‘E TU SÌ sicuru ca erunu vàddia?’Jimmy’s voice booms through the speakerphone, his accent so thick I can’t decipher a fucking word. He must be pissed.
Forcing my way into the right lane, I flatten my foot to the pedal and pick-up speed.
‘Jimmy, speak English. I can’t understand you,’ I state curtly.
‘My boy. Work on your Sicilian. It is your mother tongue.’ Jimmy tsks. ‘Are you sure that they were officers?’
Frowning at the other cars on the road as they cruise without urgency or care, I confirm, ‘Yes. I recognised one of them.’
‘And this. . . nonna?’ Jimmy asks, reminding me about the bitch who scared Cassidy.
She had the fucking balls to approach me in public, not to mention to then address Cassidy directly and beg her for help. I fist the wheel. Glancing at the white roses lying on my passenger seat, I cringe. The domesticated man, Max Butcher. The man who brings flowers home to coax his girl into forgetting what she saw and heard. My arms twitch with the need to throw them from the car. Not that she doesn’t deserve flowers. . . Fuck. ‘She made a scene.’
‘They will think her pazzu, se? Mad.’ He laughs loudly and states, ‘Either way, I will get one of my men to pay her a visit. You believe her to be Paul and Marco’s mother?’
He is far too jovial to not either be halfway through a bottle of whiskey or be staring at an open pussy he’s about to whip. I hesitate on the yes, knowing what this means for the old woman and her family. ‘I believe so.’
‘Leave it with me,’ he states. I go to hang up, not wanting any part in what happens moving forward. ‘Ah, my boy, before you go, I believe congratulations are in order, se?’ I tense, my finger stroking the cancel call icon. ‘I thought this might be the case when you told me your bedda girlfriend had moved in with you. I’ve been waiting for you to settle down. I suppose I won’t have to read about you in the paper anymore with, how do you say it politely, an array of . . . conquests?’
‘I won’t be fucking around,’ I rumble, trying to stifle the growing agitation inside me. I just want to get home, check on my girl, reassure her. Not talk about cheating on her because that sure as hell will never happen. If I ever do that. Ever hurt her. Disrespect her. In that way. . . I’m content with the knowledge that both Xander and Bronson will cut me up.
‘Ah, young love. I am very pleased with that,’ Jimmy coos and it’s never an agreeable tone for me to hear. In fact, I despise it. I don’t need or want his approval. ‘Inconspicuous, my boy. That is all I ask. That is what I want for you. And she is a fine, upstanding citizen from a very influential family. An honourable family. The District loves Ben Slater. I know this. And we have Cassidy now. She is, well. . . she is famous for her sweet nature. People think little birds dress her in the morning, se? You have done well. This is good for our reputation. For Clay.’
Red.
I see red.
His cheerful words singe a hot trail from my ears to my eyes and I don’t hear anything past ‘we have Cassidy now’. The bones in my hands shift and ache as I try to crush the steering wheel. I have Cassidy! She isn’t an asset or a mutual possession; she’s fucking mine.
I hit the cancel call button.
AS I WALK SLOWLY down the hallway towards our new room, I notice the glow of a light under the door – a possible indicator that she’s awake. I stop just before entering and stare down at the flowers in my clenched fist. I note the illuminated 12:20 a.m. on my wrist. She should be curled on her side, deep in slumber, dreaming about the good in this world. The soft things. I should buy her a puppy, not flowers. So she can cuddle her at night when I have to leave. I breathe out loudly, physically trying to dowse all the anger bubbling near the surface.
When I push the door open and walk inside, I’m stilled by her little body seated on the edge of the bed. Her knees are drawn up to below her chin and her arms make a band around them. She lifts her head, her glossy hazel eyes finding mine in the low light. Springing to her feet, she runs to me. I drop the flowers when she jumps into my arms. Catching her, I envelop her tightly.
And she’s fine. I’m not sure what I had expected when I saw her.
Not this.
My anger vanishes.
Her hands thrust up into my hair before clawing down the nape of my neck. The desperate and needy grate of her nails against my skin awakens my cock. Squeezing my waist with her toned thighs, she secures herself to me. She slams her mouth onto mine. I groan as she loses herself in the kiss. Sliding my hands down the length of her spine, I palm her soft, perfectly round arse.
‘I love you, Max,’ she whispers into our kiss.
A shiver rushes through me as those words fuck with my head. I devour her sweet-talking lips, fucking eat her mouth, sucking and tonguing her, wanting to taste every inch of the place those words came from. Claim every inch. It’s just a fucking word, but when it sounds like a purr – husky and soft and breaking with sentimentality – it makes a damn fool out of me.
Because I’m starting to believe in it. The more a part of my life and world she becomes, the more I expect her to turn and run, but she never does. She stays by my side. My pillar of goodness. If that isn’t what the word means, then I don’t know what.
I didn’t choose this last name, this legacy to uphold. An empire to help my family build and protect. To help my brother one day rule. But I have chosen Cassidy. The one thing that I’ll keep for myself in amongst all this grit and shit.
I may not be able to give her the fairy-tale.
But she gives me a break from this nightmare.
And I’m a selfish bastard, so I’ll fucking take it.
I climb onto the bed with her wrapped around me.
I fuck her slowly all night.
