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And then it became something else. Pressed close against his chest by that time, my head buried in it, I became aware of the closeness of our bodies, of his heart thrumming under his skin, his warm flesh. When he was the one to pull away, I was actually almost disappointed – and now I don’t see the point of not returning to the room I’ve been staying in.
“You don’t need to chaperone me,” I sigh. “I’m fine. He’s gone now, right?”
“Right.” Tommy looks at me fiercely. “And no one’s going to bother you again. I mean that. I don’t let my guys act that way. Now that they know about you specifically, they won’t dare.”
“You don’t?” I quirk an eyebrow. Not exactly the mentality I would expect from a crime boss who earns a living by extorting people.
“No!” Tommy exclaims. “I won’t have that kind of behavior. This isn’t the fifties, for God’s sake. It’s unacceptable.”
I look at him, tilting my head, narrowing my eyes in thought. He’s kind of an enigma. The mafia boss who won’t let his men lay a hand on an unwilling woman. The brutish enforcer who is willing to buy me a whole closet of designer clothes – not to mention the diamonds. The sharp-edged man who looks so fine in a suit he could be a model.
“We should go,” I tell him, turning to lead the way so that he can see I’m really not afraid anymore. Even so, I hear him walk behind me, despite my protests against needing a chaperone.
And despite my protests, I’m glad.
When we reach the door that I think is mine – it’s hard to tell, given that I’m more used to looking at the back of it – Tommy steps in with me, casting a look around. He examines the floor closely over near the bed – I notice that a rug which used to be there is now missing – and looks the rest of the room over by turns.
“What are you looking for?” I ask, standing near the bed, watching him.
“Anything,” Tommy says, with an enigmatic frown. He must sense that I’m staring at him, waiting for a more explanatory answer, because then he looks up and sees the expression on my face and continues. “Anything that might hurt you.”
“I’m not made of glass,” I say. “I’m going to be fine.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Tommy says, rounding on me fiercely all of a sudden. His hands come up and take my arms, sending tingles through my veins even though we were closely touching just a few minutes ago. “It’s my responsibility to keep you safe. I failed in that. Now I have to make absolutely sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“You didn’t fail,” I say, softly, unsure what’s come over him now. “You saved me from him.”
Tommy’s mouth works for a moment, going from a thin, tense, straight line to a downwards curve, his lips twitching as if he wants to say something. But he only lets go of me and turns away, his intense, dark eyes flicking away from mine and down to the floor.
There’s a moment of silence, a long moment that stretches out ahead of us. I don’t exactly know what to say. I feel bewildered – like I’m part of a play for which I don’t know the lines. The way Tommy reacted – I just can’t understand it. It’s more than simply looking out for me, upholding a personal reputation. He’s acting as though I’m more to him than that as if he cares about me. As if he wants to protect me.
I don’t want him to go – I know that much. I clear my throat shyly, immediately regretting drawing his attention, and will myself to say what I want to say. “I don’t know what time it is, but it looks like it’s getting dark outside. Maybe we should have dinner.”
Tommy glances at his watch as if surprised, and rubs a hand over his mouth. For a long moment, I think he’ll say no, and my heart quails in my chest. “Alright,” he says. “I’ll call down and have them bring it up. I’m not leaving you on your own – not even for a minute.”
I’m glad. Hesitantly, I go to sit down on the very edge of the bed, facing toward the door. I watch as Tommy slips a phone out of his pocket and speaks into it tersely, telling someone to have our food made and brought up, and then he turns to me again. Every angle of his body is tense, rigid.
He was scared, I realize. Scared that something might happen to me. That’s why he’s so tense and overprotective now.
“You should sit down,” I say, tentatively. “Relax.”
It feels strange, me giving orders to this man, who is so much more used to giving them. But he looks like he needs it. Like he won’t be able to relax if no one tells him to.
