Page 92 of Guarded

“Do you know the Dizon family?”

“No one knows them, but everyone knows of them,” he adds with dramatic effect.

“Then how do I find them?”

“You don’t want to look for them. It’s not safe, man.” He ridicules.

“I’ll take my chances.” He shakes his head and lets out a small chuckle.“It’s your funeral, man. You want to get ahold of them, then that house is your only option.”

He lights a cigarette and offers one to me.

“You’ll have to leave a message there for them. And maybe if the message is worth their time, they’ll look for you,” he instructs.

I had spent the majority of my life worried about the outcome of Tala’s life. This information doesn’t make me worry less, but it gives me hope that she reached my father. That he had resources to keep her safe.

When I returnto the house, Ari is lying on the couch staring up at her fingernails whileMaster Chefreruns play on the TV. She drops her hand when she sees me, and I give her a nod. I take off my boots and head to my room to change. When I return, she’s waiting for me in the kitchen.

“I made you dinner. I mean, I made dinner and saved you a plate. If you don’t want it, that’s okay. Did you eat?” she gabbles.

She’s so fucking adorable when she gets nervous. Her eyes look everywhere but my naked chest.

“Thanks. I’m starving.” I give her a smug smile, then sit at the counter.

“You made this?” I ask looking down at the plate of adobo and rice she set in front of me.

“You said it was your favorite.” She smiles.

“Thank you, Maniká.” I grab her hand and kiss it gently, watching as she gushes over the act.

When you grow up with a woman who denies you the basic necessity of food, it does something to you when another woman offers you a meal.

I didn’t ask her for it, and I sure as hell didn’t expect her to do this. She just does these things. Things that make me feel like a person worthy of love. It was foreign to me after feeling like I was nothing my whole life.

“What’s wrong?” her brows furrow.

“Nothing. It was just a long day.”

She steps between my legs and wraps her arms around my neck. I’m caught off guard, but my body melts into hers. Hugging was not my thing, but Ariella belonged in my arms.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, nuzzling her face into my neck.

“Not tonight,” I reply.

She pulls away and softens her face. Her hand runs over my beard and palms my face before she breaks the embrace.

“I’m gonna go wash my face, then we can watch a movie.”

I eat, then clean up the dishes while she starts her never-ending face-washing routine. When we settle on the couch, I stretch out and lay my head on her lap.

Guapo makes his space between us because, of course, the territorial fuck can’t let me have a moment alone with her. Worries from my day fade as she massages my head, her long nails scratching my scalp.

I love it when she runs her long fingernails through my hair. I spent years thinking that praising women made me feel better, but being treated like a King by Ariella Reyes was superior to that. She praised me in her own way.

Touch aversion has been a problem for me, thanks to my past. It was the reason I held back and avoided serious relationships.

Ariella’s touch, though, was all-consuming. My eyes flutter at the sensation of scratching my scalp, calming me to the point of sleep. The absence of her hand on me causes me to look up. Her face is serious, and her brows furrow as she dramatically repeats the lines from the movie.

“I am honored and grateful that you have invited me to your daughter’s wedding...”

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