Page 96 of Not Mine to Keep

“You okay?” Nala asked as Alessandro reached for my hand.

“I just need to get out of here,” I said, eyes on him, and he didn’t hesitate. He walked us out of there before Braden or anyone else could object.

Thankfully, the limo was waiting for us outside, but I had other plans for where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do. I spun around to see Braden there, looking as uncomfortable as I felt.

“Tell me why that reporter has photos of you and Britt together and she’s under the assumption it’s me in the pictures instead,” I demanded in as steady a voice as possible, ignoring the limo door being opened for me by Javier.

“I was upset about you marrying this guy”—Braden motioned toward Alessandro holding me at his side—“and I ran into Britt and told her I didn’t know if you’d even make it to the show. I was drunk, and it ... it was a mistake. I never would’ve slept with her had I been in the right state of mind, and you have to know that. I had no fucking clue she had a camera set up.”

“Lower. Your. Voice,” Alessandro hissed, each word slicing through the air. I realized he’d saved Braden’s life when he probably wanted to end it, because Frankie was on his way toward us, and if he learned what happened and told Armani, Armani wouldn’t hesitate to take Braden out.

“The thing is that I, uh, think I’m in love with you,” Braden said, his voice breaking, drawing my focus back his way. “I’ve been a mess about your marriage. I was stressed and drunk. I’m sorry.”

Alessandro erased the space between himself and Braden, but instead of snapping his neck, he shocked me by saying, “If you really loved her, no amount of alcohol or stress would have you screwing someone else.” He stabbed at the air without laying a hand on him.“You wouldn’t notice other women anymore. They’d cease to exist,” he went on, his tone low and deep. “And maybe she drives you crazy, and she’s either headstrong with a sassy mouth or a nervous fidgeter, but—” He cut himself off, and, well, I would’ve loved to know where he’d planned to go with that.

Instead of asking for him to continue, I told him, “I want to go home.”

“Javier,” Alessandro said without losing hold of my eyes, “call the pilot. Tell him to meet us at the airport.” Still staring at me, not blinking or moving, he added, “Have her equipment and our stuff from the hotel sent over. And escort her friends wherever they want to go.”

“Thank you, Javier.” I looked toward Nala and Imani, opting to ignore Braden still not taking the cue to leave. “I’m sorry to bail on our girls’ night.”

“Don’t be sorry.” They both reached for me in a group hug. “Go be with your man at home. We’ll deal with this problem here for you,” Nala said, and I was so freaking grateful for her and Imani.

We said our goodbyes, and Alessandro helped me into the limo. Without a word or blows delivered, he slid in next to me and tossed the cowboy hat on the seat across from us.

“I’m not sure if Braden and I can be friends after tonight,” I said as the limo pulled away from the curb. “And how could Britt do that to me?” The tears I’d kept at bay flew down my cheeks.

He hooked his arm behind me, pinning me to his side, and my cheek met his chest. The beats of his heart hammered into my ear. “Because she’s jealous of you, that’s why.”

I wasn’t sure if I believed that, but his words triggered a memory of something Nala had said to me before I’d found out Britt had slept with Dylan last year:She’s the kind of friend that points out your crown is slipping, not quietly helps fix it.

After a few quiet minutes had passed, I fisted his shirt and looked up at him in the dim lighting. “No blood on it.”

“Shocking, I know. But some things can be way more painful than getting struck.”

I released his shirt. “Like what?”

“Like losing a woman like you.” He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, letting me know he needed time to calm down. I’d give it to him, because I knew how hard it’d been for him to rein in his anger and not hurt Braden.

We both remained quiet for the rest of the ride. Heck, neither of us uttered a word to each other until we were at cruising altitude in the jet, when he stood and offered his hand with a simple “Come with me” request. “You should lie down,” he added as I followed him into the bedroom. Once the door was shut, he urged me to sit and began removing my boots for me.

“Lie downwithyou?”

“Yes,withme,” he said once he was standing before me. “You asked me to be sweet, didn’t you?” He pointed to the bed. “This is me keeping my promise.”

Ohhh.I climbed farther onto the bed, tensing when he joined me. My back met his chest, and he wrapped me in his arms, holding me in place.

It didn’t take me long to loosen up. To feel at home in his arms. And that scared me. Because he still wasn’t mine to keep. So I attempted to killjoy the moment with a joke. “Afor effort on being sweet.”

Not missing a beat, he responded, “Grading me, huh? Very teacher-y of you.”

“Don’t act like you hate that,” I found myself saying, and he lightly groaned and held me tighter. And yeah, I could feel just how much he definitely didn’t hate it with his cock at my ass.

“Sleep,” he commanded.

“Yes, sir,” I murmured.

“You love to torture me, don’t you?” His hand at my waist slid down to my bare outer thigh below the jean shorts, and a flash of warmth and heat traveled between my thighs.

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