Masked Innocence
Page 24
When his mouth finally released mine, my hands tight in his hair, I looked up, shifting against him and eliciting a quick breath from his mouth. “So? Did your fabulous plan work last night?” His earlier joviality had to have been caused by something.
“I’m working on it.”
“Well, I don’t want to be a nag or anything, but I do want to live, to graduate, to grow old with someone.”
“I know. Don’t worry, I will protect you. From now on, relax.”
I sighed, leaning against the ridges of his body, resting my head on his chest.
“What happened to the print?” His chest vibrated with the words.
“The what?”
“The print. Above my bed.”
I snorted. “Sorry. It was a little dated anyway, don’t you think?”
He laughed softly, pressing his lips against my hair. “You gonna replace it?”
I wrinkled my nose, trying to imagine me, na**d, on a fur rug, stretched out over Brad’s bed. “We can find a nice landscape or something to fill that space.” I heard Martha holler something from downstairs, and I straightened, leaving the warmth of his arms.
“Come to bed,” he commanded. “I have plans for you.” I felt his hand move up, sneaking under my tank, and I ducked away, under his arm, eliciting a frown from him.
I ignored his delicious body, lit by the morning sun. “I am about to start chewing on you if I don’t get something to eat. You can have your way with me after breakfast, if your ridiculous libido can make it that long.” I stepped backward toward the stairs, his expression changing and mischief entering his face. I spun and sprang to the stairs, thundering down them, his feet just steps behind, and we burst into the kitchen—scaring the crap out of Martha, my butt hitting a stool before he could get me.
I smiled at him smugly, grabbing a fresh strawberry from a fruit plate and popping it in my mouth. He wore dark pajama pants, no shirt and a bemused expression. It was unfair how incredible he made the combination look. He took a seat next to me and we said good morning to Martha.
Martha didn’t waste time in shelling out breakfast—warm French toast, bacon and cheese grits. I scarfed it all down, and she had seconds ready before I even had a chance to ask.
“I grabbed that plate of jambalaya still at the top of the stairs. You didn’t eat it last night?”
I shook my head sheepishly. “I was still pouting when you came up. I didn’t realize you had food.”
Her mouth thinned into a line that could only be described as petulant. “That was good jambalaya you wasted.”
“I’m sure it was. Any left over that I could eat for lunch?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Think about whether there is any left over?”
“Think about whether I’ll give you another chance at it.”
We grinned at each other and she put another piece of toast on my plate. I looked at Brad. “So, what’s the plan for today?”
He smiled at me, surprisingly cheerful despite our bleak situation. “Let me make a call. Then I’ll let you know.”
He stepped outside, onto the deep back porch, his grin disappearing, a somber fix settling on his face. He walked down the steps and through the grass to the pool. Sitting down on one of the chairs that lined the blue water, he pulled out his cell. He looked at it a moment, thinking. He had gone to bed last night confident, his arms wrapped around Julia, content in recognizing his future. One with her. A woman who had unknowingly consumed him. Love, an idea he had tossed out with every other conventional theory, had tackled him unprepared. Tackled and possibly trapped him. Julia’s blowup had terrified him. In coming to terms with his feelings, he hadn’t considered the possibility of her leaving him. Now, having stared into that reality, knowing the effect it had on him, after only this short relationship...how would he handle it after six months of dating, or marriage, or kids? He had practically been brought to his knees upstairs. There was no way he’d survive it if he fell any further. She was so young. He barely knew love, almost missed it when it came and he had years of experience on her.
She had bent. When he had lost it, failed to control his emotions, she had wavered. What would she do next time? When he failed her, when he stumbled. She would run, leaving him broken and alone.
But this wasn’t a typical situation. He could either risk his heart or risk her safety. And, when it came down to that, the choice was easy. He closed his eyes, affirming his decision. Then he made the call.
His father didn’t answer, the automated voice mail picking up instead. Brad ended the call and waited, sitting in the sun. After a few minutes his phone rang, showing a blocked number.
“Hello.”
“What is it, Bradley?”
“There has been a new wrinkle you should be aware of. Tell the boys to hold off the bloodshed until we can talk.”
“Every hour that passes is more risk, you know that. I cannot extend any more—”
“Tomorrow morning. I’ll come over for breakfast. If you don’t think the information I give you then is worth your time, you are free to act. I will never give you my blessing, but I am asking you to listen to this information.”
There was silence, crackly, then his father’s gravelly voice. “Tomorrow morning. After that you will have exhausted my courtesy.”
“I understand.” Brad pulled the phone from his ear and ended the call.
* * *
THE MAGIANO PATRIARCH hung up the phone and looked into his reflection in the ornate gold mirror in his study. He looked older, his skin grayer than it should be. He decided to sit outside this afternoon, to get some sun. He needed to take care of himself, to ensure that he would be around for a long time. Long enough to convince Bradley to return to the family, to take his rightful place as head of the organization. He was the only one intelligent enough to keep it powerful. His other two sons had allowed power to corrupt them, had lost sight of proper business sense in the illicit world of blood, competition and status. Legitimizing the businesses would weaken them, but that would be Brad’s choice. He needed to mend fences with his son before it reached the point where Brad would have that powerful decision to make. This girl threatened that possibility, with both her life and her death. Brad had always needlessly involved himself in rescue plights, had always stood in the way of the family’s proper conduction of business. But this was a different type of stand. For Brad to put himself into the equation, to throw his life on the line, put him in a difficult predicament. Difficult, but an easy decision all the same. Family came first, and she was not family. He could not risk the entire family for one son and his temporary girlfriend.
He spoke softly, but the two men in the next room heard the words. They appeared instantly, and waited to hear his orders.
“Follow them. Make sure they don’t do anything stupid. Keep a constant eye on them—I want to know everything that happens between now and tomorrow morning.”
Forty-Three
Brad came back into the kitchen, the light not quite as bright in his eyes.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
He walked over and kissed me on the head. “Everything’s fine,” he said. “What do you feel like doing today?”
I looked at him, surprised. “What can we do today? Aren’t we under house arrest?”
“No. Your day will be free of danger. What do you feel like doing?”
“Well, at some point I’d like to discuss with you the whole situation we are in.”
He waved that off. “Other than that. I promise, we will sit down and discuss that.”
“Okay...I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it. I need to do laundry and stuff.”
He stared at me. “Laundry and...stuff?”
“Yeah, like ironing, grocery shopping. I have to get ready for work tomorrow morning.”
“First of all, we don’t know if you’re going to work tomorrow.”
I held up my hand, stopping the stupid list he was starting. “Wait—you mean because I might be dead tomorrow?”
“Well...you might be in danger.”
“Okay, so not dead yet. And the whole update-me-on-the-current-status-of-my-own-mortality conversation is something you just kinda...” I waved my hand dismissively. “...tossed aside as something that we will do later. Whether you and your manliness realize it or not, I’d like to have some sort of input in the plot for my survival.” I had sidled over to him during the course of my speech, and I ended the statement by poking his iron chest with my finger.
He grabbed my finger, his eyes dark. “Don’t do that.”
I fought a grin and yanked my hand out of his. We faced off in the kitchen, his hands on his hips, my expression stern, before he broke. Sighing, he wrapped his arms across my stiff body, pulling me to him for a hug.
It was an unexpected gesture, and I fought the embrace and stayed fixed, immobile, refusing to bend to his manly charm. He tried to wrap my arms around him, but they dropped, limp like spaghetti, unwilling to cooperate. He laughed at my stubbornness, his hands becoming playful, running through my hair, down my noncompliant arms, grabbing and squeezing my clenched butt. That broke me, and I smiled despite myself.
“There you go,” he said, nuzzling my neck. “I know that you want to know what’s going on. But all I can tell you is that you are safe. They have promised to stay away until I speak with them in the morning. And in the morning, I will play a card that they don’t expect, and one that they will have no recourse against. I promise you, it will be fine.”
“What, some secret body hidden somewhere? You’re going to blackmail them?”
He scowled at me. “Nothing so barbaric, Julia. I’m the good son, remember?” He held up a hand, stopping my thought process. “Just let me handle it. Please. I ask for one day of secrecy.”
“I thought we weren’t going to have any more secrets,” I grumbled into his chest. I didn’t like it, but twenty-four hours of freedom was more than I had fifteen minutes ago. I relaxed a bit in his arms.
“It’s a good secret. So, what do you want to do today, other than laundry or some other menial errand?”
I stood on my tiptoes and put my mouth on his earlobe, biting it gently, then releasing it and giving him a suggestive smile. He grinned down at me and then dipped me back, nibbling and kissing my neck. Then he threw me over his shoulder and bounded up the stairs.
“I’m leaving for the day!” Martha called, up the stairs to Brad’s retreating back. “You hear me?” Not getting a response, she shook her head, then wiped her hands on a dish towel, grabbed her purse and headed out the door, locking it securely behind her.
* * *
BRAD DEFTLY NAVIGATED through the broken pieces of his ex and threw me down onto soft sheets. He pulled my legs to him, grabbing the waist of my skirt and sliding it and my panties down, leaving me bare and exposed.
His mouth was instantly covering me, his tongue making incredible sensations that caused my toes to clench and my breath to catch. And when I came, five minutes later, it was intense, all of my tension and emotions spilling out, turning into delicious ecstasy and liquid, amazing pleasure.
He kept his mouth on me, gradually softening the pressure from his tongue, until he did nothing but hold me in his mouth, my body occasionally twitching in postorgasm aftershocks. When he did lift his mouth, I lay useless on the bed—drained of any coherent thought or muscle response. He grabbed my skirt, using it to wipe his mouth, and I frowned at him through my euphoria. He landed next to me, and I rolled over groggily, reaching for him, for his hardness.
He pushed me away, and I frowned at him. “Not now,” he said. “You can take care of me later.”
I pouted, but relented, watching him walk to the closet. “Have you decided what you want to do today?” he called, sifting through clothes.
“Got any well-hung friends?”
He glanced over, a grin on his face, and I stuck out my tongue playfully.
“I could certainly arrange that, if that is what you are in the mood for.” He emerged from the closet, dressed casually, pulling a baseball hat onto his head. Pressing me back onto the bed, he ran his teeth over my neck, nibbling on the soft skin until I giggled.
“Stop—seriously!” I pushed him off and propped myself up on one elbow. “Ummm...what about an afternoon movie?” I glanced at the clock.
He frowned, sitting next to me and reaching for the drawer of the bedside table. “So, no afternoon gang bang?” Pulling out a watch, he slid it onto his wrist and fastened the buckle. Not waiting for a response, he leaned over, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before standing. “A movie sounds good to me. We can do some shopping and grab lunch first, if you want.”
The word shopping instantly perked me up. “That sounds good.” I rolled out of bed and grabbed the bag of clothes I had packed. I rummaged deep in the bag, finding my makeup pouch and my toothbrush. I grabbed both and joined Brad at the long counter, and we brushed our teeth in companionable silence.
“You ready?” he asked, after rinsing thoroughly.
“Five minutes,” I mumbled, through toothpaste bubbles.
He flashed a grin and headed downstairs. I flipped through the makeup bag, grabbing powder, mascara and lip gloss. Three minutes later, I stuck my phone in my pocket and bounded down the stairs.
Brad was on the phone, standing by the full-length windows that showcased the large backyard pool. Hearing my heels on the floor, he quickly ended the call and turned, whistling at my appearance. “You look great.”
“Great, but penniless. Can we stop by my house? Last time I was there, I didn’t grab my wallet.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Well, I don’t want to be a nag or anything, but I do want to live, to graduate, to grow old with someone.”
“I know. Don’t worry, I will protect you. From now on, relax.”
I sighed, leaning against the ridges of his body, resting my head on his chest.
“What happened to the print?” His chest vibrated with the words.
“The what?”
“The print. Above my bed.”
I snorted. “Sorry. It was a little dated anyway, don’t you think?”
He laughed softly, pressing his lips against my hair. “You gonna replace it?”
I wrinkled my nose, trying to imagine me, na**d, on a fur rug, stretched out over Brad’s bed. “We can find a nice landscape or something to fill that space.” I heard Martha holler something from downstairs, and I straightened, leaving the warmth of his arms.
“Come to bed,” he commanded. “I have plans for you.” I felt his hand move up, sneaking under my tank, and I ducked away, under his arm, eliciting a frown from him.
I ignored his delicious body, lit by the morning sun. “I am about to start chewing on you if I don’t get something to eat. You can have your way with me after breakfast, if your ridiculous libido can make it that long.” I stepped backward toward the stairs, his expression changing and mischief entering his face. I spun and sprang to the stairs, thundering down them, his feet just steps behind, and we burst into the kitchen—scaring the crap out of Martha, my butt hitting a stool before he could get me.
I smiled at him smugly, grabbing a fresh strawberry from a fruit plate and popping it in my mouth. He wore dark pajama pants, no shirt and a bemused expression. It was unfair how incredible he made the combination look. He took a seat next to me and we said good morning to Martha.
Martha didn’t waste time in shelling out breakfast—warm French toast, bacon and cheese grits. I scarfed it all down, and she had seconds ready before I even had a chance to ask.
“I grabbed that plate of jambalaya still at the top of the stairs. You didn’t eat it last night?”
I shook my head sheepishly. “I was still pouting when you came up. I didn’t realize you had food.”
Her mouth thinned into a line that could only be described as petulant. “That was good jambalaya you wasted.”
“I’m sure it was. Any left over that I could eat for lunch?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Think about whether there is any left over?”
“Think about whether I’ll give you another chance at it.”
We grinned at each other and she put another piece of toast on my plate. I looked at Brad. “So, what’s the plan for today?”
He smiled at me, surprisingly cheerful despite our bleak situation. “Let me make a call. Then I’ll let you know.”
He stepped outside, onto the deep back porch, his grin disappearing, a somber fix settling on his face. He walked down the steps and through the grass to the pool. Sitting down on one of the chairs that lined the blue water, he pulled out his cell. He looked at it a moment, thinking. He had gone to bed last night confident, his arms wrapped around Julia, content in recognizing his future. One with her. A woman who had unknowingly consumed him. Love, an idea he had tossed out with every other conventional theory, had tackled him unprepared. Tackled and possibly trapped him. Julia’s blowup had terrified him. In coming to terms with his feelings, he hadn’t considered the possibility of her leaving him. Now, having stared into that reality, knowing the effect it had on him, after only this short relationship...how would he handle it after six months of dating, or marriage, or kids? He had practically been brought to his knees upstairs. There was no way he’d survive it if he fell any further. She was so young. He barely knew love, almost missed it when it came and he had years of experience on her.
She had bent. When he had lost it, failed to control his emotions, she had wavered. What would she do next time? When he failed her, when he stumbled. She would run, leaving him broken and alone.
But this wasn’t a typical situation. He could either risk his heart or risk her safety. And, when it came down to that, the choice was easy. He closed his eyes, affirming his decision. Then he made the call.
His father didn’t answer, the automated voice mail picking up instead. Brad ended the call and waited, sitting in the sun. After a few minutes his phone rang, showing a blocked number.
“Hello.”
“What is it, Bradley?”
“There has been a new wrinkle you should be aware of. Tell the boys to hold off the bloodshed until we can talk.”
“Every hour that passes is more risk, you know that. I cannot extend any more—”
“Tomorrow morning. I’ll come over for breakfast. If you don’t think the information I give you then is worth your time, you are free to act. I will never give you my blessing, but I am asking you to listen to this information.”
There was silence, crackly, then his father’s gravelly voice. “Tomorrow morning. After that you will have exhausted my courtesy.”
“I understand.” Brad pulled the phone from his ear and ended the call.
* * *
THE MAGIANO PATRIARCH hung up the phone and looked into his reflection in the ornate gold mirror in his study. He looked older, his skin grayer than it should be. He decided to sit outside this afternoon, to get some sun. He needed to take care of himself, to ensure that he would be around for a long time. Long enough to convince Bradley to return to the family, to take his rightful place as head of the organization. He was the only one intelligent enough to keep it powerful. His other two sons had allowed power to corrupt them, had lost sight of proper business sense in the illicit world of blood, competition and status. Legitimizing the businesses would weaken them, but that would be Brad’s choice. He needed to mend fences with his son before it reached the point where Brad would have that powerful decision to make. This girl threatened that possibility, with both her life and her death. Brad had always needlessly involved himself in rescue plights, had always stood in the way of the family’s proper conduction of business. But this was a different type of stand. For Brad to put himself into the equation, to throw his life on the line, put him in a difficult predicament. Difficult, but an easy decision all the same. Family came first, and she was not family. He could not risk the entire family for one son and his temporary girlfriend.
He spoke softly, but the two men in the next room heard the words. They appeared instantly, and waited to hear his orders.
“Follow them. Make sure they don’t do anything stupid. Keep a constant eye on them—I want to know everything that happens between now and tomorrow morning.”
Forty-Three
Brad came back into the kitchen, the light not quite as bright in his eyes.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
He walked over and kissed me on the head. “Everything’s fine,” he said. “What do you feel like doing today?”
I looked at him, surprised. “What can we do today? Aren’t we under house arrest?”
“No. Your day will be free of danger. What do you feel like doing?”
“Well, at some point I’d like to discuss with you the whole situation we are in.”
He waved that off. “Other than that. I promise, we will sit down and discuss that.”
“Okay...I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it. I need to do laundry and stuff.”
He stared at me. “Laundry and...stuff?”
“Yeah, like ironing, grocery shopping. I have to get ready for work tomorrow morning.”
“First of all, we don’t know if you’re going to work tomorrow.”
I held up my hand, stopping the stupid list he was starting. “Wait—you mean because I might be dead tomorrow?”
“Well...you might be in danger.”
“Okay, so not dead yet. And the whole update-me-on-the-current-status-of-my-own-mortality conversation is something you just kinda...” I waved my hand dismissively. “...tossed aside as something that we will do later. Whether you and your manliness realize it or not, I’d like to have some sort of input in the plot for my survival.” I had sidled over to him during the course of my speech, and I ended the statement by poking his iron chest with my finger.
He grabbed my finger, his eyes dark. “Don’t do that.”
I fought a grin and yanked my hand out of his. We faced off in the kitchen, his hands on his hips, my expression stern, before he broke. Sighing, he wrapped his arms across my stiff body, pulling me to him for a hug.
It was an unexpected gesture, and I fought the embrace and stayed fixed, immobile, refusing to bend to his manly charm. He tried to wrap my arms around him, but they dropped, limp like spaghetti, unwilling to cooperate. He laughed at my stubbornness, his hands becoming playful, running through my hair, down my noncompliant arms, grabbing and squeezing my clenched butt. That broke me, and I smiled despite myself.
“There you go,” he said, nuzzling my neck. “I know that you want to know what’s going on. But all I can tell you is that you are safe. They have promised to stay away until I speak with them in the morning. And in the morning, I will play a card that they don’t expect, and one that they will have no recourse against. I promise you, it will be fine.”
“What, some secret body hidden somewhere? You’re going to blackmail them?”
He scowled at me. “Nothing so barbaric, Julia. I’m the good son, remember?” He held up a hand, stopping my thought process. “Just let me handle it. Please. I ask for one day of secrecy.”
“I thought we weren’t going to have any more secrets,” I grumbled into his chest. I didn’t like it, but twenty-four hours of freedom was more than I had fifteen minutes ago. I relaxed a bit in his arms.
“It’s a good secret. So, what do you want to do today, other than laundry or some other menial errand?”
I stood on my tiptoes and put my mouth on his earlobe, biting it gently, then releasing it and giving him a suggestive smile. He grinned down at me and then dipped me back, nibbling and kissing my neck. Then he threw me over his shoulder and bounded up the stairs.
“I’m leaving for the day!” Martha called, up the stairs to Brad’s retreating back. “You hear me?” Not getting a response, she shook her head, then wiped her hands on a dish towel, grabbed her purse and headed out the door, locking it securely behind her.
* * *
BRAD DEFTLY NAVIGATED through the broken pieces of his ex and threw me down onto soft sheets. He pulled my legs to him, grabbing the waist of my skirt and sliding it and my panties down, leaving me bare and exposed.
His mouth was instantly covering me, his tongue making incredible sensations that caused my toes to clench and my breath to catch. And when I came, five minutes later, it was intense, all of my tension and emotions spilling out, turning into delicious ecstasy and liquid, amazing pleasure.
He kept his mouth on me, gradually softening the pressure from his tongue, until he did nothing but hold me in his mouth, my body occasionally twitching in postorgasm aftershocks. When he did lift his mouth, I lay useless on the bed—drained of any coherent thought or muscle response. He grabbed my skirt, using it to wipe his mouth, and I frowned at him through my euphoria. He landed next to me, and I rolled over groggily, reaching for him, for his hardness.
He pushed me away, and I frowned at him. “Not now,” he said. “You can take care of me later.”
I pouted, but relented, watching him walk to the closet. “Have you decided what you want to do today?” he called, sifting through clothes.
“Got any well-hung friends?”
He glanced over, a grin on his face, and I stuck out my tongue playfully.
“I could certainly arrange that, if that is what you are in the mood for.” He emerged from the closet, dressed casually, pulling a baseball hat onto his head. Pressing me back onto the bed, he ran his teeth over my neck, nibbling on the soft skin until I giggled.
“Stop—seriously!” I pushed him off and propped myself up on one elbow. “Ummm...what about an afternoon movie?” I glanced at the clock.
He frowned, sitting next to me and reaching for the drawer of the bedside table. “So, no afternoon gang bang?” Pulling out a watch, he slid it onto his wrist and fastened the buckle. Not waiting for a response, he leaned over, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before standing. “A movie sounds good to me. We can do some shopping and grab lunch first, if you want.”
The word shopping instantly perked me up. “That sounds good.” I rolled out of bed and grabbed the bag of clothes I had packed. I rummaged deep in the bag, finding my makeup pouch and my toothbrush. I grabbed both and joined Brad at the long counter, and we brushed our teeth in companionable silence.
“You ready?” he asked, after rinsing thoroughly.
“Five minutes,” I mumbled, through toothpaste bubbles.
He flashed a grin and headed downstairs. I flipped through the makeup bag, grabbing powder, mascara and lip gloss. Three minutes later, I stuck my phone in my pocket and bounded down the stairs.
Brad was on the phone, standing by the full-length windows that showcased the large backyard pool. Hearing my heels on the floor, he quickly ended the call and turned, whistling at my appearance. “You look great.”
“Great, but penniless. Can we stop by my house? Last time I was there, I didn’t grab my wallet.”
