Not Mine to Keep: Chapter 16

Me: Tell me you’re okay.

After ten minutes and still no response from my text to Alessandro, I went into the en suite bathroom and started the tub, prepared to take my second bath that day in the hope that it’d somehow calm my nerves. Drown out my wild, panicked thoughts. Well, technically it was after midnight, so it was a new day. My wedding day, dammit.

I double-checked the door to ensure it was locked, then texted him again. Of course, I’d called, too, but the line kept going to voicemail.

Me: I’m worried. I know Esposito is dead. But I also heard Rocco’s in Rome. Please, please tell me you’re okay.

Nothing.

If he was fine, why wouldn’t he message me? Call me?

I removed my cotton pajamas that had cute little bananas with sunglasses on them (a gag gift from a coworker) and tossed them and my plain cotton underwear on the counter. I’d packed the least sexy nightwear I had, preferring no one in Armani’s home ever see me in anything I’d normally wear to bed—an oversize sports tee and panties.

One more check of my phone before I went into the clawfoot tub, goose bumps forming all over my skin. With my foot, I stretched my leg, turning the water on at full blast to help fill it quicker, then startled at the knock on the door.

Another loud knock, followed by, “It’s me,” had me bolting from the bath.

There was only one “it’s me” I had been waiting for, and I’d never expected him to show up outside my door. “Coming,” I called out, getting my voice to work as I snatched a towel.

Quickly wrapping myself up, I unlocked the door and flung it open with a little too much excitement.

Alessandro’s head was bowed, eyes closed, and he had his hands set on the exterior doorframe, leaning forward a bit like he might collapse right into the bathroom.

“You okay?” Clutching the towel to my chest with one hand, I took the chance and reached for his arm, but he groaned and immediately dropped to one knee as if I’d accidentally touched the one Jenga piece that’d caused the whole structure to collapse.

“I’m fine,” he sputtered as I went down with him. He fell back onto his heels and slammed his hand to the wall by the bathroom door, placing me nearly in his lap now. His hand rested on the crotch of his suit pants, mere inches from my towel.

“You don’t look fine. How’d you even get here?”

“I had to see you. They said not to come, but I’m . . . stubborn.” He sounded drunk, which didn’t make sense. I didn’t smell booze on him, and I didn’t take him for the kind of guy to need to get hammered after killing people. “I had to see you for myself. Make sure you’re . . . you’re all right.”

“I’m good. But are you? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.” I walked my hand up his arm, finding something soft beneath the fabric of his shirt. Bandage?

He looked up at me for a moment before his head fell forward like it was deadweight. “The doctor stuck me with a needle, even though I didn’t want it. I’m just . . . drugged.” He slowly worked to lift his chin again, just enough to find my eyes, then eased his face close to mine. “Mmm.” He closed his eyes, and I was pretty sure he inhaled my scent. “You smell good.”

A little lightheaded myself from the proximity of his mouth to mine and his husky words, I had to force myself to refocus. “Why are you drugged? Did you get hurt?”

“Yeah, but I don’t even take cold meds. I’m not good with any kind of drugs.” A slight lift of his lips gave a hint of a smile as he appeared to fight to get his eyes open but was failing. He really was out of it. “Call medicine my kryptonite. Funny, right? I can kill a guy, but a little fentanyl will take me out.”

Hoping the towel would remain snug in place, I freed both my hands to hold his cheeks, attempting to angle his face so I could get a better look at him. “What happened?” This couldn’t only be a reaction to pain meds.

“I got distracted by Esposito’s wife,” he murmured. “I couldn’t kill her husband in front of her. I hesitated and . . . Well, the woman shot me, and Enzo disarmed her while Constantine finished the job of killing her husband.”

“What?” I gasped. “You were shot? Where?”

“Just nicked my arm. No big deal. It’s the broken glass the doctor had to remove from my back and hitting my head pretty hard on the table that stings a bit.”

“You also might have a concussion?” This was getting worse and worse. “How’d you get glass in your back?” I let go of his face and began working at the buttons of his shirt. Someone must’ve changed his clothes because the material looked intact.

“Armani’s people won’t let me stay here,” he said instead of answering me, then snatched my hand, stopping me from finishing the job of removing his shirt. He peered at me, eyes open again, but I doubted for long. “I only have a few minutes with you. My brothers are outside waiting. But everyone’s okay. Constantine had a close call with the police, and Rocco was there, but we’re okay. And Gabriel gave me the happy fucking news we’re getting married.”

Happy? Sure you are. “Did Rocco see you there?”

“We fought, yeah. And as much as I wanted him dead, we need him alive so he can lead us to his father.” He pushed away from the wall and brought his hand to my face, smoothing the pad of his thumb along the contour of my cheek. “You see, Rocco and my family have a history, and this is our chance to finally get to him and his old man.”

I went still at his confession, and it was an admission, wasn’t it? He’d never have shared that if not for the so-called kryptonite and possible concussion. “What are you saying? You’re only helping me to get to him? Is this a revenge thing for you?” And why’d my voice break?

“It’s complicated. But your safety is my priority. Getting revenge for what Rocco did to my brother four years ago is a by-product of your situation.”

Only a man like Alessandro could be off his game and use words like by-product of your situation. Not that I know you well enough to make that observation.

He hung his head again, and when his arm fell, so did the towel.

I was so stunned by the revelation about Rocco, it took me time to grab it myself. Not that him seeing me naked was my biggest problem.

“You have beautiful breasts,” he said groggily, eyes falling closed—probably not on purpose—as I resecured the towel back in place. “And a beautiful smile. And eyes. And that voice—not just when I heard you sing, but when your sweet southern mouth opens at all, it’s perfect. Fuck, it’s so perfect,” he semi-slurred, but his words still came out sexy and raspy.

Also, he was showering me in unnecessary, drug-induced compliments, so it was hard not to feel something in response.

He opened his eyes again, blinking a few times to get the lids to stay parted. “Well, you’re just beautiful all around, aren’t you?”

Unsure how to react to this tough guy acting like he’d been shot by Cupid’s arrow, I forced myself to focus. Well, to try and get him to focus. “I want to know more about this thing with Rocco, but right now doesn’t seem to be the time.” I set my back to the wall by the bathroom door, not sure what to do next. Telling him about Armani’s consummation demands didn’t sound like the best plan now, either.

“I have to go.” He attempted to stand, but nope, that wasn’t happening. How’d he even get up the stairs on his own? For that matter, hadn’t I locked the bedroom door?

“Easy there, big guy. You need help.” I set my hands on his chest in the hope that would stop him from trying to get up. “Gabriel?” I called out, assuming he had to be waiting outside in the hall.

The door opened a moment later, and Gabriel grimaced at the sight of Alessandro on the floor and started our way. “Never seen him like this before.” He knelt alongside him, and I did the same on the other side, and we both helped Alessandro to his feet, but the muscular man was heavy.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” Alessandro grumbled in a drunken-like tone, peering at Gabriel. “She’s in a towel. It could fall off again.”

“Yeah, well, I need to get you to your brothers before they storm the place, looking for you,” Gabriel said, eyes on me with a light shake of the head. “I need someone else to help get him down the stairs. He’s worse now than when he came up.” He pointed to the bed with his chin. “Let’s have him sit for a second. I’ll be right back with help.”

“Okay,” I said in agreement, and it was a miracle we got him to the bed.

After Gabriel left, I focused on my future husband, a hundred questions cutting through my mind, but I needed to wait for answers.

“I’d pick you, you know.” Alessandro set his hand on my bare thigh and lightly squeezed. “Just like Constantine did for me tonight.” He hadn’t exactly slurred that time, but what was he trying to say?

I looked up at him, shocked he was still sitting upright.

“I’d choose you over revenge.” His head bobbed a bit, as if it were too heavy for his neck and he’d soon nod off. “I’ll protect your life with my own. Always.” He eased his hand free from my thigh, turned in toward me, and cupped my chin, and in a low, almost sad tone, he said, “But don’t trust me when it comes to your heart, okay?”