20

Lexi
Tears of relief squeeze out of the corners of my eyes. “Thank you.”
Bobby runs his hand up and down my back. “It’s my pleasure. You’re my girl. I’ll take care of your problem. Besides, I like having you owe me.”
I narrow my eyes with mock suspicion. “What exactly will I owe you?”
Bobby grins. “What do you have to offer?”
I laugh. “Not much. A lifetime’s worth of free haircuts?”
“Hmm.”
“How about anal?”
He laughs, cupping my ass and squeezing it. He draws his finger up my crack, making me squirm as he nears my back hole. “This hot little body already belongs to me. Doesn’t it, sweetheart?”
I rub my clit over his thick muscular thigh, his words making me ache. “Yes.”
“I might collect on a haircut or two.”
I snuggle against him. Am I crazy for feeling so warm toward a man who just took his belt to my ass? Possibly.
“I’m not judging youat all, babybut how did you get so far behind financially?”
I sag. “A car t-boned mine last fall. I ended up in the hospital with a concussion and knee surgery. I couldn’t work for weeks, and I didn’t have health insurance, so the hospital bills cost me thirty grand.”
“Ah. That’s why you get so nervous in the car?”
I exhale. “Yeah. I couldn’t afford to buy a new car, and so I guess I didn’t get back on the horse soon enough because now I can’t stand to be in one.”
“Sounds like PTSD. I know someone who can help you release that pretty quickly, if you want.”
I look up at him, trying to gauge whether he’s serious.
He shrugs. “What? I’ve had shit I had to work through.”
I lean up on my elbow and trail my nails through the hair on his chest. “You did?” I want to know more about this man. I know he said the Family business is off-limits as a topic, but I’d take any crumbs about him or his personal life. He’s a total mystery to me.
“Yeah.” He looks up at the ceiling. He’s quiet so long I think that’s all he’s going to say, but then he says, “My dad was gunned down in front of me when I was sixteen.”
I silence my gasp, hold my breath to give him the space to share more.
“I, uh, had to take care of the situation myself.”
My heart pounds in my chest, aching for his teenage self, thrown into battle at such a young age. “Do you mean…” I hesitate because I know he gets edgy about questions. I never want him to think I’m an informer or that I would turn on him with information I have.
He nods. “I took care of his killer.”
That’s what I thought he meant. I hold in the sob that chokes my throat for him.
“So I became a made man at sixteen.”
Made man. My mind shuffles through the mafia lore I’ve learned from television and movies. They become made men after killing someone, I think.
“Yeah, that’s traumatic.” I try to make my voice sound light, but it catches a little.
Bobby pulls my hand to his lips and kisses my fingers. “I thought I was fine. Became the man of the house, took care of the family. The don put me to work and made me rich. I thought I was a man, so I married young. For years afterward, I was twitchy-if a door banged open, I’d draw my gun, that kind of thing. And then it got worse, I developed this weird thing about blood. Every time I saw it, I went into fight or flight. Not great for a guy in my line of work.” His rueful smile twists my heart.
“No.” I keep my voice soft.
“I was a dick about itI didn’t want anyone to know. I’m an alpha malewe don’t show weakness, you know? And then one day, one of my girls had a bloody nose, and I just…blacked out. My wifeex-wife nowsaid I drew a gun. Not on them, but in front of them, like I was trying to protect them from something. Either way, it was dangerous and unforgivable. That’s when I finally admitted I needed help.”
“Bobby,” I whisper, stunned.
He blinks. “I can’t believe I just told you that story. There’s only one person in the world besides my ex-wife and kids who knows it, and that was the therapist I saw for it.”
I try to ignore the trickle of pleasure that gives me. That he shared such a personal story with me. That it’s not something he shares with every girl he’s had in this apartment. “Thank you. I’m honored,” I murmur.
His lips tick up, and he kisses my forehead. “So anyway, the therapy I did was fast and effective. It’s not like some lie-on-a-couch-and-whine-shit. It’s called EMDR, have you heard of it?”
I shake my head.
“I don’t really know how it works, but basically you move your eyes left and right while you tell the story of what happened, and it erases all the automatic physical responses that get triggered by the trauma. It’s a nervous system reset.”
I find this apparently open-minded side to him unexpected. He certainly doesn’t appear to be the soy protein shake and wheatgrass kind of guy.
“For me, it just took one sessionthat was it. Do you want to see her?”
“She’s not another ex-girlfriend of yours, right?” I don’t know why I ask it, maybe the mention of his ex. Maybe I’m starting to feel territorial about this guywhich is definitely a problem since he made it clear we’re not dating.
“Nope. Not an ex-girlfriend. And I’m sorry about Stacy. She’s having a hard time letting go. If her crazy continues and catches the notice of the organization, I’m gonna have a hard time protecting her.”
I shiver at the reminder of the reality of what Bobby is. Despite how safe and protected he makes me feel, his family is very dangerous.
He smiles. “I’m glad you don’t seem threatened.”
“Ah…I might have wanted to throat-punch her in the moment,” I admit. “But I know I have no claim on you. You’re not my boyfriend.” I try to sound nonchalant, like I really don’t give a flying F about the fact that he’s not and never will be boyfriend material. Like it doesn’t taste like ash on my tongue saying the words.
I need to remember Bobby Manghini isn’t a man I can get attached to, despite the way he seems to be worming his way into my heart.
“So…I asked you a question. Wanna try?”
I wriggle closer. “How much does it cost?”
“I’ll take care of it. You think I’d suggest it and not pay?”
I smile. “Okay, yeah. I’d like to try it.”
“Good girl.” He drops another kiss on my forehead.
Ahh, those magic words. The ones that always turn me to mush. It’s crazy that being “owned” by Bobby Manghini holds so much appeal, especially considering what he just did to me. But right now it doesn’t matter. I feel safe and warm in his strong arms, my problems all handled by him with ease.
“I need to get back home, angel.” He sounds regretful. “Are you okay?” He strokes my cheek.
“Well, my ass is on fire, but yeah.” I give a wry smile. “I’m okay. Thanks, Bobby.”
He kisses me on the lips and starts to get dressed. Pulling out his wallet, he drops a huge wad of cash on the dresser. “I probably have a grand with me now, and I’ll bring you the rest tomorrow. I can meet you down at the salon in the afternoon.”
Moisture coats my eyes again. “You don’t need to. That will be enough to get her off my back. I have until the end of the month to pay the rest.”
“Okay. Call me if it’s not.”
I climb out of bed and wrap my arms around his neck. “I’m sorry about calling you,” I whisper into his neck.
He runs his hand down my back and squeezes my ass. “It’s over, baby. We’re good.” He holds me by the nape and kisses me possessively. “And now that I know you’re really my girl,” he says, “there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
Really his girl? What does that mean? I thought he wasn’t my boyfriend. I stare, wanting to ask, but he’s already turned to go. I listen to the sound of him leaving the apartment as I curl back into the luxurious bed.
Now that I know you’re really my girl…
Why am I so happy to hear those words?