Page 28 of Guarded

“Hi, Mija! I thought that was you. Hi, Nero. “ She says, looking between the two of us.

I don’t know if she saw the whole food exchange, but it dawns on me that it was probably not very client-employee-like behavior.

“Tia! How are you? Are you excited about Luca coming home?” I ask.

Luca was Olivia’s son, who had been with Thalia and her daughter Lucia in Mexico. The two kids had grown up like twins and separating them was next to impossible.

“Yes, I miss him so much,” she replies.

“Me too.”

The kids were always with me when they were here, and I was missing them more than I realized these last few months. I frown before I shake it off—a quick warning to myself not to return to that sad place and change the subject.

“Omg, Tia, these eggs benedict are amazing,” I say, brushing off the sad tone from my earlier statement.

“It was all my new sous chef. He has been making so many changes. You should meet him, he’s around your age. Efren!” she yells, walking to the kitchen.

When she returns the sous chef, she was boasting about follows behind her.

“Efren, this is my other niece, Ariella.” I smile and extend my hand to greet him properly.

“Nice to meet you, Ariella.”

He looks to the side before placing my hand in his. In one quick motion, he brings it to his lips. My cheeks flush, and I’m thrown off momentarily by the action. When I look at Nero, his eyes are pinned to my hand, and they are ice cold.

Chapter 9

Nero

Having the memory of an elephant was great when you needed to remember the face of someone you were dead set on murdering. Like Efren, the sous chef kissing Ari’s hand in a large public display. I can tell the whole thing flusters her. She refuses to look me in the eyes afterward.

There’s this possessive need to punch the son of a bitch in the face, but I have to keep my composure. Besides, Ariella doesn’t belong to me. She is my client.

Right.

The devil on my shoulder mocks me. Without a doubt, if Ariella Reyes were not my client, I would have had her kneeling before me months ago. I hate how often I have to fight back the pestering fucking need to taste her and to show her pleasure beyond the confines of what she believes. It was a constant torture for me to wonder how many men had tasted her lips. Her fucking pouty lips.

Last night, when she touched my scars, it was like she touched some desolate place inside me. I wanted to kiss her then. I wanted to do more than fucking kiss her, and that was theproblem. Thankfully the fucker that is my conscious reminds me she’s not mine.

That’s the largest hurdle I throw at myself. She doesn’t belong to me. She never will. Even when every one of her smiles holds me hostage. When the very idea of any stranger having her before me unravels me. I face the facts every damn time.She doesn’t belong to me.

I tap my fingers on the counter. Eager for the fucker interrupting us to leave.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Ariella continues to listen to Efren’s story, but her eyes are on the motion of my fingers. My eyes stay glued to her as they continue to chatter.

When I have enough willpower to detach my gaze from her, I look up to see Leatherface and Kostya sitting in a corner booth on the opposite end of the restaurant. He has his back to me. I can tell it’s him, not just by the large tattoo on the back of his shaven head, but I can spot any of my brothers in a crowded room.

I knew each of their individual struggles, and I could sense their energy. Leatherface’s energy always felt angry, but none of us could ever guess if it was anger towards the world or in himself.

This morning, I received a text that he would be here, but I didn’t register the notification. I hadn’t even heard Ari get up an hour after I got back to the penthouse. I was passed out cold until Guapo started whimpering outside my door, and I rushed down here to find Jasper and Louie waiting for Leatherface.

I bring the coffee to my lips, sip the last drip, and then lower the cup, exerting more force than necessary. The bang on thetable causes other people to turn and look, but it has the desired effect when Efren kindly excuses himself.

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