Page 8 of Romeo

A few moments later, Thalia stands in front of me, holding the garbage bag so tightly that her knuckles are white. She nibbles her bottom lip as she looks down at her feet, which are now adorned with tattered old sneakers that won’t stand a chance against the biting cold northeastern winter.

“Do you have better shoes? A hat and gloves? A coat?” I ask with a frown.

I want to punch myself in the face when I see her shoulders drop. Thalia curls in on herself, shaking her head no. I reach out on instinct, then pull my hand back. I need to stop touching her. It’s becoming an addiction, and I don’t know what to do about it.

“I’ll get you set up with everything later today,” I tell her, nodding once as I make a note to call Dante and have him work out the details. I can’t get attached to her, but I can provide for her in this small way.

“No, I don’t need–”

“Let’s go,” I say, cutting her off. Her protests are pointless. No woman of mine will walk around in ratty shoes and no coat.

Shit.Not that she’smine, per se. She’s just under my protection. For now.

Motioning for Thalia to get behind me, I open the door, keeping my gun cocked and at my side. Peering into the dirt lot across the street where I saw the Colombo enforcer, I sigh with relief that his car is gone. I’m not sure if he saw me enter Thalia’s apartment and ran or if he gave up without a fight, but I don’t care. I’m just thankful there won’t be any bloodshed in front of the traumatized woman trailing behind me.

As I make my way to my car, I keep a keen eye out for anyone staking out this place. I note my surroundings, logging the information away for later. It’s been a while since I’ve been out in the field, getting my hands dirty with tasks such as collecting a witness, but old habits die hard. Every detail is important. It’s where you find the devil, after all.

A soft warmth wraps around my left hand, and I look down, stunned to see Thalia’s delicate fingers laced through mine. She’s shaking, but her shoulders are square and her chin is up, broadcasting courage and determination even when she’s scared out of her mind.

I ignore the sense of pride welling up in my chest at the thought of giving her confidence amid what has undoubtedly been the worst few days of her life.

Thalia tries to jerk her hand away from me as if realizing she’s holding a stranger’s hand, but I don’t let her go. Not until I have her settled in the front seat with her seatbelt fastened over her lap. I know she’s capable of doing it herself, but she’s under my protection. It’s now my job to ensure she’s secure in every way, including car rides.

It’s a flimsy excuse to touch her, to be closer to this intoxicating woman, but I don’t have time to worry about that. This will all be over soon.

Climbing into the driver’s seat, I start the car and begin winding my way through the city to the Di Salvo compound. The trash-filled streets littered with shacks and condemned buildings briefly turn into an industrial landscape before giving way to the Brooklyn Bridge.

Thalia is silent the entire ride, and I glance at her, wondering what she’s thinking. She still has the garbage bag in her lap, and her fingers nervously pick at the plastic tie at the top as she stares out the front windshield.

I force myself to pay attention to the road instead of letting my eyes follow the slope of her nose or taking in her full curves. She’s beautiful in a way I don’t understand. A quiet strength resides inside this woman, and it somehow shines through with every blink, every breath, and every word from her lips.

“Where are we?” she breathes out as I pull up to the gate surrounding my house and the compound beyond it.

The guard standing post nods at me before opening the gate, his eyes lingering on Thalia longer than I can stand. I glare at him when he turns his attention to me, and a satisfied huff leaves my chest when I see the color drain from his face.

“My home,” I tell her matter-of-factly.

I expect her to ask a few questions, like who the hell am I, and why do I own a fucking four-story mansion guarded by a wrought-iron fence and four heavily armed men?Instead, Thalia nods, her inquisitive green eyes taking in every inch of the immaculate garden, stone path, and fountain in the front yard. I probably should have blindfolded her or something. Hell, if she were any other witness, and I had one of my men collect her, she would likely be tied up in the trunk.

A sharp pain cracks through my chest, and I cough as I rub the heel of my hand over the spot. Jesus, I’m losing it. My first thought is that I’d rip the head off of anyone who shoved my Thalia into a trunk.

Once I pull my car into the empty spot in my six-car garage, I hop out and collect Thalia and her bag of yarn. I try taking it from her, but she clasps it to her chest like a safety blanket or a cherished stuffed toy.

Guiding the gorgeous and terrified woman inside through the back door, I usher her straight into my office. I need to discover what she witnessed so I know how I can protect her.

Thalia stands in the doorway, shuffling her weight from foot to foot.

“Take a seat, Thalia,” I say in the calmest voice I can muster. “And start from the beginning.”

She stares at the ornate couch upholstered with deep red velvet adorned with golden silk embossed pillows, then looks down at her clothes. It takes me a second to figure out what’s going through her head, but then I realize she thinks she’s going to get it dirty.

I try not to feel my heart breaking for this young woman. I don’t know her story, but I can tell she hasn’t had a lot of love or affection in her life. I mean, shit. I haven’t either, so I’m not sure why I suddenly want to comfort her and reassure her she can sit anywhere she goddamn pleases. I’m not sure that would help, though.

“Come on,” I encourage as I take a seat. “Not many people get to enjoy this rare antique couch. It would be a shame for you to pass up the opportunity.”

A shy smile graces Thalia’s lips, and my confused cock springs to life. It’s so beyond inappropriate, let alone baffling. I can’t remember the last time the fucker rose to the occasion.

Thalia sits a foot away from me, and I barely resist the urge to wrap my arm around her waist and pull her closer. When I see the trepidation and conflict in her eyes, I know I need to give her space for what she has to say.

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