Page 39 of His Vicious Desire

He chuckles.“My Mylena is a good girl, only a few points from valedictorian.It’s just that Delores is always bitching about me spoiling her.But she deserves it.I hate she’s so far away…then again with her mother—I’m not surprised.I’m grateful she’s coming home for Christmas.”

I shake my head, “In that case, she deserves the one-carat in each ear in the princess cut.It’s timeless, and the diamonds are clear as water.”

Nodding.“Yeah, I’ll take those.Thanks for hooking me up.”

“No problem?—”

His phone rings.He checks the display and answers.“Bianca, hey, sweetie.”

A flood of garbled speech comes out too fast and not loud enough for me to catch everything.My whole body stiffens as my mind races, wondering if she’s all right.

“It’s okay, take a deep breath.I can come to get you.No problem at all.Are you safe right now?”It’s a little slower but no clearer than it was a minute ago.“All right.I’m on my way.”He ends the call, and the minute he does, he yawns.

“Why don’t you let me go get her, and you go home to bed?You’re not going to be any good to her falling asleep.You were up at what?Six in the morning today to get Sandro to the airport so he could fly out to deal with the shelter in LA.”

His sigh is heavy.“My alarm went off at five.I thought he was going to come back tonight, so I didn’t dare head home to relax.I don’t know.She doesn’t like you much.”

I laugh.“Only because I don’t indulge her the way you and Sandro do.And she met me once.Besides, you and I both know I’m going to be the one who ends up killing whoever made her cry.If Sandro knows we let it go until he got back into town, he’ll never forgive either one of us.”

My smile was already fake—something to prevent him from seeing how badly I needed to be the one to go to her.It disappears as I read his hesitation.“You are not dropping whatever happened to her.”

He shrugs.“She’s begging me to.It’s a stupid girl thing?—”

“Give me the address and go home.Don’t make me tell Sandro.”

A hand goes over his face.“Yeah, okay.”He’s clicking through his phone.“She gave me her location a long time ago so I wouldn’t have to go into her tracking information.Damn, she’s on the other side of town.”

I nod as I check the text he sent me.He’s not exaggerating.She’s on the other side of the city.It will take me almost an hour to get to her—if I go the speed limit.

Two minutes after I close my front door behind him, I’m in my car.While my garage door opens, I take the time to turn off the app for the tracker on her vehicle so it won’t alert if her SUV is nearby.I remove the app for the cameras, again.I’ll download it again the way I keep doing—unable to go more than a few weeks without watching her.

In the half hour it takes to get to her, half a dozen scenarios are running through my head.What the hell was bad enough that she called Bobby for help when she had several credit cards and her debit card?

The closer I get to the address, I see it’s a twenty-four-hour pharmacy.The parking lot is basically empty of cars.There are two men drinking from a bottle at the edge of the lot.When they see me get out of the car, they decide to leave.Smart.

Inside, I find Bianca’s beautiful face is still swollen from crying, and her eyes are red-rimmed.The cashier is an older woman, patting her shoulder consolingly.She’s in a thin black lacy dress with her tits up and spilling out of the top of it.I want to tear out the eyes of everyone who has seen her in it—man or woman.

Even though I’ve been watching her almost daily over the last eight months, seeing her only a feet away from me, I’m discovering changes in her I hadn’t noticed.The way she’s holding herself is different than the last time I saw her.Her shoulders are back, and her head is up.

Bianca sees me and sighs.Fresh tears appear, and she shakes her head.

“Is this the fucker?”The cashier asks her, giving me the stink-eye.

“No, he’s my ride.”She’s moving toward me with apprehension and what might be relief.Suddenly, she stops.Now she’s wary.

It’s a mistake.The last thing I should be doing is touching her, only I can’t stop myself.It doesn’t matter that I can see for myself that she’s all right.Ineedto touch her—to feel her soft skin beneath my fingertips.I catch her chin and bring her face up to mine.There are bruises along one shoulder and arm, rage fires through me that anyone dared to touch, to mark her skin.

Her gasp at my touch turns my whole body hard.I’m grateful for the curious eyes of the cashier keeping me from screwing up even more.

Taking a step back, I hand her my keys.“Go get in my car.”

She hesitates, not taking my keys.“Why?”

Swallowing my anger isn’t easy.“Go get in my car.Now.”

Nodding, she takes my keys.She’s smarter than I am and careful not to touch me.

Once she’s outside, I nod at the cashier.“She’s not going to be honest with me.Can you tell me what she told you?”

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