Page 6 of Claimed By Him

“Fiona, I—”

“Shhh.” I lifted a finger to his lips, standing in front of him. “I want to do this.”

He kept quiet and watched as I pulled the zip down my back, then let my dress fall to the floor. Standing in my white, lace thong and strapless bra, I knew I looked good. I gripped his shoulders and climbed onto his lap, then kissed him again.

His hands began to explore my bare skin, down my back, and over my ass. It felt good and gentle. I pushed him down to lie on his back and lowered myself onto him, playfully swaying my heels in the air.

With his eyes closed, he touched my thighs and ran his hands back up to squeeze my ass. I deepened our kiss, pushed my tongue into his mouth, and gained a moan from him. He wrapped his arms around me and flipped me over onto my back. Kissing me still, he pressed himself against me and brought a hand up to my bra. I wrapped my legs around his thighs and moved seductively, dragging my heel along his calf.

Suddenly, he stopped. I froze and looked up at him. Breathing heavily, he shook his head and stood up.

“No… no. I can’t.”

“Freddie—” I reached for him.

“No, Fiona.” He held his hands up and shook his head. “No.”

And then he unlocked the door and walked out, leaving me exposed on the bed, with kids peeping into the room and laughing at me covering myself with a blanket.

4

Tony

Three years ago, age 23

Idrove slowly past the rich kid’s house in my black Dodge Challenger. I was alone; I’d told Ace that I had something to handle tonight. The truth was that I’d heard about this party from my youngest sister, Viola, and I had a suspicion that Fiona would once again sneak out of her father’s house to be here.

Yep, I was right. There was her best friend’s Audi parked haphazardly along the street with the rest of the badly parked, unappreciated, high-end cars. From my experiences with Fiona, it was very seldom that Ari would be here without her.

I circled the block and came back to the front of the house, sliding to a stop across the street but still near the open gate, so I could see the front door and the windows. I shut off the engine and edged lower in my seat.

There were drunk kids everywhere, and I could smell the distinctive scent of weed wafting through my window. Narrowing my eyes, I tried to focus on the kids through the front window, hoping to see Fiona or one of her friends.

At the age of 23, I was not planning on going inside. It would be a weird, creepy move on my part. Besides, if Viola happened to be here, she’d definitely chase me out in horror. I was only here to determine whether Fiona got home safely since as expected, I hadn’t seen her bodyguard parked anywhere nearby. I knew Viola would be fine; she had an attitude, but at least she allowed her bodyguard to drive her around.

This whole “keeping an eye on Fiona” thing started back when I saw her as a 14-year-old, walking down the street in the city with her friends—at fucking midnight on a Saturday night.

I was standing outside a club, smoking a cigarette and chatting with a gorgeous young woman, whose name escaped me now, when I heard a familiar laugh. I looked across the street and saw her. I told the Jane Doe in front of me to head back inside, and I followed the troop of young girls.

I know, it sounds creepy as shit. But I swear, I was protecting them.

I searched, but there were no Moretti soldiers to be seen. No Antonio or Huxley, no bodyguard, not even a trailing car at a safe distance. No. They were out here on Romano turf, alone. I was fucking pissed. How did she get out of the Moretti estate without someone being tasked to follow her? She must have sneaked out.

I pulled my hoodie over my head and leaned against a lamp pole when the girls stopped.

“Okay, my dad’s close by,” one of the girls said, pulling another two along with her. “Bye guys!”

Fiona was left with one other girl—who I soon found out was Ari. They seemingly called a cab and waited. Soon, a car pulled up. They approached the door, ducking their heads to make sure it was the cab guy. It was not.

I could tell by the fucking car alone—it was a deep, navy-blue Subaru with a missing taillight.

The very moment that Fiona opened the back door of the sketchy-ass car, I shook my head in disbelief, walked up, and slammed it closed. I stepped in front of her and pulled my hood off my head.

“No,” I growled out angrily.

Her eyes widened, and Ari looked me up and down, taking in my black jeans, black hoodie, and tattoos climbing up my neck. She couldn’t even see my multiple concealed knives or the gun in the back of my pants, yet she looked scared.

“Um, Tony?” Fiona asked in surprise. We didn’t know each other very well yet. Only through mafia-related events and when I played soccer with her brothers.

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