Page 4 of Armando

“Clothes! I can get you clothes. Girly shit. Whatever you need.”

Armando looks frazzled, like he’s trying to come up with a way to provide everything for me right here and now. The only question I have is…

“Why?”

Armando stares at me for a moment, studying the very depths of my being. I feel raw and vulnerable, yet seen and understood.

“Because someone did the same for me when I was in a similar situation,” he whispers, cupping my cheek. “You don’t know this yet, Allegra, but life isn’t supposed to be this hard. I don’t know your story, but I’ve seen enough to know you were dealt a bad hand. Let me help. Let me make up for how you’ve been treated for so long.”

I blink back tears, not comprehending the man standing before me. Is he really this kind? This caring of a stranger who jumped into his arms and begged for protection?

“Okay,” I hear myself say.

“Okay?” he repeats, sounding shocked and excited at the same time. It’s kind of adorable.

I nod, slipping my hand into his. Armando wraps his fingers around my hand, tucking me into his side as we walk to the back of the coffee shop.

“I texted my driver to pull around to the alley. More coverage that way. I can keep you safe.”

I want to ask what he does for a living. He clearly has a lot of money, and now I find out he has a personal driver. We’ll have time to talk about that stuff later. Right now, I’m having a hard time putting one foot in front of the other.

“I’ve got you,” Armando murmurs, scooping me into his arms once we’re outside.

“I can walk,” I protest weakly.

“And I can carry you,” he counters, looking at me with that grin I’m starting to love.

He sets me down in front of the car, opens the back door, and crawls in behind me. Armando gives the driver a quick nod before focusing on me. His arm rests on the back of the seat, and I automatically scoot closer, sighing with relief when he bundles me further into his side.

Resting my head on his shoulder, I breathe in his cedar and spice scent as my heavy eyelids close.

The last thing I remember is Armando whispering that I’m safe.

CHAPTERTHREE

ARMANDO

The angel in my arms stirs as the driver stops outside my home. He moves to get out and open the door for us, but I shake my head, silently letting him know I’ll handle it from here.

I look down at my precious cargo, her eyelashes fluttering against her porcelain cheeks the more she wakes up. “You’re safe, Allegra,” I whisper, knowing she might be disoriented.

“Armando?” she whispers, peeking one eye open.

“Right here,” I assure her, giving her a small smile. She relaxes at the sound of my voice, making me feel like the king of the fucking world. My girl trusts me. “Let’s get you inside, yeah?”

Allegra nods, regrettably untangling herself from my embrace. I hop out of the car, peering around the front drive and yard for any sign of disturbance. I don’t know what the beautiful angel is running from, but I have some powerful enemies of my own to watch out for. Good thing my home is a fortress, and once we’re inside, nothing will be able to reach us.

I hold out my hand, and Allegra takes it, clinging to me as I guide her to the front door, which only unlocks with my thumbprint. I make a note to add Allegra’s print to the registry. This is her place, too, after all.

Stepping inside, my eyes quickly adjust to the dimmer lighting, and I cringe when I see the dirty dishes from breakfast on the table and counter. I have a few books scattered about and wraps for my knuckles that I use in the gym downstairs. Does it smell funky in here? When was the last time I vacuumed?

I release Allegra’s hand and gather the dishes and books, dumping everything onto the counter next to the stove, where they will be mostly hidden until I can clean. Shit. I’ll need to grab some cleaning supplies later today. And throw pillows. Women like throw pillows, right? And fuzzy blankets? Candles? I can get that stuff.

After a few moments of tidying up junk mail and dishes, I realize Allegra hasn’t spoken a single word. I look through the open kitchen and living room to see her standing inside the door. She hasn’t moved an inch, and her arms are wrapped around her torso in a protective hold.

She looks heart-achingly vulnerable as she folds in on herself, her eyes wandering from her dirty clothes and scuffed shoes to my carpet and couch. Allegra stays huddled in the doorway as I take slow steps in her direction so as not to startle her.

“Hey,” I say softly. “Sorry about the mess. Please, make yourself at home.”

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