches in and tied them up before putting them inside her cart. She began her trek back through the store, not saying much else now. Her mood completely shifted, and I wasn’t sure if I had done something wrong.
I follow behind her, staying quiet and inspecting the kinds of groceries she picks out, curious about what she likes. She gets bagels with raisins in them but gets the whipped cream cheese, not the regular spread. An obscene amount of bananas. She seemed to prefer chicken over beef regarding her meat selection. She gets fruit-infused water instead of regular water. The last item she grabs, or items, is four different pints of something called Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. She tossed them into the cart like she had a personal vendetta against them. I was still mystified by her newfound hostility.
I load her groceries into the trunk of my car and head back to her apartment. She doesn’t say a word the entire way there, and I don’t either. I'm still confused by what the hell happened. Maybe she doesn’t like peaches. Maybe she’s mad I suggested them, and she has to eat them. Although I feel like if that was the case, she would’ve told me she didn’t like them. Cecilia isn’t one to hold back her opinions or thoughts.
Once home and her groceries are put away, she pulls one of the pints of ice cream out of her freezer and cracks it open, shoving a giant spoon right into the center before she plops down on her sofa.
I sit down next to her, watching her intently as she silently eats her ice cream. “Is there something wrong?”
“Nope.”
“Don’t forget I know when you lie to me.”
“You just know every little thing about me, don’t you?”
“Okay, enough. What’s going on here?”
She glares at me, stabbing her spoon rather harshly into her ice cream. “I want you to tell me about you. Tell me about your life. How you became who you are. Share a secret with me. I don’t like knowing hardly anything about you when you seem to know me inside out.”
I press my lips together, understanding dawning on me. “I see. What do you want to know?”
She closes her eyes in what I can’t decide is either patience or impatience. “Everything. Just…tell me everything.”
“Okay,” I answer softly, a mixture of feelings washing over me like anxiety and a strange need to show her who I really was. “I’ll tell you what you want to know.” She opens her eyes, slowly spooning another bite of ice cream into her mouth as she gazes at me, and I can’t help but chuckle. “You asked me earlier who the other person in my life is that I trust…well, his name is Stefano Luccio.”
She blinks widely. “Now he, I know, is a mob boss.”
I try to hide my amusement. “He’s the head of his family and completely dominates the city. He’s like a brother to me.”
“I heard he was your brother.”
“Not quite. You see, I was born to a man named Jeremiah Kingston. My mother died during birth from a hemorrhage, so my father was left to raise me alone. He didn’t manage well with it and grew to be resentful of me. By age eight, I became my father's personal punching bag. My eye,” I say, pointing to my brown one with its enlarged pupil. “I have this condition because of an injury I sustained at his hands. At the age of ten, he decided I wasn’t worth it anymore. I was brought overseas to America, all the way from London, where I was born, and dropped off right here in Boston.”
Rage and sadness consume me as I remember the shattered memory of my childhood. I blocked a lot of it, only remembering bits and pieces, but I remembered that day like it was just yesterday.
A small gasp escapes Cecilia’s lips, and I can hardly look at her as I flay myself open. “My father left me in an unknown country while he traveled back to his, leaving me to survive on my own, knowing I would never find my way back after that kind of travel as a child. I’d only been on my own for a couple of weeks when I ran into Stefano on the streets, causing a stir at a corner deli market where I was trying to steal food. He had noticed what I was doing and questioned me. He found me interesting because of my eyes.” I chuckle, amused by the memory. “The following day, I woke up in the alleyway I had been sleeping in to find him and his father staring down at me, and I guess the man took pity on me.”
Looking back at the memory and everything Stef and I had been through together, I think he also needed a friend at the time. It was hard carrying the expectations of taking over an entire organization. I knew it because he wanted to share it with me, but it was never my path to take.
“He took you in, and you grew up with Stefano,” she says, understanding now.
“Yes. So, you see, I’m not a good man. I was raised by wolves. I’ve done things in my life to get to where I am that would make you shake out of your skin. A made man raised me, so my tendencies and morals align with many of theirs, and much of my business is involved with theirs.”
“But you’re not a part of it anymore?”
I shake my head. “I never belonged. I needed to be king of my own castle, so to speak. Unfortunately, though, I still find myself wrapped up in the lifestyle.
“Why tell me all of this?” she asks, looking deeply at me. “Telling me about your involvement with a mafia family only proves that I’ve been more than right all along. That you’re dangerous for my brother and…and for me.”
I bite my lip to feel the sting of pain before releasing it just as quickly. “I’m telling you because you split me open, Cecilia. I can’t hide or keep a mask on around you. You wanted to know me, and I wanted to show you just as much. I can’t be anything but utterly undone by you.”
She breathes in deeply, staring back down at her ice cream. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because James,” She looks up at me, obvious pain deepening her gaze. “We are from two completely different worlds. I’ve been plotting against you because your lifestyle is something I don’t want my brother or me to be a part of.”
“How about now?” I ask curiously.
“What do you mean?”
“When we’re away from it all. How do I make you feel when I’m here with you…in your world?”
She looks away again. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything.”
“It changes everything, Cecilia.” She toys with her spoon in her ice cream, looking defeated, and I realize once again that this is still too much, too soon, so I take a deep breath, forcing myself to change the subject. “What is that you’re eating?”
She slowly meets my gaze, her eyebrow popping in question. “It’s ice cream?”
“I’ve never heard of Ben nor Jerry,” I remark.
She laughs now, and it brings an instant smile to my face. “You’ve never had Ben and Jerry’s ice cream? It’s literally the best.”
“I’d hope so for the price you pay for such a small pint.”
She laughs more and digs her spoon deeply into the ice cream. “Try it. It’s cookie dough.” She holds her spoon out to me, which has a mountain of ice cream sitting in it, and I stare at it, realizing I haven’t had ice cream since I was probably thirteen years old. I lean forward, closing my mouth around the spoon, my eyes locking onto hers as I slowly suck the ice cream off. She stares, her eyes wide and transfixed on me as she continues to hold the spoon toward me even after I’ve already pulled away as if she were stuck in a trance.
“Very good,” I tell her, licking my lips.
She blinks rapidly, finally putting the spoon back into the container. “Yeah…it is,” she rasps.
I smirk and lean back onto the couch. “What else is on today’s agenda?”
As she talks, she gets up and puts her ice cream back into the freezer. “I slept pretty late today, so I don’t know. I guess have some dinner and watch a movie or something.”
“Sounds easy enough.” I was more than happy to stay inside her apartment the rest of the day doing absolutely nothing except being near her. I also couldn’t remember the last time I simply watched a movie and relaxed. Being with her was causing me to have way too many revelations about how I’d spent my time in my adult years, and I wasn’t happy with any of it.
“Do you have a favorite movie?” she asks, sitting back beside me.
I tilted my head, trying to think about it. “I don’t think so.” I was slightly embarrassed about it because I was still human. I should have enjoyed movies and even had some favorites, but I didn’t. Not one. But where I thought I’d find more of her judgment, she just casually nodded along.
“I don’t have a favorite movie either. There are too many. We can pick something together, I guess.”
I turn my head to the side toward her. “You’re being awfully kind.”
She rolls her eyes. “If I’m stuck with you, I might as well make the best of it.”
“So enthusiastic,” I murmur.
“Whatever. I’m going to prep for dinner, so?—”
“Do you care if I use your shower while you do?”
“Oh,” she says as if I startled her. “Yeah, sure.”
I nod in thanks as I go to her bathroom and shut myself inside. I slide open her shower curtain and take in the obscene amount of shower products sitting on hanging shelves in her shower. It was like a rainbow of products, plus some men’s ones, to my surprise.
I stare at them; the thought of her having these, because she has men over and in her shower, makes me want to put a fist straight through the bathroom wall.
I shower quickly, begrudgingly using the men’s shower soaps, but when I step out of the shower, my clothes on the counter are gone, and a clean folded towel is there instead. It’s light pink with little pom-pom balls on each hem. I sigh as I wrap the towel around my waist and walk out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam rolling out as I do.
I walk toward the kitchen where I thought Cecilia would be, but she’s not there or in the living room when I turn around to look. I turn back around and see her bedroom door open, so I go there now and stop inside when I see her on her knees inside her closet, tossing several handfuls of clothes to the side.
“Anything in there for me?” I call out, making her jump and a small scream rip from her. I smirk as she slowly turns around to face me, and her eyes instantly focus on the towel I’m holding closed at my waist and then slowly roam up my wet chest. I pop a brow, watching her watch me. “Or would you rather me stay like this?”
“I…I was trying to find you something before you were done,” she managed to say, although her voice sounded weak and dry.
“So, you’re the clothes thief?”
She hesitantly smiles. “I have to do a load of laundry, so I thought I’d throw your clothes in with mine.” She stands now with a pair of sweatpants in her hand and starts flipping through her hangers before pulling a shirt down off one. “Here,” she says, handing them to me. “It's not quite your style, but it’s not women's clothes.”
I take them from her, noting the dark grey sweatpants I set on the bed. Then, I hold out the shirt for me to see. It was a dull blue T-shirt with a faded white print of the Colorado mountains on it—somewhere I’d never been and something I’d never wear.
“Old boyfriends?” I asked because I had to know, and he better be old, as in the past. “You even had men’s shower products,” I point out.
She blushes, making my chest squeeze. “I just bought the shower stuff for Tobias because he’s been hanging around a lot lately, and the sweatpants are also an old pair of his.”
She doesn’t finish, and I fist the shirt in my hands. “And the shirt?”
“It’s not that big of a deal, James. Just wear it.”
I step closer, making her step back toward her closet door. I continue until she can’t back away any further, and I’m completely in her space. “Who’s is it?”
She huffs incredulously, trying to avoid eye contact with me. “It's just an old boyfriend from college. I never gave it back because I liked how big and soft it was. I’ve washed it a hundred times, so it’s fine.”
“Hmm,” I murmur. What feels like hard clay twists in my stomach as I step away from her. I grab the sweatpants off the bed, walk back to where she hasn’t moved, and trap her with my presence again.
Then I drop my towel.
She lets out a gasping noise but keeps her eyes locked on mine. I grin down at her as I stand completely naked in front of her. I couldn’t help myself. I was so fucking hard already. She was trying too hard to keep her eyes on mine, and her skin was turning a gorgeous color of pink like it was this morning. The idea of someone catching me here like this, in her bedroom, was so forbidden but so damn right.
Maybe her little friend could walk in and see how she can’t resist me. She wasn’t even trying to move away from me. God, I wanted her. It was becoming agonizing having her this close and not being able to do a damn thing about it.
I keep my eyes on hers as I slip into the sweatpants and tie them around my waist. I then take the shirt in my hand, hold it between our barely touching chests, and brace it in my fists as I rip it straight down the middle.
That’s when she finally snaps out of her trance, looking down between us at the shreds in my hands. “You asshole! That was my favorite sleeping shirt.”
I shrug, dropping the scraps at her feet. “Not anymore,” I murmur before walking out of her bedroom because if I stayed in there any longer, I would probably put that catty mouth of hers to use.
“I can’t stand you,” she grumbles as she walks out behind me with the scraps and tosses them into the trash before returning to the kitchen.
“Have you decided what we’re watching?” I ask, ignoring her tantrum.
“No. Why don’t you just scroll through and see what looks good.”
I sit on the couch, grab her remote, and flip on the TV. “What is The Night A Woman Was Scorned? It’s on your most-watched list.”
She blushed again, and I decided to spend the night seeing how many times I could make her do that. “It’s nothing, just a show I like to watch when I can’t sleep.” I look back to the TV and put on the first episode, drawing a squeaking noise out of her. “Seriously, James, it’s a romantic vigilante show. We don’t have to watch it.”
“I want to watch what you watch. I’m curious.”
“Ugh,” she grumbles. “Whatever, fine.”
I smile as she goes back to the kitchen and starts dinner. Every time an action scene broke out, I would find her staring at me instead of the TV, like she was gauging my reaction. I found her interest in my responses to what seemed to be her favorite show amusing, so I made sure to act enthralled with it, which wasn’t too hard. The show was action-packed and definitely didn’t lack the romance she claimed it to be. I could see why she liked it. The main character is a hopeless romantic who does evil deeds in the name of love. She reminded me of Cecilia.
It was all so… nice.
Relaxing in her home, the sound and smell of her cooking us dinner. It was something I could get used to, and the idea of that didn’t scare me as much as it should.
In fact, after today, I felt drawn to her world more than ever before.