Chapter 22: : Chapter 22

I’m grateful Sage was surprisingly calm about the situation and didn’t tell anyone at work about it. I’ve learned to go without friends all my life, and it wouldn’t be difficult to stay that way, but while I’m in New York I’d like to keep at least one.

I’m so used to coming in and out of people’s lives that it makes sense to not become attached. It’s six in the evening when I return home from my shift, so I decide to call the only person who is irreplaceable to me. I put it on speaker as I shuffle out of my work clothes and put on some comfy jeans and a loose tank top. I fling my bra across the room, finally free.

Craig answers on the first ring. “Lonely in the big city, kid?”

“No, I just wanted to make sure your brain hasn’t rotted from all the television you’re watching these days.” I sit on my bed and cross my ankles. He chuckles, and I can’t help but smile.

My room is still a mess from yesterday. The sunflowers are scattered about, and the ring box glares at me from the corner of the room. I should probably pick both up. “I just got myself into a predicament,” I admit as I start biting the skin around my nails, an old habit I tried to kick but can’t seem to do. Especially lately.

“Hopefully not boy trouble.” He laughs, and I stay silent. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” I sigh. “Boy trouble is the worst.” I roll my eyes. But “boy trouble” doesn’t seem to define what’s going on between me and Eli.

“His name?” Craig asks, and I can just imagine him walking over to his computer now, ready to search for everything he can on the man. But I have a feeling Craig won’t have to do much research. I feel the weight of his name on my tongue. I’m nervous to say it out loud because it’s as if I’m admitting to how much shit I’ve gotten myself into.

Last night, I was tipsy. Now I’m sober. The last forty-eight hours have been a whirlwind, and I can’t help but feel I’m being further backed into a cage.

“Eli Monti,” I finally say.

His breathing pauses.

“Jewel,” he growls out.

“I know.”

“He’s your target. Why are you involved with your target? You know better than that.”

“He stole my guns,” I say the words in a rush because he’s the only person in the world I can trust to have my back no matter what. He’s the only other person who knows how important those guns are to me.

“How did he get hold of your guns? Did he find out you were hired to kill him and is blackmailing you to turn on your client or something?” He sighs. “You got messy on this one. Why didn’t you just take the shot when you had the chance?”

I haven’t told Craig the full story about what the client requested—that I toy with Eli and gather information about his family. I’m barely floating through the situations Eli drags me through, let alone having the time to think how the fuck I’m going to get out of this mess.

“That’s not all,” I say, swallowing and glancing back over to the ring box that I haven’t yet opened. The moment I say the next words, I know it’ll be set in stone. That I’m royally fucked. “I’m engaged to Eli Monti.”

I hear something drop, and know he’s already pacing the room. I bite the skin surrounding my nails, holding my breath. I know his mind is working busily, just like mine, but I haven’t had time to fucking think. Eli Monti is all-consuming.

“How? How can you be engaged to this man?”

“He stole my guns, and in order to get them back, he wants a contract where I marry him. He’ll pay me as well… fifty million dollars.”

“Fucking hell, Jewel, you should have put the bullet in his head the minute he discovered your identity. Fifty million isn’t a small amount, but is it really worth marrying into a mafia family? And you’ll have a target on your back for reneging on your client’s terms. It’ll ruin your career. Just kill the fucker and forget about the guns. I have one of your father’s guns here. I’ll let you have that.”

“It’s not his favorite one, though,” I say quietly. No, his favorite is the Barrett M82. It’s the same sniper rifle I’ve used for all my long-distance shots. Defeated, I admit, “He also stole one of the knives you gave me for my birthday last year.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the knives, Jewel. And your father wouldn’t care about his guns either. His favorite were the guns that kept you safe. Not when they’re putting you in danger.”

I wipe my eyes even though there are no tears coming out. The last time I cried was at his funeral, and I’ll be fucked if I let a man like Eli Monti push me so far into a corner to break me all over again.

I know something like my guns might seem silly to others, but they’re literally all I have. I didn’t have a happy upbringing. I had a mother who looked at me with disgust and a father who taught me how to survive in a man’s world. And then I was left behind to make my way through that world. There is no one and nothing left for me.

Only that gun collection… and Craig.

“End it. Don’t dig yourself deeper,” Craig says carefully.

I feel tired. It’s been so long since I’ve actually made a kill shot that I miss the empowering buzz. I feel less than mortal lately, and it fucking sucks. But one thing I adamantly cannot do is let anyone else win. I’ll die with my fucking pride. I won’t back down just because Eli thinks he can take from me and control me. I roll my shoulders defiantly. No man will break me—especially not a Monti.

“I want them, Craig. I’ll do the job, and once it’s done, I won’t ever come back to this city,” I say more to myself than him. I love Craig, and I usually take his advice. But the guns? They are non-negotiable. And I hate that Eli figured that out so quickly.

“Use those brains your father gave you. Don’t be reckless,” he implores. I smirk at that because we both know reckless is my middle name. A knock on the front door startles me. Jenny isn’t here to answer it, so I jump off my bed.

“Thanks, Craig. I’ll keep you updated. If you don’t hear from me, I’m probably dead.”

“That’s not even funn—” I hang up on him as I open the door, and my stomach drops through the floor. What the fuck?

The woman standing before me wears a pinstripe suit and black heels, and her hair is perfectly tied back. Those almost silver eyes stare back at me, and I’m in shock as I look at the powerful woman who was on the television only hours ago, discussing matters of her recently closed case.

Rya fucking Monti is standing at my door.

Her gaze sweeps up me, though it gives nothing away. “Jewel Diamond?”

“Speaking.” Embarrassment rushes through me. “I mean, yes, that’s me, ma’am.” Ma’am? Why the fuck am I calling her ma’am?

She quirks a tight smile.

If I thought Eli was intimidating, he has nothing on his mother.

She steps into my apartment without invitation, which is apparently something that must run in their family.

“Do you know who I am?” she asks, looking around. She doesn’t seem as amused as her son was only days ago when he first walked in.

Fuck, why is she here? Does she know about the hit on her son?

“Yes.” I nod. “You’re Mrs. Monti.”

“Good. And I know who you are. So, why are you marrying my son?” Her heavy gaze slides back over to me and then down to the bare ring finger on my left hand.

Shit. Talk about putting a woman on the spot. How do I tell her I’m only marrying her son because he offered me a large sum of money and he stole all my guns? I’m sure that’s not the story he wants me to tell her. And to be honest, I hate lying, but it’s something I’m going to have to do if I ever want to see my guns again. It doesn’t make it any easier to square up against this woman who oozes intimidation and a cunning intellect.

Or maybe it’s because I’ve never had to deal with anyone’s mother.

“He asked me,” I say simply, which is the truth, so technically I’m not lying.

“Yes, I gathered that much. But it’s unlike my son to keep secrets. Especially of this magnitude. Are you the reason he killed two men in the restaurant last night and finally got rid of the Bedore girl?”

I try not to show my surprise at her clear dislike for Michelle. Okay, maybe I could like Rya a little more as a badass bitch. But right now, as the mother of my… fiancé, she’s really busting my balls.

When I don’t speak, she considers me. “My son, although headstrong, is not usually so reckless. Or he’s better at hiding his misdeeds.”

“That’s a polite way to say his murders,” I joke.

A silence fills the air, but the corners of her lips twitch.

“Would you like to explain how you found this address, Mother?” Eli’s voice booms from the doorway.

Oh, fuck me. Is this family reunion day? I don’t know if I can handle Eli Monti in here as well. I should’ve shut the door behind her, but I didn’t think she’d be here for so long.

Rya picks at an imaginary piece of fluff on her suit jacket.

“You were acting strange this morning, so I looked into it, and it led to me discovering a recently purchased ring and this address you’ve now frequented more than once. Including last night. And it would appear Jewel hasn’t denied being your fiancée, which confirms my suspicions.” Damn, I walked straight into her confession without even realizing it. How am I feeling like the misplaced one in my own home right now? “Why didn’t you tell us you were dating someone, let alone how serious it is?”

This time, her gaze lands on her son, and I can see the hurt there. I say nothing as Eli walks over to me and slides his hand around my back. I want to throttle this asshole since he’s the one who put me in this uncomfortable situation in the first place.

“Jewel and I wanted to enjoy a few days together in peace before the chaos unfolded,” he lies.

She seems somewhat sympathetic to the issue. But not so much so that she didn’t take matters into her own hands. “I wanted to meet her.” Her gaze flicks to me and then back to Eli. “To make sure you aren’t making a mistake. You know what it means to make this public.”

I should be offended, but I’m not because I know it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the amount of pressure they must carry with the Monti name. I still don’t give a fuck.

“You think I have the capability to make a mistake?” he asks. I scoff at that, and both of them turn their attention to me. My eyes open wider when I realize my noise was audible.

“No, son. I know I raised you right. But not everyone has good intentions,” she says matter-of-factly. And I can attest that I am the definition of not having good intentions toward her son.

“Next week, we’ll set up a dinner. You can sit down and grill Jewel all you want. But for this week, Mother, we want it kept private. Just to enjoy each other before everyone else takes hold.” He leans in and kisses his mother’s cheek. When he pulls away, she nods her head agreeably.

“Pleasure, Jewel. I look forward to getting to know you. I’m sure you’re aware that our family is… a little different.”

“Oh, I can tell how different your son is,” I reply with a sweet smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. Nevertheless, it seems to humor her, and she takes her leave. The moment Eli closes the door behind her, he grabs my left hand.

“Why aren’t you wearing the ring? Please don’t tell me you hocked it with my watches.”

I pull back my hand. “I’ll have you know, I have better things to do than admire all the pretty things I steal from you. I don’t orbit around your existence.”

“Jewel,” he growls. “Where is the ring?” He storms past me and into my bedroom. I sigh, my shoulders sagging. Here, I thought I’d have a delightful evening with me and my vibrator. “On the floor? Really? And why are these flowers scattered all over the place? Are sunflowers not your favorite anymore?”

He’s making a fuss in my room as he basically starts cleaning it. I lean against the doorframe, smirking at the way he’s all flustered. If I keep acting like a slob, he might break the engagement off just for that alone.

He shakes his head, frustrated with the mess, and opens the box in front of me. It’s the first time I’m seeing the blue square-cut diamond that’s twice the size of my fingernail with a white gold band. Damn, that’s excessive.

He reaches for my hand, but I immediately pull back. “Jewel. A deal is a deal, is it not?” he asks, raising a brow. A shiver runs down my spine, and I feel like I’m breaking out in a rash.

I don’t want it.

I know it’s a façade, but even so… I don’t want to belong to anyone.

“Now that my mother knows about us, it’ll only raise suspicions if you’re not wearing a ring. Fight with me, not against me, if you want your guns back,” he says. I try to swallow the lump that seems lodged in my throat.

“Get on your knees,” I find myself saying.

“Sorry?” His eyebrows shoot up. It’s as if the command is so foreign, and he’s never had a person in his life tell him what to do. So I lean into it comfortably.

“On your knees. If you’re proposing, you’ll do it properly,” I tell him, hoping my demand will be enough for him to end this ridiculousness.

He seems to contemplate the power play for a moment, then slowly drops to his knee, and my heart stops. Eli stares up at me. He opens his mouth and then closes it. Just when I think he won’t do it, he clears his throat and looks at me with determination. He holds my left hand in his as he lifts the ring between us. “Jewel Diamond, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

I can’t breathe. And for once, he actually asked. Didn’t command or demand.

“I’d rather not,” I say, attempting the most neutral tone possible and failing miserably.

His jaw tics. “Work with me here, not against me,” he says again as he slides the ring onto my finger. I expect to go up in flames the moment it touches my skin, but nothing happens. In fact, I can’t look away from it. I also notice the way Eli strokes my hand as if trying to offer comfort.

It might as well be a collar around my neck.

“Would you like me to do something else while I’m down on my knees in front of you, fiancée?”

I smile as I feather my fingers through his hair and pull him up so he’s standing. He chuckles as I tug on his hair. “No. I would like you to leave now, fiancé.”

When I release him, he takes a step back but doesn’t leave. I’m too preoccupied staring at the ring to berate him about it.

He sits cross-legged on my bed expectantly.

“Get your boots off my bed; that’s disgusting.” I smack his foot.

“It’s not so nice, is it?” he cockily says, and I realize he intentionally did it because I put my feet on his dashboard last night. “We need to get our basics in order before we publicly announce our engagement. My parents have been wanting me to marry for a while now, but with how suddenly I’ve organized this myself, they might be slightly suspicious. Under no circumstances can they know this is a temporary arrangement. We need to get our story straight before dinner with my family because they will grill you.”

“I know enough about you,” I state. “Where you like to go, who you like to fuck.”

He grabs my wrist with lightning speed and pulls me onto his lap. His fingers feather through my hair and then twist, keeping me in place.

“Yes, we’ve established how you like to watch,” he says in a gravelly voice, and I try to slow my racing heart. My fake fiancé shouldn’t have this kind of effect on me, especially because I hate everything about him.

His cock thickens and gradually pushes more firmly against my ass. Electricity dances along my skin as I think about how he had me pinned against the wall last night. How his fingers felt inside of me at Lucy’s. My gaze dips to his lips. Nope, I can’t do this again. When I look back into his eyes, I realize he’s staring at my lips as he says, “What’s my favorite meal?”

I can’t even think straight as his cock continues to strain against his pants and against me.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” I whisper.

“One day, it’ll be your cunt,” he says, and heat flashes straight to my core.

It’d be so easy. Too easy to slip into this tension and let him ravish me. But I can’t let him win.

Can I?

“You wish,” I say, but it’s barely a whisper.

He kicks up an arrogant smile as he loosens his grip around my hair but keeps me in place. His hand trails to my exposed midriff and finds the edge of the tattoo. He runs his thumb over it, and goose bumps erupt over my skin.

“I cooked it for you the other day,” he says distractedly, clearly more interested in my tattoo.

“The chicken?” I ask, and he nods.

I wonder what it would be like if his fingers trailed lower if I just gave in to this tension and got him out of my system.

“My grandfather used to make it for me.” I remain silent, and he meets my eyes, licking his lips. “What’s yours?”

“I’m vegan,” I say with a grin.

A slow smile spreads on his face, and it’s hard to believe this man is a monster. Something so brilliant and beautiful is truly criminal. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

I swallow hard.

“Cinnamon roll,” I admit, unsure where to put my hands. I don’t want to put them anywhere on him because I’m not sure if I’ll be able to control myself, so I put them on my legs, and I hate how submissive it makes me feel. He seems to notice.

“Why?” he asks.

I sigh, uncomfortable with all the questions. “Do we really have to do this?”

“Yes. Unless you plan on fucking this up for the both of us and not getting your guns back.” And the asshole has come back with a vengeance. All my curiosity about his very hard cock pressing into my jeans is gone. But I suppose it doesn’t matter telling him this much. It won’t do anything to hurt me.

“My father would take me out on Saturdays for shooting practice. He would get a coffee for himself and a hot chocolate for me, and the cinnamon roll would be a treat we shared. My father was strict when it came to eating clean and nurturing the body. So every time I think of the cinnamon roll I think of a treat and my time spent with him.”

I grow irritated at the idea that I’m becoming more vulnerable around him bit by bit.

I hate that I told him that.

I hate that I took this job.

I want my guns back, and I want to leave.

Fuck this city, and fuck Eli Monti.

“You get these hard lines on your forehead when you’re mad at me, did you know?” He lightly flicks my forehead. I swat his hand away and flip him off.

“So why don’t we make a lasting memory? Join me for a job this evening.”

“I’m busy.” I go to push off him, but he holds me in place. He grabs my jaw, and his thumb strokes against it gently. And I know I’m royally fucked with Eli because I should not be attracted to the man currently holding me prisoner in his arms, let alone sitting on his very hard cock right now.

“What if I told you it involves guns?” he asks in a mischievous tone. I can feel the excitement light within me, but try my hardest to cover it.

“What job?” I ask nonchalantly. His rough thumb trails over my bottom lip, and I inhale a sharp breath.

“Just a boring debt collection.”

I roll my eyes. “How very mafia of you.”

“How very smartass of you. I’ll even reward you with a gift of your liking.”

I lean back skeptically. “What’s the catch?”

“You’re my fiancée; there is no catch.”

“The catch is being your fiancée,” I sass back.

The corner of his mouth tilts upward just a bit. “You can’t tell me you’re not the least bit curious about mafia things, Kitten.” He leans in and inhales my scent. “You reek of recklessness and poor choices.”

I can’t help but chuckle as I push against him. “Aww, my fiancé really sees me. Still sounds stupid if you ask me.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t. You might want to put those tight leathers on again.” He slowly pushes me off and heads for the door, adjusting his cock on his way out, expecting me to follow him. I wring my hands in the air, wanting to throttle this asshole. Then the ring catches the light, and I’m reminded all over again of the horror show of being someone’s fiancée.

I stare at his broad back as he looks around the living room once again. I guess he’s used to people following him and still hasn’t realized I’m not the type.