Delilah has been different ever since the kidnapping. She’s been closer to me and more affectionate, and I’ve been the same. I don’t hide how I feel in front of my men. I can’t. I won’t. She’s changed me, and I have become softer. There’s no denying that. She deserves softness, silk, and velvet. I want to give her all of that.
I also want to give her some responsibility in this life. The last thing I want is for her to feel like she has no decisions in how our world works. So right now, we’ll talk to Ryan Romano, the teen who ran from his father’s clutches—who isn’t his father. Poor kid probably doesn’t know who his father is.
We haven’t seen much of him since he came to us. He stays in his room. Marie brings him food, or he wouldn’t eat. I don’t want him to think he is a prisoner here. He isn’t. If he is going to be here, I want him to feel welcome. The last thing I want is for him to feel afraid of everyone in this house, so I want Delilah to speak to him. After that, I’m going to take her to school so she can talk to her professor to see if she can make up her exam.
I also plan to surprise her with a visit to her father. She deserves to speak to him. While I want to be the only man in her life, I know that eventually she will come to resent that mindset. I can’t live with that knowledge. Her well-being and happiness are all I care about now. No matter what her father has done, she still loves him. She’ll need him in her life, especially with the baby. She’ll never forgive me if I kept our child away from his or her grandfather.
If there is one thing I won’t live with, it’s her hating me.
Now that I’ve experienced her love, nothing else will satisfy me. Her love is like fresh air after being drowned in hate and darkness. There’s no replacing that. It’s impossible to think anything could come close to the feeling of freedom she gives me.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, handing her a fruit smoothie with whipped cream on top. I didn’t ask Marie to make the drink—I wanted to. I want to pamper Delilah myself, so she feels my love.
“Sleepy,” she grumbles as she plops on the barstool. “And I’m wondering if everything that happened was real? I’m hoping it was a terrible nightmare. I can’t understand why this would happen, and why I matter so much so someone who doesn’t even know me. I was scared,” she admits, rambling in her sleep-filled voice.
I bet she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. Her eyes are still half closed, and a yawn interrupts her.
“I can’t get him out of my head. He was crazy. I’ve never met anyone like him. People like that should only exist in movies, but I know now that they don’t. He would have cut me up. He would have—”
“He wouldn’t have had the chance to touch you, Sweetling.” I turn her face by cupping her jaw. “I will always come to you in time. I will always save you.”
“But what if you can’t?” she whispers, the question breaking my heart. I hate that fear has been instilled in her now.
“You never have to worry about that.”
“Carmine, you don’t know if you will get to me in time!” she shouts, slamming her palms on the counter. “You don’t know.” The words are a whisper. “No matter how much you wish otherwise. You don’t know.”
“I do know. That is one thing I always know. Look at me.”
She doesn’t.
In a move I can’t help but love it because it makes her submit to me, my hand naturally wraps around her throat and squeezes.
I see it. The relief. The way her eyes shut, and her shoulders rise with every breath she takes.
“Look. At. Me.” The demand is sardonic and her eyes fly open. Her fear and vulnerability are clear as day in the gorgeous pools of her irises. Not in fear of me after what has happened. “I will always fucking be there. Do you understand? I will always save you. I will always protect what is mine.” I bring my lips to hers, not kissing her, but to make my promise known. “You. Are. Mine. Delilah.” I tighten my grip and she gasps. “I will spare my life to get to you. Make no mistake; there is nothing and no one that will ever get in my way to having you safe in my arms.”
She presses her lips to mine in a kiss, the smallest sob escaping her, and I swallow it down quickly so no one can hear.
“Wow, hey, I don’t want to see that. Gross.” Ari laughs.
I break away from Delilah and narrow my eyes at my brother.
“Kidding. Lighten up.” His attention falls to Delilah. “You look like crap, sis.” Ari sits next to her and tugs on a piece of her knotted hair after a restless sleep.
She kept having nightmares. I feel like we’ve switched places. She calmed my nightmares, and now hers are just beginning.
“Shut up.” She slaps his hand away and pulls her hair into a messy bun on top of her head.
I love it when she does that. She looks so beautiful, but it’s the comfort I like the most.
“I’m just kidding. You’re pretty and stuff.” Ari boops her nose, and she rolls her eyes.
“I feel like you’re a child,” I say, pouring Ryan a smoothie.
See? I’m welcoming. I’m a nice-ish guy. I can do…things.
“Growing up sucks. Who wants to do that?” Ari stretches his arm back and winces, but he looks better than he did. He has color to his face again and is no longer taking pain medicine.
“You have great movement in your shoulder,” Delilah notices, taking the straw between her lips.
I’m reminded of yesterday when I got to feel them around my cock, and I had to hold in a grumble of pleasure. I want nothing more than to throw her in bed and have my way with her. Ever since she’s been pregnant, my appetite for her has increased to dangerous levels.
The thought of her growing my child, completely full of me, of us, it unlocks something very primal inside me.
“Thanks. Granted the botch job that was done.” He grins, teasing her a bit before getting up and heading over to the coffee pot, but even hearing the tease in his tone, her eyes well with tears.
“I did the best I could with what I had. I’m sorry,” she sasses, but she’s hiding her emotions. Her tears cause her eyes to become glassy. In true Delilah form, she does her best to make sure not one tear falls.
“Fucking fix it. Now. If one tear falls, I’ll burn you with the same poker,” I say to him.
Ari frowns and heads over to her, taking her hand in his. “Listen to me. Hey, come on, look at me.” He sounds so serious. I’ve never heard him use that kind of tone before. She finally gives him her attention. “I appreciate what you did. You saved my life. I’m only ever teasing you, and I’m sorry. You did everything you could; without you, I would have died. I don’t care how gnarly my scar looks. I’m standing here because of you. I’m alive because of you. Anything I say to get a rise out of you, ignore me. I’m an asshole, but I’m a thankful asshole. You’ve come to mean a lot to me, Delilah. You’re the sister I wished I had instead of my brothers.”
She giggles at last, and my chest loosens with relief. I don’t ever want to see her cry. I always want her to be happy, and Ari, with his big mouth, will probably make her cry more often now, especially since she’s pregnant.
‘You aren’t allowed to cry,” Ari states. “You’re cooking my niece, and she needs to be happy.”
“Cooking? Really?” He drives me nuts.
“What? She’s cooking. She’s baking. She’s doing something I can’t do.”
Delilah takes a sip of her smoothie. “How do you know it’s a girl?”
“She needs to be because another man in this house is going to drive me crazy. I want to have pretend tea parties. Kids are fun. Adults suck. It better be a girl, Delilah,” he points at her. “I won’t accept anything else.”
She slides off the barstool and comes to my side. I wrap my arms around her and kiss her cheek. “Well, don’t be mad at me. That isn’t up to me. That was up to him. If boys run in the family, which seems to be the case, then I’m sure we will have a boy. You can still have tea parties with him.”
“But it won’t be as fun without the outfits, Delilah. The tutus, crowns, and then the cute stuffed animals around the table. That’s the fun stuff.”
“You’ve thought about this a lot.”
“Well, maybe I have,” he sasses back at me, exiting the kitchen in a blaze.
Delilah chuckles. “He’s something else.”
“He’s something,” I mumble. “Ready to go see Ryan?”
She nods, taking the smoothie out of my hand, and I follow her from the kitchen, down the steps, and then down the darkened hallway where the suites are. Every member who lives here has their own room.
Delilah finds the third door on the left and knocks. “Ryan? It’s Delilah. I brought you a smoothie.”
There’s a rustling behind the door, and a second later, it swings open, showing an exhausted Ryan. He has dark circles under his eyes, but his smile seems genuine. His gaze shifts me, and his smile falters.
“Mr. Milazzo, how are you?”
“I’m good, Ryan. How are you doing?”
“I’m okay. Thank you for bringing me breakfast. I’m starving.” He takes the glass from Delilah and bypasses the straw, gulping down half the smoothie.
“Ryan, I wanted to ask you a few things.” Delilah enters the room, and I’m right behind her.
“You can shut the door, Ryan. We need privacy for this conversation.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. I don’t want anyone listening in on our conversation. I have told Delilah what I would like her to asked, questions I believe will be easier coming from her than me.
Ryan swallows, wiping the corner of his mouth. “Right,” he whispers, his hand trembles as he grabs the handle and shuts the door.
I look him over to make sure he’s okay. His bruises have faded to pale yellow, and he has a small scar near his eye from where Delilah had to relieve the pressure. A lot of blood poured out, but the swelling immediately went down. He seems like he is on the mend, but I don’t like that he stays in his room alone so much. He came here for sanctuary and has yet to treat this house as his home.
“You aren’t a prisoner, Ryan. You’re able to come and go as you please,” Delilah informs him.
He stares at his feet,
scratches the back of his head and he nods. “I have nowhere to go. I’m afraid they will find me and kill me if I leave. I’m only safe in this room. This is it for me.”
“Romano has been very quiet since my kidnapping.” Delilah begins to tiptoe toward what I want her to ask. “Do you know why? I thought you said he had a plan.”
Ryan’s brows pinch together as he thinks, taking a seat on the bed. “He does. He did, from what I heard. His plan fell through if the man he hired to kidnap you went off the rails. I know he wanted you alive, and from what I understand, you said this guy wanted to kill you, right?”
Delilah snorts. “To kill me and chop me up into bits.”
I growl, wishing I could kill that asshole all over again. Delilah pats my arm when Ryan flinches.
Ryan takes another drink of his smoothie. “You’re worth more to Romano alive than you are dead. He wanted to make a show of having you. You’d earn him money.” He flicks his attention to me and winces. “I’m sorry. I don’t like saying things like that in front of you, Mr. Milazzo.”
“It’s okay. All information is good information.” I try to keep my mouth shut so Delilah can lead the conversation. Ryan is afraid of me, and it’s best to remain calm and collected.
“Do you know why he’s been quiet?” Delilah asks, her voice gentle and kind. It washes over me like a warm blanket, and I’m less stressed after I hear it.
“His attempt to kidnap you failed. You lived. He’s probably hiding to buy some time to figure out his next move.” His leg begins to shake with anxiety, and he rolls his head over his shoulders.
Delilah takes his hand, holds on to it, and takes a deep breath to calm herself. “Do know where he would hide? Even his docks have been empty. No boats, no merchandise in or out, there’s nothing. It’s like he disappeared.”
“I’m so sorry I don’t know. If I did, I’d tell you. I’d tell you in a heartbeat because I hate him. I want him dead. I never got that information. Anything I know is because I listened when I wasn’t supposed to. I wouldn’t let your guard down. He’s out there. He’s waiting for the right time. And now that you’re pregnant, he will only want you more.”
“I won’t let him get near her,” I sneer, and Ryan flinches at my tone.
Delilah switches gears. “Well, I get to leave the house today and go on a little adventure. Do you want to come with us? Carmine will be there, along with Matias. We will be protected. I think it will be good for you to get out of the house.”
Ryan chews on his thumbnail as he thinks, then crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t know. It’s safe here. I like safe. I’ve never been safe before. There’s no one here taking—” He shuts his eyes and shudders. “I haven’t been touched. I like my room.”
“We don’t want you to think you’re unwanted here. You can come upstairs and socialize. It is your new start in life. Come with us today, and then you can stay in your room all night.”
Ryan stares at her for a minute and agrees. “Okay.”
“She’s pretty persuasive when she wants to be.” I can’t hide how proud I am of her. “Just to be sure, there’s nowhere you can think of where Romano would go?”
“No, I’m sorry. I was…” his throat bobs, and his cheeks turn pink. “I was kept in a windowless room. I slept on the floor on a thin mattress with a ratty blanket. I wasn’t allowed to know anything that happened in the organization. I was kept away from it all. From everyone.”
“Oh.” Delilah throws herself at Ryan, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. “That won’t happen here with us. Don’t lock yourself away here. Promise me you’ll try to give yourself a chance.”
“I promise.” Ryan lifts his arms, unsure of what to do with them until finally, he wraps them around her.
The poor kid is touch starved—for positive touch. His fingers curl into her back, and he holds onto her for dear life, burying his face in her shoulder.
He doesn’t want to let go.
I wait for the jealousy, my possessive nature to burst free, but it doesn’t. The kid needs someone, and there isn’t anyone better than Delilah.
“We’re leaving in a few minutes. Meet us upstairs.”
“Yes, Mr. Milazzo,” he says, still not letting go of Delilah. As Ryan squeezes his eyes shut, a tear drips free, and I have to look away.
Suddenly, I want to find anyone who has ever hurt him, or allowed him to be hurt, and wipe away their very existence. Somehow this kid came to mean something to me. I know what it’s like to be abused by someone who is supposed to love you. Ryan reminds me too much of myself when I was younger. I lift my hand and let it hover right above his shoulder, debating for a moment. I let it fall and squeezed his shoulder.
His eyes snap open, fear glazing from the pupil to the whites of his eyes.
“You’re safe here, Ryan. You have my word.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Milazzo. A man’s word means nothing to me.”
Delilah lets go and cups Ryan’s face like a child needing love. “I can promise that Carmine’s word is the only word you’ll ever need to trust.”
“I’ll try to believe you. It will take time.”
“I understand.” I open the door, needing to escape all this vulnerability and emotion. It’s bringing back too many memories and too much pain. I’m not good at emotions or trying to understand them. I either hate or love; I have never spent much time concentrating on anything in between.
Everything in between is nonsense and inconsistent, but with Delilah, I’m learning the feelings between hate and love are defining and leave marks.
Delilah is love.
And everything in between.
