Adorra
Here it was, the dreaded third act break up. I’d lived my Mafia romance book fantasy. Had the beautiful island romance, complete with steamy, wet, sea-filled kisses. I’d met his quirky family members and fallen in love with them. We’d spent our night discovering how perfect our bodies were for each other. We had everything going for us, and then, bam, a problem arose from out of nowhere.
If we were a book, I’d have thrown us across the room. These were the parts I despised. When the obviously perfect couple got into a heated argument over a misunderstanding. If the problem arose at less than seventy percent completed on my e-reader, I’d DNF that book and keep it moving. I never understood why two otherwise smart, savvy people didn’t realize they could solve all of their problems by just freaking talking to each other.
I stabbed at my sandwich with a fork. Picking at everything from the meat to the freshly made, still-warm bun. I’d love to talk to him if his ass hadn’t high-tailed it out.
“We need to talk,” Yaya said. Her dark brown eyes locking on mine.
I swallowed and set my plate aside. “Okay, what about?”
She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table, arched a brow, and waited.
I slumped in my chair. “It’s nothing. Just a little misunderstanding.”
Yaya snorted. “I doubt that. Xander doesn’t get angry easily. You guys seemed so happy. What happened?”
I took a deep breath and told her the whole situation. I was glad to have someone who wanted to listen to my explanation and didn’t just storm off like a child. When I finished, she x-rayed me with the hard brown stare of a teddy bear. “Are you here to spy on him, on us?”
“No. Oh, my God, Yaya, no. Absolutely not. I swear—”
She stopped me and shook her head. “I believe you—”
“You do?” Tears filled my eyes. “Why couldn’t it have been that simple with Xander? A two-minute explanation and we could’ve continued enjoying our visit. Why couldn’t he wait to ask?”
“Scared.” I shook my head, but she ignored it. “It’s hard to hold your destiny in your arms. It’s so easy to wish, dream, and hope for someone to love and be loved by. But to accept it takes a lot of courage.”
“He cared so much that he couldn’t even hang around to discuss it with me?”
“Which proves my point. He would have just sat down and listened if his feelings weren’t on the line. It would have been easy to hear you out. But now he’s running. He’s scared. Scared that he made a mistake. That he fell for the wrong person.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’m the one who got matched with him. I’m the one who signed up for the agency. No one tricked me into joining. I wanted this.”
Yaya nodded. “And you still do. Don’t you?”
The sea was the bluest I’d ever seen it. The waves went out and returned a few times before I answered. “Yes. I still want him. But I worked hard to build up my self-confidence.” I focused on her again. “Part of that, a huge part, was learning when to let go. If someone doesn’t want you, then maybe it’s time…”
“Oh, I see.” She sat back, watching the sea as I’d done.
“What?”
“Now, you’re running scared. I understand. It’s as I said. Finding your destiny is difficult. Accepting love—”
“We never said we loved each other. We haven’t known each other very long—”
“Pfft.” She smacked her lips and rolled her eyes. Yaya gave great eye rolls. “It took one week, and I was in love with my husband. Now, I let him chase me for six months. Chasing is the best part. You young girls don’t know what you’re missing. He ended it when he saw me flirting with another man. He lost it. He put his foot down and said, now or never.” She sighed. “We were married within a week.”
“You planned a wedding in a week?” I asked, trying to keep the astonishment from my voice.
She winked and gave me a saucy grin. “I found my dress, the bridesmaid’s dresses, the cake, and the ring I wanted, all picked out by the second week.” I laughed, and she joined me. “Told you, I knew. And I wasn’t wrong. We were married, God rest his soul, for fifty-six years.” She pointed to my heart. “And you know, too.” She held up a hand before I responded. “No, don’t tell me. The first time you say it. He should be the one who hears it.”
“Only he’ll never hear it. He left the house and hasn’t been back for three days. He doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“I doubt it. How have you been getting around?”
My nostrils flared, and I shook my head. “He didn’t even give me a way to leave.”
She tipped her head smugly. “Exactly. What does that tell you?” Before I could find a way to tactfully say; that he’s an asshole. She said. “He’s not letting you get away.”
“Well, he can’t keep me here in limbo forever. He needs to get back up here soon, or I’ll be gone. Even if I have to swim to the mainland.”
“Don’t start swimming yet. I’ll get him up here.”
“How? I’m not begging him. I mean it, Yaya.”
“Don’t worry about it. Nicos will take care of it.”
“Nicos?”
She nodded and winked at me. “Nicos”
* * *
“So, you’re the girl that’s got Xander’s panties twisted in a bunch.” A deep voice rattled the library where I’d curled on a couch. He’d startled me so much that I dropped my book, but he scooped it up before it hit the ground. Catching it impossibly fast. I reached for the book and froze. Holy hell, this guy was fucking hot. Xander was handsome, his face, dimples, body could turn me on with a single look.
But this guy took Xander’s looks and ramped them up. They had to be related—they had the same dark eyes, square chin, and even the same dimples. His eyes grinned, and he arched a brow at my open-mouth stare.
He winked and said, “Yeah. I get that a lot.”
I bet he did. No, I wouldn’t bet against his looks—only if I was looking to lose. He held out his hand. Lifting me from the couch as we shook. “I’m Nikolaos, but you can call me Nicos.”
“Nicos,” I repeated dumbly, still startled by his looks.
“Yes. I’m Z’s brother. Although I’m sure he hasn’t mentioned me.” He took my hand and placed it on his chest. Rubbing it over one of his muscular pecs. “It breaks my heart. It really does. Why does no one trust me around their woman? All I ever want to do is help.” He guided me out of the library and down the hall with his hand on the small of my back. “That’s why I’m here, by the way. Yaya told me you needed a little assistance.”
“I do?” I asked. My brain responding sluggishly to what he was saying.
“Yes. Yaya said Xander left you in the house, and you’re getting a little stir-crazy, no?”
His accent deepened, and I laughed, catching on to his antics. Xander and his brothers had all grown up in the States. The accent was no doubt a way to charm and disarm a woman—as if his looks, dayyuum good looks, weren’t enough.
“So where are we going?” I asked as he buckled me into a silver Bugatti Chiron.
“Wherever you want, agapi mou. And don’t worry, we’ll get you back before Xander shows up.”
I sighed, my heart sinking. “Xander’s not showing up… that’s the problem.”
“Then your problem is solved. Because no one leaves their woman alone with Nicos.” He sighed. “I mean, look at me.” When I did, he smiled and winked. “It’s a curse.”
I laughed again. He wasn’t Xander, but he was fun, and he’d gotten me to smile. God, how long had it been? “Okay, I said. Let’s go. I trust you.”
He shook his head and pushed a button, revving the engine. “Then you’re as big a fool as Z is.” Before I could respond, we were racing down a mountain as if we were on a roller coaster with the wind ripping through my hair.
* * *
When we returned, the villa was dark. Every light extinguished except the lanterns lighting the pathway and the porch, where Xander stood, glowering.
Xander.
“What’s up, Z?” He waved as he parked. “What did I tell you,” he murmured. “Breaks my effin heart.”
Xander wrenched my door open, pulling me out and standing in front of me as if Nicos meant to hurt me. “Xander,” I yelped, but he ignored me. Saving his rage for his brother.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Did you put your hands on her?”
“Z, fucking relax. Yaya asked me to take her around since you went missing.”
“I wasn’t missing.” He ground out.
“Yeah, well, you weren’t here. If you had been, you could have objected before we spent a lovely day together.” He nodded to me. “I would give you a hug goodbye—”
“You will not,” Xander raged. “And if I find out you touched her at all. Even a fingerprint…”
“Then I guess you need to look for them before she showers—”
“Showers?” Xander whipped around so fast that he nearly knocked me over. “What the fuck have you been doing with my brother that you need a damn shower for?”
“I—”
“Sh, don’t tell him a damn thing. If he had cared that much, he should have been here.” Nicos waved again before speeding away. I jumped away from his gravel spray while Xander looked ready to chase down the Bugatti and rip the doors off.
“What the hell?” He growled at me, stalking forward when I backed up. “If you wanted to go somewhere, all you had to do was ask me.”
“How?” I said, hands on hips. “You dipped out on me. Was I supposed to chase you down?”
He paused, blinking. Then looked down and kicked some gravel in response.
I threw my hands up. Unbelievable. This man was unreal. I started for the villa, but he caught my arm and pulled me against him. His eyes burned with anger and something else.
He crushed his mouth to mine, kissing me until I was breathless. Until I clung to him, my legs shaking. “I missed you so damn much. I’m never doing that shit again.” Xander growled. Then he lifted me, carrying me into the house and up the stairs to his room. Our mouths never broke apart. Not when he laid me on the bed. Not when he stripped us both naked. Not when he thrust inside of me.
Xander took me with a fury that left me gasping for air. He fucked me like he owned me. Like he would never let me go. I came, screaming his name while he shuddered inside me.
We lay in the darkness, our breaths slowing, and stared at the ceiling as if it knew all the answers. I didn’t want to ask, but I had to. “Are you ready to talk?”
He threw his forearm over his eyes and nodded. I raised up and moved it away. Mafia or not, most men were babies. How had I forgotten that? “Xander, you had questions; what did you want to ask me?”
“Why did you join the Book Boyfriend Agency? What were you trying to prove? Did you not feel this thing between us?”
That was what he really wanted to know. The realization shook me because the answer that would make or break us. I cupped his cheek and turned his face to mine. “I felt it. We live four hours away, nearly three hundred miles apart, but we connected as if in the same room. You don’t know how many times we ended our conversation in the middle of the night, and I wanted to drive to Chicago and knock on your door so we could keep talking. The only reason I didn’t is I didn’t want the police to arrest me for stalking.”
He traced the curve of my cheek and gave me a two-dimple smile. “The only reason I didn’t is I didn’t want you to think I was crazy. I didn’t give two shits about what the police thought.”
“You know how much I love books and mafia romance books in particular? I wanted to learn more about the mafia life—” Xander stiffened. “Just so I could write more authentically. We both agree the Godfather was fantastic. Somebody had to give him that information—unless Puzo was in the mob?” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “That was it. Just a crazy wannabe romance author looking for background information. Is that okay?”
He shook his head, and I drooped. “First and foremost, because it’s dangerous. We have secrets no one can know or tell. If someone thinks your research might expose them, they’d take you out. And you don’t want to be the cause of the hell I’d bring…”
“You wouldn’t…” I bit my lip.
“In the blink of a fucking eye.” He said it without blinking his eye, and I swallowed hard—believing him. “Second, I’m not okay with you hiding things from me. If you needed information you should have come to me. Asked me.”
“Would you have told me?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Remember points one and two,” he said when I looked down. “But it doesn’t matter. I want you to come to me. When you need something, anything, think of me first. I’m your man.”
“Any more points?”
“Yeah,” he growled, pulling me onto his chest and into a kiss. “What’s all this wannabe author shit? Listen, if my girl wants to write a book, she’ll do it. You’ll be a successful author if I have to buy every book in the country—hell, the world.”
I laughed and said. “It’s not the same if you’re the only buyer. Hello, I need other people to buy them.”
“Fine. You’ll be a best-selling author if I have to stand in front of every bookstore in the country with my gun out until your books are sold out.”
“You’re terrible.” I smiled and laid my head on his chest. “No, you’re wonderful.”
“I know,” he said. “That’s why you love me.” The hand tracing the curve of my spine stopped when I stiffened. “You love me, right?”
I sat up, narrowing my eyes at him. “That’s a funny way of getting me to say it first.” I folded my arms and pretended to glare. “So unfair.”
Flipping me under him, he said. “You’re right.” He leaned down and kissed my nose, my forehead, my cheeks… “Let me say it first. I love you, Adorra. Love you so much.” Sliding my legs apart, he whispered. “But that’s just telling—let me show you.”
He entered me, lifting my butt so our bodies were in perfect alignment. I sighed as he filled me. Devastated me. Owned me. When he seated himself, I crossed my legs around the back of his thighs and whispered before we took off.
“I love you too.”
And then we soared.