Page 95 of My Broken Bodyguard 3: Catch & Bianca

Bianca placed a hand on my chest. “I love your name and most of all, I love you.”

I pulled her into my arms and shoved my tongue past her lips, wrapping it around hers.

I’d like nothing more than to be locked in our bedroom, where I’d spend every moment worshiping her.

Reluctantly, I released her lips. I noticed my dad had retrieved his laptop from his leather briefcase.

“Son, I’ve noticed you’ve run through several vehicles lately.”

Shit. I sighed.

“Normally, I return them after I’m done. However, we needed extra vehicles for the war. Tell the owner I’ll donate the outstanding balance of the vehicles to his favorite charity.”

Bianca’s fingers clutched my suit jacket lapels as she stared up at me in awe.

I flashed a cocky grin. “It’s a tax writeoff, baby. I’ll teach you the ins and outs of the business.”

She pressed her head against my chest, releasing a moan.

Damn, I was truly the luckiest man in the entire world.

“Callum, he’ll accept that. It’s not like he has a choice in the matter.” A wicked grin spread across my dad’s face.

He was just as ruthless as I was; we shared the same temper and willingness to get our hands dirty. In recent years, my father had become more reserved, preferring to send his bodyguards to deliver messages on behalf of the Rizzo family. We were known as the muscle and brains behind the mafia, and my father wanted me to take over as the next boss. Our profitable car venture brought in a significant amount of money for our family, allowing us to live lavishly. Through our connections, we supplied vehicles to multiple mafia families.

“Dad, once Bianca and I are married, add her name to the ordering list.”

“No problem,” he responded as his fingers flew across the keys.

Bianca’s gaze snapped to mine. “What does that mean?”

“I’ll program the phone number in your phone. You’ll tell Marty what kind of car you need. It will be delivered within an hour or two.”

“Catch, that’s not necessary.”

I palmed her cheeks. “It does. You ladies are taking over the streets of Chicago. You’ll need an army of muscle. That muscle will need transportation.”

She released a breath. “You’re right. Even though Tori’s dad is coming back to run the streets. We’ll play a bigger role now.”

“Rich!” Dad exclaimed.

I peered at the man strolling down the stairs in front of Ritchie.

“Callum, it’s good to see you,” Uncle Rich stated.

Dad approached, then embraced Rich. They hugged more like long-lost brothers than men who married daughters of a mafia boss. To my understanding, they’d been through a lottogether when it came to proving their loyalty to the Pitucco mafia family.

“Rich, are you staying for dinner?” Dad asked as he stepped back.

Tori halted next to Rich. “I didn’t plan to cook. But I can. Please stay.”

“Catch is ordering dinner from our favorite Italian restaurant,” Bianca said as she sauntered toward Tori.

“I could’ve cooked,” Tori said.

Ritchie placed his hands on Tori’s shoulders. “No, you’re still healing.”

“At least let me make some Hors D’oeuvres until the food arrives.” She kissed Ritchie before darting into the kitchen.

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