CHAPTER 5
DOVE
When I stretch, my body is deliciously sore in all the right places. It’s almost as if I can still feel Angelo’s hands on me. I don’t even try to stop my smile at the thought.
The last thing I expected was Angelo Amato to come into my life, but he did. And if his words are to be believed, he has no intention of letting me go.
The smart thing to do would be to make a break for it and run as far and as fast as I can in the other direction.
But running is the last thing I want to do.
I don’t think Angelo would let me get far anyway. What would be the point in even trying?
How many times does a chick like me have a hot, powerful, rich man, who could choose anyone, drop into her life like fate’s own hand is ensuring the outcome? Not fucking often.
I’m going to take this rags-to-riches fantasy and let it play out.
What other choice do I really have?
I look toward the other side of the gigantic cloud of a bed to find it empty. While a twinge of disappointment hits me, I shrug it off. Angelo can say I’m his and that he’s never letting me go, but getting too comfortable within the world of his promises would not be a good idea.
He has the power to destroy me on a soul-deep level. All the more reason to keep my emotions out of this thing.
If I can.
With a shake of my head, I get out of bed and stretch before grabbing the button-down shirt Angelo must have discarded last night when he climbed into bed with me.
Once it’s on, I notice the shower running and it makes me wonder if the bathroom is bigger than my whole apartment as well. I’m sure it is.
Since I didn’t see any of it last night, I wander out of the bedroom and down the hallway. Do I poke my head inside every door I walk by? You better fucking believe it.
There are three more bedrooms and what is clearly Angelo’s office. I close the door very fucking quickly when I get to that room. The last thing I want is to be caught snooping in there. I’m not interested in being visited by the Grim Reaper any time soon, thank you very much.
When I come across a bathroom, I slip inside and get as ready for the day as possible considering the circumstances.
If I had anything to put on, I’d take a shower, but it will have to wait until I can go home.
My gut sinks with the realization that it’ll be sooner rather than later when I slither back to the dank and moldy apartment I call home.
Talk about a fucking let down.
I shake off the thought as I finish brushing my teeth with a spare toothbrush I found in the cabinet and wash my hands again before I continue my exploration.
When I step into the living room, my lips part as the huge bank of windows shows me just how high up I am and how beautiful the view of Seattle is.
I’ve never seen the city from this angle, and I can’t help myself as I step closer and press my hand to the glass. It looks so different from up here, almost as if there aren’t corners of this city where only shadows and grunge exist.
I know differently.
From up here it would be easy to forget. It would be easy to think you’re above it all.
But I’m not and I’ll be going back to my life soon, I’m sure.
Honestly, I should have guessed Angelo lives in a penthouse apartment. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he owns this entire building. In fact, it would be more shocking if he doesn’t.
With a sigh, I force myself to step away from the windows and pad out of the living room. I’m a little surprised this place isn’t all open concept since it’s all the rage when it comes to design aesthetics. I personally prefer it when things are a little more closed off and separated.
I’ve had enough of open concept after living in my tiny studio. Give me walls. Please.
When I step through another doorway, I freeze in place.
Because standing in the kitchen I’ve just walked into, with his head stuck in the giant fucking fridge, is Romeo.
Just as I’m about to retreat back to the bedroom with the hope of garnering Angelo’s protection, something I’ve only felt in his arms, Romeo straightens and turns toward me. Did I make a sound? Fuck, I probably did.
One night with Angelo and time earned protection mechanisms are already failing me. I’m in so much trouble and I’m not sure which Amato is a bigger threat to me.
Romeo’s lip curls into a cruel sneer as his eyes rake over my body and take me in. Even though I force my arms to stay loose at my sides, instead of wrapping around me, it’s a struggle.
“Well, well, well,” Romeo drawls while a smile grows on his face like he’s just caught the most delectable prize.
He puts the orange juice, which is in a glass container it doesn’t normally come in, to his mouth and drinks. The entire time he’s drinking straight from the container, he doesn’t take his eyes off me.
When he’s done, he lowers the bottle and lets out a sound of satisfaction like the juice really hit the spot. Keeping my face neutral when all I want to do is cringe is more difficult than it should be.
“What do we have here?”
I clear my throat and try to sound bored, like this is the last place I want to be, “Good morning, Mr. Amato.”
“Oh, so it’s Mr. Amato?” He tilts his head to the side as malice flashes in his eyes. “Now you want to show how good your manners are? Now and not last night when you could have had both the Amato men filling your holes?”
Unable to stop my reaction, I cringe and rear back from him and his words. The need to run bubbles up in my gut, not just from Romeo but from this place. Sure, Angelo told me he would never share me, but can I really trust him?
Romeo steps closer, his face a mask of victory. “You shouldn’t be here, Dove,” he taunts me. “You should be covered in jizz in one of the rooms at Second Circle.”
Bile fills my mouth, but I swallow it down. I know what he’s doing. As much as I would like to ignore his verbal jab, he’s not fucking wrong. And it stings.
He must take my silence as permission, or at least agreement, because he takes another step closer, his voice dropping down to something he probably thinks is seductive, “You know he won’t keep you, right?”
My lips part while my mind screams at me to say something, anything, to defend myself and Angelo.
But the words get stuck in my throat as my mouth goes dry.
What could I even say? I’ve only known Angelo for about twelve hours, if that.
And the only thing Romeo knows about me is that I sell my body to get by.
“He’ll throw you away when he’s done with you.
” He says the words like they’re a foregone conclusion and I find myself wondering if they are.
“Not only is he too old for you, but you’re just a whore.
He’ll use you for the only thing you’re good for.
Then he’ll get bored and you’ll be right where you belong—in the trash next to the used condoms he’s gone through while plowing your body. ”
My breath hitches, but it’s not for the reason Romeo thinks if the gleam in his eye is anything to go by. For the first time since I walked into the kitchen and Romeo started spewing his hate-filled words, I find myself wondering if he knows his brother at all.
Angelo cut out my birth control implant. He told me about his plans to put a baby in me. The way he looked at me didn’t hold any hesitation, only resolve and determination. Could a man like that do what Romeo is saying?
Would he throw me away?
Even though it doesn’t make sense, I’m doubting Romeo’s words.
When Romeo reaches out to grab me, I’m quick to stumble back a few steps. “No,” my voice is weak, scratchy, and coated in fear I wish I could hide, “don’t touch me.”
Romeo’s face morphs into a mask of pure fucking rage. “Oh,” he spits out the words, “you’ve fucked my brother and now you think you’re more than you are?”
I swallow hard and consider whether I’d be fast enough to get away if I made a break for it. Honestly, I have my doubts. And I really wish I would have put more clothing on than just one of Angelo’s discarded shirts. I didn’t exactly have a lot of options though.
Before he can come closer, I take another step backwards and hit a solid, warm chest. My eyes widen as I start to shake because the body standing behind me can only belong to one man.
Angelo Amato.
When I glance back at him, he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at his brother with fire in his eyes along with the promise of retribution.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t touch her, little brother,” Angelo’s words are calm, but he’s seething and barely holding himself back. “If you had, I’d be cutting off your hand before killing you.”
Romeo, fueled by stupidity and unwarranted confidence, throws his head back and laughs like his brother has just made the most hilarious joke.
Angelo’s arm wraps around me, and his large hand splays open on my lower abdomen.
If it’s a reminder, I’m not sure if it’s for me or him.
Either way, it has the hurt of Romeo’s words fading just a little more.
“Good morning, la mia pace,” he whispers low enough for only me to hear, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.
When he kisses my neck, I shiver in his arms and avoid Romeo’s piercing gaze.
“Now,” he stands up to his full height at my back, “what is going on here? What are you doing in my home, Romeo?”
“You clearly came by to see me last night,” Romeo fires back with a shrug.
“Since we didn’t get to talk, I figured I would stop by.
” His eyes rake over me, disdain written all over his face.
“I wasn’t expecting to find,” he clears his throat, and I know in my gut he wants to call me a whore, “Dove here.”
“Where else would she be?” Angelo’s voice is far too casual and I almost cringe because Romeo is going to walk right into this one.
“She should be rinsing dried come from her body in whatever hole she calls home,” Romeo bites out the words while staring at me instead of looking at his brother. “Isn’t that what whores do after a busy night?”
I want to recoil. I want to curl up into a ball in the corner and gently rock back and forth until the tension around me fades away.
But I have no other choice than to stand right where I am. The way I’m trapped has my heart pounding in my chest while my eyes dart around the room.
Angelo takes a step forward and the press of his body takes me along for the ride even though it’s the last thing I want.
“Watch your fucking mouth, Romeo,” Angelo barks, “or I may forget you’re my brother. My woman belongs here, at my side.”
“Your woman?” The disbelief in Romeo’s tone would be comical if I wasn’t at the center of this battle of power and wills. And if they weren’t talking about me like I’m not standing in front of them.
Then again, maybe that second thing is for the best, all things considered.
“You heard me,” there’s no room for argument in Angelo’s tone.
“Claiming a whore,” Romeo tsks and shakes his head. “What a disappointment.”
Angelo takes another step forward and then he’s holding a gun against Romeo’s forehead.
I swallow down the shriek of surprise trying to work its way up my throat.
What the fuck? Considering I have the heat of his bare skin pressed against my back, I can’t help but wonder where the fuck he even got a gun.
Although, to be fair, we are talking about a man who heads up a very successful and dangerous crime syndicate.
I have to press my fingers to my mouth to stop the maniacal laughter from slipping free like it desperately wants to.
Romeo looks just as surprised as I am for a second before his face goes carefully blank. “You’re going to shoot me? Over her?” He glances down at me, and I know he would kill me. If he could.
But he can’t. At least not right now.
“I could,” Angelo throws out there, his voice casual. He pushes the barrel of the gun against his brother’s forehead a little harder and then the gun is gone. “But I won’t. At least not today.”
I blow out a ragged breath. When did I start holding my breath? Angelo’s fingers tighten against my abdomen as if he’s reminding me to stay strong. I straighten my spine and allow his strength to seep into me.
“It’s time for you to leave, Romeo. I’ll deal with you later.”
Romeo looks between me and his brother a few times before huffing out a chuckle and storming out of the room. The tension doesn’t leave the room immediately, but it does shift. It’s no longer coated in fear and the threat of violence.
Angelo’s hands are gentle as he grips my shoulders and turns me around. I don’t look up into his eyes. I can’t.
I’m not sure what I’m feeling. Maybe relief? Maybe shame? Maybe even a little hope?
The longer I’m around Angelo, the more fucked up my head becomes.
“Did he touch you?” I shake my head while keeping my eyes trained on Angelo’s chest. “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” I croak out.
He grips my jaw, his touch is firm, but it doesn’t hurt. Using his hold on me, he tips my head up until I’m looking into his hazel eyes. The concern I see there is so fucking genuine that tears prick the back of my eyes.
The thought of crying in front of this man is mortifying. I can’t let it happen.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, trying to answer the unvoiced questions I can see in his eyes. When he just continues to study me, clearly not believing my words, I blurt out, “You don’t have a problem with our age difference? I’m 25.”
Angelo freezes for a second before the sound of his warm laughter fills the kitchen. My cheeks warm as I try to pull away from him. But he doesn’t let me go.
I have a feeling he won’t ever let me go. Why do I find that reassuring instead of terrifying?