She smiled sadly. “You have a whole other life, Cristiano. I don’t blame you for wanting to go back to it.”
“Nicky,” I groaned. “You don’t get it.”
“Get what?” she snapped. “That I’m a failed art student, while you’re destined to be a world-famous fighter?”
I opened my mouth, but she had something else to add.
“Or how about the fact that your family has strong mob ties, while my father is known for putting criminals away in his free time? Hmm? You know that, right? That his pro-bono work is public justice? He’s not just a fancy corporate lawyer. He tries to make amends for his less-than-savory start by punishing criminals.”
Gripping her hands, I pulled her out of the chair and into my lap. When she struggled, I swatted her bottom.
“Tino! I’m not in the mood for games,” she sniped.
“Then how about a gift?” I wrestled her into a one-arm bar hold and reached into the pocket of my jacket. “I’m sorry you woke up alone. That was not the plan. But I had a feeling that sharp mind of yours would panic, so I needed to give you this.”
I placed the poorly wrapped gift in her hand. Shehadpanicked. It was scrawled on her face. She doubted herself; her family only fueled that terrible self-image.
Fuck them all, I was going to show her. Every day. Even if it took a long time to undo the damage, I would make her see she was perfect in every way.
Especially perfect for me.
She frowned at it, but curiosity won, and she tore off the paper. Her gasp of surprise was music to my ears.
“Merry Christmas, angel,” I said again, kissing her head. “I hope this lays to rest any doubts in your beautiful mind.”
“You kept it?” she whispered, turning the small painting over and over in her fingers. “I can’t believe you kept this! It’s so ugly!”
I snorted. “Don’t insult my favorite painting.”
Her eye roll was tangible. If she wasn’t so comfortable sitting on my lap, I would have lifted her and swatted her backside again.
“Why would you keep this?” she insisted, waving the five-by-seven rendering of a house in the mountains with both a palm tree and a pine tree stationed on either side. “It’s ridiculous!”
“Because,” I said simply, “you’ve always been mine.”
“Tino,” she murmured, and a sob choked her a moment later.
I found her lips, kissing her deeply. I drank in her emotions and became the rock she had yet to learn to lean on. The moment she relaxed, when her arms entwined around my neck, I pulled back to look at her.
“I doubted I would see you again. But that little picture has stayed with me, a silent wish to reconnect with my old friend.” I nuzzled her nose against mine. “Now that I found you, I’m not letting you go. Okay?”
“Okay,” she repeated, voice still wobbly.
If it took a thousand times, I would say those words to her again. Ten times that if it made her believe.
“There’s something else.” Lifting her in my arms, I carried her to the kitchen. “You can’t keep the painting, but I think it will go nicely in our new place,” I explained, setting her down on the island. “You can use these to decorate the walls—murals or portraits, I don’t care which, so long as you make them.”
I handed her the bag of paints that I hadn’t had time to wrap.
She stared at them. Her fingers traced the colors.
I couldn’t wait any longer. I bent down and pressed my lips to hers. This time, the kiss turned hot. Steaming. Unlike the store-bought coffee, which was cold by the time we were done, the sizzling didn’t leave our veins.
Chapter 14 – Nicole
My knee-high boots were more cute than practical. I plucked nervously at my sweater dress while I waited for my monster to come around the car. His strict order was not to open my door. I almost wanted to, just to see if he’d make good on his threat to paddle my ass red. But there were people on the sidewalk, walking toward the restaurant. I wasn’t that voyeuristic…yet.
Opening the door, Cristiano leaned inside the car, lifted me in his arms, and, despite my protests, carried me into the restaurant. He only set me down once he crossed the threshold, but his arm shot out, wrapping tightly around my back. I couldn’t be mad at him. Not really. Not when that possessive hold felt so good—a visible claim for the fifty-plus curious pairs of eyes glancing in our direction.
