Page 103 of Diamond In The Rough

Alive.

Looking at me like he truly, genuinely, gives a shit. “Grá.” He releases the handle and crosses to me. Doesn’t matter who else is in here. Doesn’t matter who is outside. Or that the media vans line up for a scoop. Doesn’t matter that he’s Micah friggin’ Malone, brother to the don. And chances are, he and I will be on the six o’clock news tonight.

Nothing matters, because he’s here, and when he’s close enough to wrap me in a hug, my breath shudders out on what most others would consider a sob. “You’re crying?”

“No.” I sniffle as quietly as I can manage, wiping my cheek on his expensive suit and linking my hands around his back. Then I crush my face to his chest and just… be. For a minute, at least, before the rest of the world encroaches. “I don’t cry. Ever.”

“Okay.” Pulling back, he cups my cheeks and shows me a gentle smile. “Gave you a scare, huh? Did the guy come anywhere near you?”

I shake my head, dangling earrings tapping the sides of my neck with each swing. “Literally nowhere near me. I was being dumb when I called you.”

“I’m glad you did.” He presses a kiss to the center of my forehead and undoes me. So sweet. So protective. He leaves his lips resting against my skin, allowing me to hide. For a single, traitorous tear to roll along my cheek and down to my chin. “I kinda like that Ms. Independent needs me,” he croons. “That chick who went toe-to-toe with me outside CeCe’s, and then again in here not all that long ago, is fun and all. But this,” he rubs my back, trailing his fingertips along my spine, “this is nice, too.”

“Where’s Felix?” I hate that I have to ask. That my question makes Micah’s hand jolt for a beat. But I need to know. “Is he here?”

“He’s around.” Pulling back, he strokes my jaw and searches my eyes. “Secure. Have the cops talked to you yet?”

“Yeah. I didn’t have a lot to tell them, since I didn’t see the guy. So they just asked what I heard and wrote that down.”

“Do they have any idea who the perp was?”

I shrug, refastening my arms around his wide frame and resting my cheek over his heart. I know he carries guns; I feel them under his jacket. I know a knife nestles in his pocket; I feel it against my hip. He could be arrested for those alone.

I know it.

He knows it.

If any of the cops littered along this block wanted to, they could incarcerate the man purely based on the weapons he carries on his body today. But he doesn’t seem all that worried, and for as long as he holds me, I struggle to find concern for the matter, too.

“Tiia?”

“No. I don’t know.” I draw a deep breath and fill it till my chest aches, then I exhale again. “I don’t know what they’re doing. But I’m glad you came.”

“Have you had lunch?” He goes back to stroking my skin. To soothing me, when I admit to thinking, not so long ago, that the giant was incapable. “Noon was a long time ago, Grá.”

“I had a granola bar and Pepsi.” My lips curl up, because I know my answer won’t please him. “I wasn’t super hungry, and I know we’re getting dinner tonight.”

“You’d be less unsteady and emotional during incidents like today if you ate better.”

I snort. “I’m not sure eating an entire rotisserie chicken for lunch could have helped once I heard that gun being loaded.” Pulling back and leaning against the edge of my desk, I discreetly wipe beneath my nose and glance up, teary-eyed, to meet his stare. “Stop micromanaging my diet. It’s weird.”

“You’re weird.” He stands alone now, his hands dropping to his pockets and his suit, hugging every inch of his body. Surely he must melt under the weight of a full outfit. It must be suffocating to have to be so formal, even in the depths of summer. But he doesn’t look disheveled or bothered. Even as the day wears on, he looks as put together now as he did when he dropped me off at my apartment. “So it seems we’ve found ourselves in a bit of a situation, Tiia Hale.” He glances down at his shoes, but peers up from beneath long lashes when I frown. “It’s a problem for me.”

“What situation?” I glance around the shop, all but void of other human beings. Jakeline is in her office, weeping about lost revenue, and customers are outside, soaking up the drama of a police investigation. “What problem?”

“You.” He licks his lips and pulls the bottom between his teeth. I get the distinct feeling he plays with them now purely for my benefit. Or my detriment. He pulls my focus there when my eyes already so naturally watch his words anyway. “You’re my problem, Grá. And I have no fucking clue how to fix it.”

“What’s there to fix?” Screw the police outside; my attention and adrenaline now focus entirely on the mafia enforcer who has deemed me a problem. “I don’t understand.”

“Well…” He glances over his left shoulder, searching for listening ears. Then to the right, to ensure we’re alone. Finally, he takes a step forward and grins. “Seems I’ve gone and fallen in love with a woman I’m not sure I deserve.”

My eyes shoot wide. Panic and possession and, holy shit, anxiety, swirling for dominance.

“I’m not sure I get to keep you. So now my dilemma lies in the fact that you took something from me. Or I willingly gave it to you. I’m unsure which it was. And an hour ago, I was concerned I’d gone and fucked up, considering I’m not the kind of man who’s gonna do something so foolish. But here you are, Tiia, scared and needing someone…” He stares into my eyes and breaks my heart, all in a single beat of what we have, “Your parents are alive. You have a twin brother. A sister you like enough not to pair up with Cato. You have friends you love, and a life filled with people who care about you.”

“Micah—”

“But when you needed help,” he presses, “when you were scared, you called me.”

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