Page 48 of Under His Watch

“What?” He took my hand and kissed my knuckles.

I laughed, broken and humiliated.I don’t know what to do, where to go.“I’m sorry she said those things about you.”

His grunt of a laugh intrigued me, and I lifted my gaze to his. “What?”

He gazed at me, calmer but so serious. Like he’d tell his capo to turn this car around so he could teach my mother a lesson about making me feel worthless and stupid like this.

“I’m sorry she said you’re a bad man.”

Now he smiled, lighting up my world in a sick and silly way. “Tess. Iama bad man.”

“But she’s wrong. You’re also a good man, Romeo.” I hoped he heard the sincerity I couldn’t hide.

“You saw me,” he said, softly yet somberly. “You saw me kill that man.”

I swallowed, feeling nervous at having to talk about this. I already knew that he was a killer. He told me that he’d avenged me and killed my rapists. But seeing it was believing it, too.

“I did.” I steadied my breath, doing my best not to show any unease and prove to him that I wasn’t turned off or away from him. “And I know you killed that other man.”

“I tortured him,” he corrected. “I couldn’t kill him until I got answers from him, and I did. I need you to understand that.”

I rubbed my fingers over his knuckles, needing to move somehow. “I know, and I also respect that in some areas of life, like in your family, it comes down to the concept ofkill or be killed.”

He nodded, almost seeming proud of my assessment. Then he put me on the spot. “Why do you insist on wanting to be with me, to be near me, when you know what I’m capable of?”

“Because I can’t imagine being anywhere else than with you.”

Because I know that I’m safest with you.

Because I get the impression that I calm you down and level out that darkness you can’t escape.

“Because I care.” I swallowed, my words failing me as I laid my soul bare for him. “Because I care about you,a lot, Romeo. And I don’t want to consider being separated from you.”

Not now. And not ever again.

He gazed at me for a long moment, seeming to search my face and find a reason I might hold him in such high esteem. Finally, he sighed and relaxed into his seat, prompting me to lean against him. “Then you will stay with me,” he stated, simple and matter of fact as he pushed a button to lower the partition. “Franco,” he said once the divider lowered. “Take us to my penthouse in the South End.”

Penthouse? He had so many places to stay while I had… none. Except this moment, with him, and I clung to it as I closed my eyes and let the ride lull me to doze off.

19

ROMEO

Tessa and I moved to the penthouse that I seldom stayed in. I liked the freedom of staying wherever I pleased, unsettled and without any obligations to remain in any one location for long.

With Tessa, though, I wanted to provide her with security and stability. After her mother’s hateful words of disowning her and casting her out of her house, I was driven to make sure the sweet woman belonged with me. She’d never need to test out the theory that her mom and dad wouldn’t welcome her back home.

“Like this?” she asked one evening when I brought her to a shooting range. It was near the mansion my father lived in with Nina, but according to him, they wanted a quiet night in. All their nights were in, but I wouldn’t push for a chance to visit. Besides, Nina and Tessa had video calls almost daily.

Tonight was another exercise in teaching her self-defense, and that included training her how to hold and use a gun. Safety was paramount. I offered Nina self-defense lessons as well, but I was certain my father would handle those.

“Higher,” I coached. Standing behind her, I wrapped my arms around her and corrected her grip on the gun. Her ear protection muffs remained hanging over her neck, and the hard plastic shells knocked into mine around my neck as I stepped into her space.

Her breath hitched, and I refrained from growling. Desire coiled within me, always at a constant low burn. Pressing up against her back like this and hugging her to demonstrate a proper grip was nothing short of torture.

Fuck me.Hearing her gasps and sensing her reaction to my proximity was like playing with fire. Every little thing she did somehow became more sensual. More erotic.

I'd stopped eating with her because staring at her licking a spoon or fork was tormenting. I couldn’t stay in the same room with her when she read because any time she sighed like she was reading something sentimental alerted me to watchingallof her facial expressions. Likewise for when something urged her to huff lightly, making me curious what had annoyed or amused her.

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