Page 126 of Devil Mine

When I turn around, Thiago is standing in the doorway wearing a long black coat over his customary all black suit, one hand buried deep in his pockets with an intense yet unreadable look on his face. The other hand holds my coat and purse tightly in his fist. Those tattoos crawl up his neck like tentacles reaching out to me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask huskily, so happy to see him that my breathing deregulates.

He steps into the room, coming closer. Behind him, Arturo reaches in and closes the door, but not before throwing me a dark glare.

Okay, I probably deserve that one.

Thiago comes to a stop inches from my body, his large form towering over me as he stares down into my face. He eyes me intently for long moments before he speaks.

“Showing up for you,” he replies, eyes locking on mine and flashing. “Something I could have done earlier if you’d called me yourself instead of forcing Arturo to handle it.”

There’s a hint of reproach in his tone. If I didn’t know better, I’d believe he was genuinely upset that I didn’t call. But that’s not possible.

I swallow thickly and continue whispering, staying out of my mum’s earshot.

“I didn’t think it was important,” Looking down, I quickly clarify. “That it would be important toyou, I mean. I know you’re busy, I didn’t want to pull you away from work just to deal with my problems. I can handle it, I always have.”

Thiago takes a deep breath, his chest settling at the bottom of a slow exhale. “If it’s important to you, it’s important to me,” he corrects. “When I said you were mine, I didn’t mean just on the good days. Your problems also belong to me; I’m as possessive of your rainy days as I am your sunny ones. Got it?”

My cheeks warm and I nod, whispering. “Yes.”

“You don’t have to deal with these things alone anymore. You have me now.”

That mass is back in my throat for an altogether different reason now. He told me once that he could be sweet to me if I’d just let him. He has been. The butterflies that take flight in my stomach are worrisome, a reflection of how hooked I am on him.

His presence alone has brought a lightness to my body that wasn’t there five minutes earlier, even though part of me still has a hard time reconciling the fact that the violent psycho and the unexpectedly supportive husband are the same person.

Thiago palms the side of my neck, forcing my face back up towards his. His thumb brushes affectionately back and forth across my cheek, that same hot-blooded intensity still shining in his gaze. “And no more ditching your escort. I don’t ever want to get another panicked call telling me that you left Arturo behind and disappeared alone into the streets of London.”

Part of me wants to rail at him that I’m not a prisoner, but the urgent undertone in his voice makes me pause.

Softer, he admits, “For a moment, I thought he was calling to tell me that you’d run away again.”

My heart seizes. I reacted on autopilot when I heard my mum was in the hospital so I can’t regret the way I handled it, but I am remorseful that I didn’t even stop to consider how my actions might be perceived by him.

Reaching for his hand, I take it in mine and give it a firm, reassuring squeeze. “I won’t, I promise.”

He doesn’t clarify if what I’m promising is not to run from him again or not to go anywhere without my escort. I wish he’d ask.

“Good girl,” he praises, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss on my forehead.

Then he moves past me and walks up to the hospital bed. I turn to find my mum staring up at him with intrigued eyes. I’m ashamed to admit I’d temporarily forgotten she was there. That’s how all-consuming he is.

“Hello, Mrs. Noble. I’m—”

“A word of warning,” I interrupt as I move to the other side of the bed. “She’s high as a kite.”

His lips twitch in amusement.

I can’t believe they’re meeting under these circumstances. He looks down to find my mum wagging a finger up at him in reproach.

“You’re the one who’s in need of a warning, flirting with my daughter and looking at her like you just did. She’s married, you know.”

I cover my laugh with a cough. She must not recognize Thiago from our wedding announcement. I really do need to organize a brunch for them to meet, preferably at a time when she’s sober.

Thiago’s eyes lift slowly to mine, mirth shining in his golden irises. “Is she?” he asks unhurriedly, playing along.

“Recently, yes, and I doubt her husband would like another man kissing her the way you just did.”

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