Chapter 18
Matteo Ricco
With Brook safely in my arms, her attackers too injured to fight back, and the police on their way, my adrenaline drops.
I shake harder than I ever have before as my symptoms return in full force.
My head throbs and an odd numbness blankets my veins, but my little rabbit’s presence locks me in the moment.
The wicked humor in her brown eyes as she silently snarks back at me tugs my lips into a relieved smile. When the first tendrils of lust sneak into my veins, I tighten my arms around my woman and pray for control.
She cups the side of my face and searches my eyes. I blink.
“Trust me,” she whispers.
I nod.
Despite the fear lurking in her eyes and the blood caking her gown, she slips into her calculating lawyer persona.
My cock throbs. I dig my fingers into her hip.
With simple gestures, Brook leads me through what I should say while the operator is on the line.
I follow her lead, knowing she’ll gather all the evidence we need to decimate everyone involved.
She places her phone in her lap and pulls mine out of my breast pocket.
With trembling fingers, she texts Liam a surprisingly detailed yet succinct list.
The motherfucker leaning against the wall hacks up phlegm and blood. His ruined face brings me immense satisfaction. Pride flows through me. Brook ensured he’ll be eating from a straw for a few months.
My brother gurgles in his own mess. Brook crawls out of my lap and reaches for him. I grab her wrist.
“First aid. Better legal argument,” she croaks.
“Don’t hurt yourself for them, Brook. No more trying to talk. I’ll do it,” I demand.
I roll him onto his side and arrange his limbs so he doesn’t flop onto his back again, but when I try to rise, the room spins.
My little rabbit catches my shoulders, and with her help, I plop onto my butt instead of my face. Concern tightens her features. When she lifts her phone and taps my cheek, I realize I drifted into a daze.
“Our champagne was spiked. Only one glass each. I think…”
Brook takes over when my tongue turns to lead. She puts the phone near her lips and speaks in a harsh, painful voice.
“I vomited. He did not. His symptoms are—”
The world fades in and out of focus. Voices echo around me. Red and blue lights pierce into my brain. I rouse and find myself flat on my back on a wheeled stretcher with Brook’s fingers clasped tight around mine.
As the next wave of powerlessness washes over me, I relax into it, knowing my little rabbit will take care of me. No matter what trials we face, she’ll be by my side protecting, healing, and loving me.
She can’t hide it anymore. I saw the delight and yearning in her eyes when I called her my fiancée. She loves me and I love her.
I love her. I never thought I’d say those words to anyone besides my parents, but I vow to tell her as soon as I wake.
For a long, empty, indeterminate time, I bask in a dreamless sleep until lust claps through me like thunder. It burns unnaturally hot. A feral beast roars out my need. Yelling and crashing accompanies his ire.
My little rabbit soothes him.
She spoils him. Wrecks him. Drains him dry.
I rise from jumbled euphoria and squint in the low lighting. A machine beeps near my head. Brook’s soft, feminine body is tucked against my side as I sit partially reclined in a hospital bed. Her dainty fingers brush against my flesh through the gaps in my shirt with every breath I take.
Confusion spears through me. My dress shirt doesn’t have gaps. This isn’t what I wore to the gala.
Hospital gowns cover us both. A neck brace encircles Brook’s throat and digs into my arm. Tape secures IV lines to the crook of my elbow and the back of her hand. The bags hanging beside the bed are mostly empty.
She was covered in blood. I need to make sure she’s not hurt. She rouses and stops my searching hands with a hiss.
“No more,” she whispers.
I pause.
The smell of sex lingers in the air despite our clean bodies, clothes, and sheets.
My cock aches, and a pinching sensation plagues my hip.
Holy hell, I had sex with Brook Simons in a hospital bed. Wild, rough sex, despite the brace around her neck and the trauma she survived earlier tonight.
I’m a monster.
Brook shifts to face me on the bed and pinches my stubbled chin with delicate fingers. Her deep brown eyes demand my attention.
“I am fine,” she whispers.
“How can you be fine? Fucking hell, Brook, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you. You—”
She thumps my chest with the side of her fist and squeezes my cheeks. Without a sound, she conveys her thoughts by first pointing at herself then at me as she mouths I touched you.
She swings a leg over me and kneels with a knee on either side of my hips before grabbing my face with both hands. The neck brace squishes her cheeks and limits her movements, but the next word her lips form carries all the way to my soul.
Mine.
My heart stalls as she trails reverent fingertips over my face and down my throat.
All mine.
I barely breathe as she teases along my collarbone, over my shoulder, and down my arm.
Only mine.
She grabs my wrist and lifts my hand.
Forever.
A gold band shines on my ring finger. She weaves her digits into mine and reveals the diamond ring on hers.
My heart kickstarts to life and pounds against my sternum.
This is the pair I bought after proposing to her. They were in my suit pocket waiting for the right time to propose again.
She lifts our hands to her lips and kisses my bruised knuckles.
Marry me.
A surprised laugh escapes my chest. I pull our hands to my lips, kiss her knuckles, and brace an arm behind her back before resting my fingertips against her cheek, too afraid of hurting her to apply more pressure.
“That’s my line, little rabbit,” I chuckle.
She gives a wicked smile and lifts a brow. I give a mock sigh and shake my head.
“You’re bad for my reputation. First you made me beg and now you steal my proposal? I should demand compensation,” I tease.
She slips her hand over mine and nuzzles into my palm before lifting bottomless, doleful brown eyes at me.
“Please, Matteo. Be my husband,” she whispers.
I growl and take her lips in a gentle, worshipful kiss. When I pull back, tears glisten in her eyes.
“You beg so sweetly, little rabbit,” I murmur and wipe away the first drop before it reaches her chin.
She clutches at the front of my gown, unable to reach higher because of the neck brace.
“Yes, I will marry you, Brook. You and only you.” I rub my thumbs over her cheeks. “I love you,” I vow.
Her breath hitches. She digs her fists into my chest, preventing me from kissing her again.
I love you, too.
I smirk and cup her head in my hands.
“I know, little rabbit. Now kiss me,” I demand.
She leans forward. I take her mouth and pour my devotion into her sweetness as she consumes my soul with hungry sweeps of her tongue.
Brook Simons is mine.
My world. My woman. My soon-to-be wife.
Nothing will stop me from marrying her. She owns my future and rules my fate. My success means nothing without her by my side.
Together, we will annihilate the stupid fuckers who dared touch her and ruin anyone who had a hand in her abduction.
She’s mine. I will not share.
Ever.
***
“Are you ready?” I ask.
Brook looks away from the window for the first time since we entered the vehicle and squeezes my hand.
“Yes, I’m ready, thanks to you,” she says. “I still can’t believe you paid off all my debts behind my back.”
“Think of it as an advance,” I say.
She quirks an incredulous brow.
“Oh? And what are you expecting as payment?”
I lean toward her and whisper in her ear.
“A front-row seat to your father’s demise.” I lick her earlobe. Her sharp inhale pierces through the quiet car. “And your cooperation in coordinating the most lavish, expensive wedding New York City has ever seen,” I murmur.
She elbows me and rolls her eyes.
“I’d rather you demand something more… carnal,” she says.
I hum and bring her fingers to my lips.
“Why would I pay for that when begging works so well?”
I flick my tongue between her digits.
Her pupils shrink and an aroused flush rises up from her chest.
“You’re right. Keep begging. It suits you,” she goads.
I growl and nip the back of her hand. Her engagement ring glitters in the sunlight. I kiss above and below it.
“Whatever you say, little rabbit,” I say, throwing her words from forever ago back at her.
She laughs and gives me a chaste peck on the cheek before reaching for her door handle. I grab her nape.
“Touch that door and I’ll send another package to Mr. Carter,” I promise.
She freezes with her hand an inch away from the shiny handle and swings her narrowed gaze my way.
“Don’t you dare,” she hisses.
I chuckle and tease my thumb over her jugular.
Every time I send new gym equipment to her old-school landlord, he refuses to let other patrons use it until she breaks it in.
The payback is inventive and cruel in a way that’s somehow underhanded yet straightforward.
When I sent a leg press and two treadmills at once, my poor little rabbit could barely walk up the stairs to her apartment afterward.
She’d done the right thing and called me for help. Her swearing and disgruntled side-eyes were worth it. I finally have a bargaining chip.
She sighs and drops her hand into her lap.
“Fine, then. Hurry around, my husband-to-be. I’m ready,” she demands.
I pull her to me by her nape for a quick, hot kiss before exiting the car. She accepts my hand and rises with the grace of a queen. In her tailored pantsuit with her hair pulled back and retribution shining in her eyes, she’s he most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.
I lead her up the back steps to join the team of FBI agents standing in the alcove. After a few handshakes and a quick rundown on the plan, we push through the opulent double doors.
Brook leads the procession down the gleaming hall to the last courtroom on the right. The agents stop a few feet away so the occupants of the courtroom can’t see them.
When my little rabbit flings the doors open and strides in as though she owns the place, the gaggle of men standing in the center of the room turn and stare at her in slack-jawed awe.
All except the man in the black judicial robe. His expression darkens the closer she gets to him.
Chad Prescott is a powerful man with connections everywhere.
Correction: he was a powerful man until I broke his connections. All the years he spent building his rapport with crooked cops and shady businessmen all came crashing down with a bit of cash.
Okay, maybe more than a bit of cash but I have more money than I could ever spend in my lifetime and bringing the man who abandoned the love of my life when she needed him most to his knees is something I will fund a thousand times over if it means she’ll marry me with no regrets.
Brook glides right up to him and offers him her hand to shake. He looks between her, me, and his acquaintances before accepting.
“Judge Prescott. My name is Brook Simons.” She takes the manila envelope from her briefcase and slips it into his outstretched hand. “On behalf of my client, Mr. Matteo Ricco, you have been served. We will see you in court.”
Goddammit, she’s sexy as hell. I can’t wait to get her alone but ending this moment too soon would be criminal.
Ha. Criminal. Just like the man turning purple in front of us.
“You can’t sue me. I have—”
“Your judicial immunity only extends as far as your official duties. Read the papers, sir,” she says.
With an impressive spin on her heel, she turns her back on him and signals for the FBI agents to enter.
“Oh, and you might want to do so sooner rather than later,” she advises over her shoulder.
“You can’t arrest me,” he snarls.
“Oh, I’m not. They are.”
“Then what the hell is this?” He asks with an angry shake of the envelope.
“Those are your summons to court for the damages you’ve caused Mr. Ricco. This—” she sweeps her arm toward the uniformed men streaming into the room, “—is for my mother.”
The color drains from his face. Brook’s confident smile shreds his composure.
As he blubbers and devolves into yelling, the lead agent pulls his wrists behind his back.
“Chad Prescott, you have a warrant for your arrest. You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
The agent continues reading him his rights despite the anger and spittle spewing from his lips.
Brook slips between the benches to watch them escort her biological father down the aisle. I slide in beside her and sit on the hard seat while she stands so my body stays between hers and danger without blocking her view.
As the agents file out of the room, Brook stands statue still with her eyes trained on the wall. Her father’s yelling echoes long after he’s out of sight. I encompass her hand in mine and give her a gentle squeeze.
“Congratulations, Ms. Simons. That was amazing,” I say.
She rolls her shoulders back and gives me a cold stare. My cock throbs. I long to muss her hair and kiss her senseless.
“This is only the beginning,” she warns.
“I’ll be with you every step of the way,” I vow.
She smirks, steps between my legs, and slips her fingers into my hair. Liquid fire pulses in my balls as she leans forward. The position deepens her cleavage and reveals the hickey I gave her last night.
“I know, Matteo. Thank you. I love you,” she murmurs.
In a courtroom with Chad Prescott’s buddies scurrying away like cockroaches, I kiss her like a man possessed.
It doesn’t matter where we are or what we’re doing, I want her taste on my tongue, her voice in my ear, and her hands on my body.
She’s mine. My lover. My friend.
My vicious little rabbit.
Mine.
Forever.