Page 16 of Protecting Charity

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You had me worried for a moment there.” His tense shoulders sagged as the possibility of whatever he had going on in his mind dissipated. “Do you honestly think Luca will go with me, though? I mean… he’s furious with me.”

If there was one thing I’ve learned about Luca—he knows how to hold a grudge like a typical Italian. They liked to brag about their abilities to hold on to resentments until you were old. One day, you’d be out with your walker, and some Johnny from five decades ago has kicked it out from under you, and now you’ve got a broken hip. Italians were in it for the long haul and never forgot.

“He’ll get over it.” I found that hard to believe. “Here, let me walk you out. I have a meeting I have to run to.”

“I see how it is,” I teased.

I was too satisfied right now to give a shit that he was kicking me out so soon. I understood. This was his place of business, and the day must go on.

He handed me the envelope from Senator Adams and put his palm on my lower back, his fingers grazing the top of my ass, sending electrifying shocks of life through my body.

We sauntered through the door while Martha, his secretary, gave me the side-eye. The old hag noticed what we did in his office. It would have been a hard secret to keep, especially with my uncontrolled moaning. She wouldn’t be shaming me.

I swung open the stairwell door when Nico grabbed me by my arm. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to my car to go get food because I haven’t eaten today.”

He released my arm, then wrapped his arms around my waist. “I thought I got you past that?” he asked, looking towards the elevator.

I snorted in an unladylike fashion. “No. What you did was distract me, and I thank you for that, but no amount of kissing, sex, or therapy would get me to voluntarily go so high in an elevator alone.” I caressed his cheek, then gave it a slight tap. “Thanks for trying, though.” I smiled.

He pulled me towards the elevator and pushed the button. The doors opened up immediately, causing me to cringe. “You won’t be alone.”

The five previous visions of death multiplied as we started our descent fifteen floors above the surface of the earth. I squeezed his hand, waiting for his bones to crunch from the strain. The elevator bounced as it came to rest on the last floor. The ding let me know I made it safely in one piece, and now all that awaited was to cross the threshold of doom. I released his hand and hopped across. The urge to tuck and roll over while I made my body a small target for the crushing metal was strong, but hopping worked just fine without the theatrics.

Nico’s chuckle brought me back to reality—he witnessed my major vulnerability. One I hated sharing with others… again. Max knew my fear of clowns, and Nico knew my fear of elevators.

“You better stop laughing or else.”

He gripped my hand and brought it to his lips. “Or what, Killer?”

My brain clouded over as his lips grazed my skin. “I’ll think of something,” I murmured while watching his mouth move achingly slowly across each knuckle.

Fire slapped my cheeks as we made eye contact, causing a complexity of thoughts and feelings from something so intimate. It seemed silly since I had just shared my body with him not twenty minutes ago. I pulled my hand away with a grin that wouldn’t leave my face, then turned my back on him and strolled to my car. I froze in my tracks before I came to the driver’s side door.

“What the hell?” Nico crouched down beside my car, touching the deep grooves carved into my paint.

“How do you think Luca would feel about two unsanctioned hits in one week?” I whispered, joking but altogether serious.

“What have you gotten mixed up with?” he asked as if I should know why someone carved the word “repent” in all caps into my beautiful, expensive paint job.

“Am I seriously being blamed for someone vandalizing my car?” I glared at him. “I have no idea why, but someone is going to lose some fingers over it. This is going to cost a fortune to get out.”

To the best of my ability, I hid the violence that flowed to my fingertips, causing them to curl. Someone was sending a message. But the million-dollar questions were… what were they trying to say and why? First, breaking into my home, now vandalizing my car? What was next, shaving my cat? I gasped at the thought. They better not touch him.

“This is a message, Charity. Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

I scuffed my foot against the asphalt, sending loose rocks skidding across the tar. “It could be an infinite amount of things. I piss people off daily, Nico. But someone broke into my house today after two big Mexicans confronted me in a diner.”

He held up his hand to stop me from talking. “Wait. Why didn’t you say anything?” He rose, no longer interested in the jagged carving. Folding his arms across his chest, he waited angrily for my response.

“We were a little preoccupied,” I said, holding my thumb and forefinger up.

“Who were they?”

I flicked away a flake of paint, pissed off that someone had the balls to violate my property and privacy.

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