Page 50 of Taking His Heart

The moment we step into the underground garage, we’re surrounded by twenty of my father’s soldiers. Daniella looks around, not the slightest bit fazed by the extra security.

“Bit of an overkill, don’t you think?” She quirks a brow.

“Last week someone tried to take you out, Daniella. No, I would say this isn’t even close to being enough.”

“You don’t know that they were after me. They could have been after you.”

“I do know, actually. Whoever your father is here to deal with isn’t too happy about it. They went after you to get at him.”

“What? Why has no one told me this?”

“I thought you knew.” I shrug. Grabbing the passenger side door, I hold it open for her.

“I can open doors myself, CJ,” she snaps.

“I’m aware. But if my mother found out I wasn’t opening doors for you, she’d have my ass. And between you and me, I’m not going to piss off the woman who makes this city’s best lasagna.”

“I think marrying me might have pissed her off. She still fed you.” Daniella rolls her eyes.

I close the door and jog around the hood of the car to the driver’s side. I wait until the security detail is ready. Four cars lead the convoy and four cars follow behind as we exit the garage in one straight line. This isn’t the first time the guys have done this. They know what to do, and how to execute it well.

“We should look for a house,” I tell Daniella.

“What?”

“A house. We should look into buying one. Get out of the apartment. Somewhere away from the city a bit,” I suggest.

“I hear Melbourne has great real estate,” she counters.

We haven’t really had the whole where are we going to live talk. I’ve been putting it off, because I know this is a topic that’s going to cause friction between us.

When I don’t respond, Daniella laughs. “Relax, CJ. I’m aware you won’t move to Australia.”

I turn to look at her. “If it meant that much to you, I would,” I tell her. Would I like it? Fuck no. I love this city. But I love her more, and being wherever she is… well, that’s my priority in life now.

“I think we should buy a house in both places. I mean, I can buy one in Australia. You buy one here and we can travel between both,” she says.

“There is no I or you anymore, Dani. It’s we. We will buy one in Australia, and we will buy one here,” I correct her. “And we will use the funds that come from our joint bank account.”

“What joint bank account? We don’t have a joint bank account, CJ.”

“We do. I had you added to all of my accounts. The cards have been ordered for you.”

“When did you do that?”

“The night we were married. I sent the instructions to my finance guy.”

“That’s insane.”

“Why? You’re my wife. You need access to our money.”

“I have money. I don’t need yours.”

“It’s not mine. It’s ours,” I remind her.

“Fine. I’ll have money transferred into our joint account, then,” she huffs,

“Your money is yours. Keep it in your own accounts.” I don’t need her money, and it’s my responsibility to take care of her, not the other way around.