Not Mine to Keep (The Costa Family)

Naked, I stepped into the shower without turning on the water. I’d never been so close to losing control in all my life. And hell, I kind of did—I got her off.

I brought my hand beneath my nose, inhaling her scent, then fisted my cock.

Angry at the desire pushing through me for a woman I couldn’t ever have, I slammed my left hand to the wall, catching sight of the wedding band.

I’m married. And I nearly fucked my wife.

I slid my hand up and down my length, hating how much I wished it were her hand. Or God help me, her mouth wrapped around my dick instead. On her knees. Eyes meeting mine as she took me.

Her tits were spectacular, but when she showed me her ass in that lingerie as she’d turned and taken a knee on the bed . . . Well, I’d never thought I was an ass man, but after tonight, consider me a convert.

And also weak, because I couldn’t fight temptation. But hell, those pricks in the hall had heard her come. The only restraint I’d shown tonight was not going out there and killing them for now knowing how my wife sounded when coming.

I let go of that insane thought, remembering the marriage was for the sake of a job. You’re not mine to get jealous over.

But for now, thoughts of her would be what got me off. My taut muscles flexed, and every part of me locked tight as I climbed the much-needed edge of release that normally took me forever to get to. I was about to become a sixty-second man for the first time since I’d lost my virginity in high school.

I cursed and curled my fingers into a fist against the wall as I came hard all over the shower inside Armani Fucking DiMaggio’s house of all places.

Energy spent and breathing hard, I did my best to pull myself together and finally turned on the water, careful not to let the hot water hit my back, which still burned and ached.

After rinsing off, I grabbed a towel, then went out to face the music. In this case, the musician.

The second she saw me, she drew the covers tighter to her body while her eyes wandered down my wet chest to where the towel sat on my hips.

This woman was going to be the death of me. Frustrated for reasons I wasn’t sure I quite understood, I went for the door, needing to get the conversation with the guards over with.

I gripped the brass handle and flung open the door, catching sight of Frankie and Leo in the hall. “You can go to bed now.”

Frankie attempted to walk in, but I remained a blockade to his entry. Callie was barely wearing anything in that bed, and God help the man—or in his case, the devil—if he tried to peel back the covers. “We need to come in. Make sure you consummated the marriage. DiMaggio’s orders.” He attempted to stare me down, and it wasn’t going to work.

“We’ll make it quick,” Leo said, and since he appeared to be the less offensive of the two, I debated possibly allowing only him to enter.

“Orders are orders, Costa. You don’t run the business yet,” Frankie remarked, drawing my eyes again. “So I’ll be coming in, or we’ll send the good doctor over to do a more thorough check.”

“Just let them in,” Callie called out, trying to be the voice of reason when all I wanted to do was kill a motherfucker. Correction: this particular one.

“Do what the lady says. Move,” Frankie said, and it sure as hell felt like he was trying to antagonize me to the point he got off on it.

“Please.” Callie’s soft tone allowed my walls to drop, and I begrudgingly surrendered room for the guys to enter, but Leo hung back in the hall. Smart man.

Frankie walked around the room, having the indecency to sniff the air like a hound, which I’d called happening.

I wasn’t sure why I’d expected Calliope to be nervous, given how she’d been holding up. But when she said in a low, cutting tone, “Don’t forget, you’ll be answering to me one day. This is not the best way to woo me,” I about fell the fuck over.

“They’re good,” Leo said, filling the doorframe. “Let’s go.”

Frankie sneered at him, as if unhappy with the good-cop-bad-cop thing they were probably doing, then he brushed past me, shouldering my bad arm like an asshole on the way out. But he was going in the direction I wanted, so I didn’t stop him.

Once Frankie was gone, I nodded my thanks, if that’s what I wanted to call it, to Leo, then closed and locked the door.Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

Callie’s gasp had me whirling around in worry. What happened? Her hand was over her mouth, and she’d let the cover drop, giving me a view of that sexy lingerie again. “Your back. It’s—”

“I’m fine.” I went over to my suitcase, which someone must’ve brought up earlier, unsure what the hell I would wear to bed. Sleeping in the nude was standard for me, but that wouldn’t work alongside her. “You should sleep.” I snatched a pair of briefs, and keeping my back to her, let the towel fall.

“You don’t miss glutes day at the gym, huh?”

“Neither do you, sweetheart,” I tossed out while putting on the briefs.

“Tell me you’re wearing more than that to bed?”

I faced her. “This is more for me. I’m usually naked,” I said, letting her in on my secret, and it really was since I didn’t sleep next to anyone. Not in a long time, at least.

“Oh.” She chewed on her lip, and my hands slammed to my hips as I fought the urge to think about that sexy mouth of hers wrapping around my cock.

“How about you? You plan on changing?”

She twirled her finger, signaling for me to turn so she could walk to the bathroom, and I almost laughed. “Shy now?”

“I have my moments.” She waited for me to be good and look away, and I obliged her request as she went to her suitcase.

“I’m rinsing off, too, like you did.” I took that as my cue to look her way again. “I feel . . . dirty after letting those bastards hear me. You know, since I wasn’t acting.”

“I’m sorry,” was all I managed before she retreated to the bathroom and shut the door.

The second I was alone, I grabbed my phone, in need of someone to talk me off the ledge I was climbing before I jumped without a chute.

Me: You awake?

I dropped onto the bed, planting my feet on the floor while bowing my head, waiting for my brother to respond so someone could talk some sense into me.

Enzo: Yeah, I’m up. I was talking to Maria. I’ll call her back. You okay?

Me: No.

Enzo: ???

Me: Physically okay. Mentally . . . not so much.

Enzo: Are you texting me because you need advice on how to resist your wife? Because you do remember I tried to keep away from Maria and wound up married, and we’re having twins. I’m not the best one to ask.

I almost laughed. Because hell, he was right. But this didn’t feel like a conversation I could have with Constantine. And definitely not Izzy.

I couldn’t believe I had told my wife I wouldn’t mind slapping her ass. What the hell had come over me?

Me: How am I going to share a bed with her all summer? This is me we’re talking about.

I left out the fact I’d already screwed up tonight and fingered her.

Enzo: Do you think you should get it out of your systems so you can move on?

Me: And risk her falling for me? Breaking her heart? Getting her pregnant?

Enzo: Easy with the ego, bro. Maybe it’s you who falls for her. It’s her that breaks your heart. And use a condom.

Shit, he threw her words from the bathroom right back at me.

Enzo: Before you say you don’t have a heart, don’t f’ing lie to me.

Me: Why are you writing f’ing like that?

Enzo: Don’t change the subject. (Maria says I need to work on my language.)

Enzo: But back to you. The fact you go out of your way to protect women from falling for you, worried you’ll hurt them, suggests you DO have a heart, bro. Otherwise, you wouldn’t give a F about the consequences of your actions.

Me: Am I paying $400/hour for this session? Because when did you become my doc?

Enzo: You did message me on your wedding night for advice to refrain from touching your wife, did you not?

Enzo: Calliope Costa. Does have a nice ring to it.

I couldn’t believe how easily her name had rolled from my tongue tonight when she’d asked me to say it again.

Enzo: Not as nice of a ring as Maria Costa, but . . .

Me: You married for love. I married to save a life. Different stories. There will be different endings.

Enzo: If you say so.

Enzo: Important side note: does she want you back? Or is this just a “you” problem.

I thought back to our kiss at the ceremony. The little whimper from her just before she’d invited my tongue into her mouth. Why was it the kiss I thought of first when he asked me that? Not getting her off with my hand?

Me: Yeah, pretty sure she wants me back . . . But she’s a client. I need to protect her, not F her.

Enzo: Maria is now rubbing off on you, too. “F her?”

Enzo: Scratch that. I don’t want my wife rubbing off on anyone but me.

Me: I hate you.

Enzo: I love you back.

Me: Fuck you.

Enzo: Fuck does feel much better to write/say. And . . . do. (Just go for it. You’re married. Maybe no one gets hurt and you live happily ever after. Because you CAN’T last three months sharing a bed with this woman and not . . . do it. That’s why you’re messaging me.)

Enzo: Also, when was the last time you shared a bed with someone? 1989?

Me: You know who it was with, and it’s been a long time.

Enzo: Right, sorry to remind you of her.

He didn’t need to apologize, because I hadn’t thought about “her” or her house in Westchester with her husband, three kids, and two dogs. Not lately, at least.

Enzo: How about a pillow wall between you at night? Maria said that’s a thing that happens in books.

His wife was an avid reader, and I could already see the stories she’d be writing in her head about what would happen with my situation. I was getting enough shit from Izzy, and I didn’t need more.

Me: Thanks for the “advice.”

Enzo: Anytime. Also, Constantine wants to take the big jet home. We need to strategize and coordinate plans moving forward, and you can’t fly with us since you’ll have babysitters tagging along. You can have the little jet. Plus, we’ll be in talks with Sebastian and the others while flying. Don’t need Armani’s men knowing about our plans for Rocco.

Rocco. How’d I let the memory of his involvement in all this slip free from my head?

Me: Any updates from The League? They still have eyes on Rocco?

Enzo: You might be focused on your wife right now, but don’t you think if I had news on Rocco, I would’ve brought it up sooner??

Enzo: He’s still at the compound.

Me: Right. Okay then.

Me: Any potential fallout from what we did in Rome?

Enzo: No, I don’t think anyone who takes over for the Esposito family will come after us now that we’re (you’re) in bed with Armani’s family, and they’re now “in bed” with The League. But we should still add some extra security back in NY.

Me: I was planning on it. I don’t trust these two idioti coming back with us to be my wife’s only protection.

Enzo: “Your wife”?

Shit. I rested my phone on my thigh and felt the need to remove the wedding band. Maybe it was screwing with my thoughts in some weird way. I set it on the nightstand by the bed and texted him.

Me: Just trying to get used to playing the role. I’m going to need to sell this marriage idea to the board when I get home. When they find out who I married . . .

Enzo: Pops already has a meeting set up with them tomorrow when we land.

Me: Of course he does. See you in the morning. Meet you at the airport at 0800 before Armani can change his mind.

Enzo: Roger that. Later. Get some sleep . . . or not

I ignored his parting jab, then pulled up my favorited contacts to message one of my assistants. I had quite a few tasks I’d need handled before returning to New York tomorrow. I’d let my main admin know I was in Italy the other day, but he had no clue I was now married. Of course, word was bound to get out soon. My dad was probably trying to get ahead of the story by having a meeting after we landed tomorrow, and with the time difference, it was doable.

Before I could text my assistant, Callie opened the door. She was in cotton pajamas that had funny little dancing bananas on them, and my shoulders collapsed. I nearly dropped the phone, because how’d she still take my breath away with her hair in a messy bun and wearing pajamas like that? Barely an inch of visible skin in sight, too.

She pouted. I hated when she did that since it was cute. And I kept finding myself now “falling” for cute. “Don’t laugh. I tried to choose the least sexy thing to pack for this trip since I was coming here.”

“Not a bad idea. But . . .” You’re still sexy. I set the phone on the nightstand, opting to wait to text a hundred last-minute requests to my assistant until after she fell asleep. I shifted my legs on the bed and slipped beneath the covers, doing my best not to put too much pressure on my achy back.

She joined me in the bed, surprising me by turning toward me instead of away.

“The lights are still on,” I pointed out.

“Maybe they should stay on?”

“Afraid something will bite you in the dark?”

“Something? No.” She lifted a brow. “Someone, you mean?”

“I don’t bite.” Unless you ask me to. And dammit, please don’t. I just might do it. “We’ll, uh, get through this.” Those words were for me, not her.

“Which part?” The little break in her voice before she wet her lips had me sliding my hand beneath the pillow so I could curl my fingers into a fist and find my control—to remind myself she needed to go back to being off-limits.

I frowned, fear cutting through my body about the unknown. I wasn’t accustomed to that emotion, but then I relented and shared, “All the parts.”