Page 87 of Diamond In The Rough

To outsiders, I assume we’d appear as a cute couple out on a stroll. Aesthetically, of course, we look entirely acceptable. But on the inside, we must acknowledge my dragging feet. My thundering heart. The hands on my hips, forcing me forward.

Because if he lets go, I might turn on my heels and run out of this multi-story mafia mansion like my ass is on fire.

I’m not this brave.

I’m not this selfless!

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Felix wipes his hands on a towel and flips the fabric over his shoulder. Waiting in what I come to find is the kitchen, he leaves behind the woman I know to be Christabelle Cannon, her heated stare warming my face, and yanks me from Micah’s hold the moment we’re close enough. Instantly, his lips touch my cheek. Too informal. Too comfortable. “I doubt introductions need to be made.” Gently, he pulls back and makes damn sure to keep hold of my hand. “I’m Felix. You’re Tiia. No one inside this room is so naïve as to think we haven’t looked into each other’s business.” Releasing just one of my hands, he glances back at the woman worth millions.

Billions, maybe.

And hell if she doesn’t look it up-close.

“Christabelle, Darling.” He smiles for the woman he loves and preens when she sets a bottle of water down, making her way closer. He wears most of a suit: black pants, black shoes, and a white button-up shirt. But his buttons are half undone, and his tie hangs limply over his shoulders.

He’s mid-undress and totally okay with it.

Christabelle, on the other hand, wears an oversized shirt. She swims in the fabric, and yet, somehow makes it look elegant and expensive. She wears her hair up in a high ponytail, remnants of her makeup remaining on flawless skin.

She came home—because this is her home now, right?—and shucked off an expensive outfit. She tossed aside high heels, and whipped her hair up. Then she donned her lover’s shirt, a pair of shorts that show off the ample length of her toned thighs, and left her makeup exactly how it was: elegant and done well, but she didn’t reapply or freshen things.

When you’re Christabelle Cannon, you needn’t try to impress people.

And when Felix Malone looks at you the way he looks at her, you know you’re beautiful, no matter what’s going on after a long day.

He takes her hand in his spare, so he has me on one side and Cannon on the other. “You should know you’re the first woman my brother has ever brought to this house.”

“Lix! Dude.” Micah tries to grab my hand, to yank me from his brother. But Felix is fast, and his smile remains.

“First. Ever.” He insists. “So if you could take care of his heart and ensure it stays in one piece, that’d be fuckin’ awesome.”

Irritated, Micah finally tears me back and shoves me under his arm. Part hug, part possession. “Could you not make shit weird for once in your damn life?”

Felix only chuckles, completely and ridiculously at ease—nothing like the man we see in the media. The killer who runs a criminal empire and rules over countless men. “I like making things weird.” He winks. “Turns me on.”

Christabelle rolls her eyes, grunting when Felix mirrors his brother’s stance and tugs the woman under his arm. But she’s more practiced at this than I am. Less tolerant of their bullshit. So she jams her elbow into the don’s ribs and smoothly extricates herself from his hold.

Better yet, she takes me from Micah and starts our trek across the kitchen. “You’re going to want to murder them at least once a day. It’s okay,” she meets my eyes, “if you and Micah are meant to be, then love will keep him alive. And if you’re not, then you’ll be able to leave in one piece. They’re not nearly as scary as they’d have you believe.”

“Yes we are,” Micah grumbles. “We’re gangsters.”

“If, at any point, you feel the urge to press a pillow to his face,” she releases me as we stop by the counter, then she circles around and takes her spot by her water, “once again, this is okay. Completely natural. The Malone genes are strong, and the personality quirk that runs most rampant is being the most annoying person in the room. Luckily for you, Felix will always take that title. So, unlike me, when you’re done for the day and you’re heading to bed, you get to leave him behind for a good, solid eight or so hours. That must be so refreshing,” she sighs, whimsical and sweet. “I haven’t spent a night alone since I met him.”

“And you never will again.” Felix leaves Micah by the door and crosses back to us. He wraps Christabelle in his arms and rests his chin on the top of her head. Of course, his silly act is just that, an act. Because when his eyes lock on to mine, I see the fire.

The ferocity.

“Tell us something our background check doesn’t know about you.”

“Background check?” Stunned, I shoot a look toward Micah. “You ran a background check on me?”

“Pretty sure I made my thoughts clear on the Wilkes thing.” He pushes away from the doorway and saunters across the kitchen. “I thought you worked for the enemy. So I asked questions about you before I decided to trust you.”

“And do you?” I swallow my nerves when he stops by my side and envelops my hand in his. “Trust?”

“I do.” He pulls out a stool and sits on the edge.

He’s not as showy as Felix. Not nearly as loud in his actions. If one is the family mouthpiece, the other is the surveillance. Felix speaks. Micah observes.

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