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“No thank-yous, just move your butt. Mario is standing outside with a gun in its holster and a baseball bat at the ready. He thinks he’s Rambo, even in his old age.”
I giggle and it feels so good to giggle.
I empty my suitcase and pack it fresh, laughing when Izabella picks up some of my lacy undergarments. “Well… these are pretty.” I snatch them from her hand while laughing and stuff them into my case. “Your bedroom is so organized. Maybe even more so than mine and I pay a person. Perhaps I should start paying you.”
“I might take you up on that soon,” I jest, thinking of the notice I handed in to Mr. C today.
“You’re quitting your job?”
I nod and let her assume it’s because of Pax.
“That’s probably for the best, get you out of that psychopath’s environment.” I’m surprised she agrees so easily. “Unfortunately, even in this era men still outrank women when it comes to harassment.”
Izabella is more the type to tell me to not let him win and to fight for the job I love. So, this has confused me to no end.
“You’re right.” I sigh heavily, feeling the weight of everything pressing on my shoulders and back. “I’m so tired, I’m still hungover after last night. I’m not going to be good company,” I add on a whisper and she cups my cheeks with her hands.
“We’ll get you home, run you a bath, get you fed and rested and you’re to take tomorrow off.”
I don’t tell her that it’s my day off anyway I just nod, zip up my neatly packed case and head out after her.
Mario is waiting by the door like she said with a baseball bat in his hand. When he sees me, he gives me a sideways hug and leads us to his car.
I sit in the back listening to them bicker like the married couple that they are as they drive me to their house, which is a good hour away. Pax won’t follow us there. I hope. Maybe I should have gotten a hotel instead. What if he damages their property too?
Chapter Twenty-Three
He makes time for his wonderful family.
It’s late, really late, maybe one in the morning when I hear the door open and then feel the bed dip beside me, startling me so strongly I turn over, ready to spray mace and blind us both. I’ve not slept yet. I’m tired but I don’t feel safe and I don’t have my own bedding. I don’t think I’ve stopped crying either for a while. When do tears run out? I once read that if you keep crying and crying, eventually you just fall asleep.
That hasn’t happened yet.
“Ezra?” I whisper as he pushes his arm under my neck and pulls me into his body. He’s on top of the quilt so there’s a good two inches of thick padding separating us.
“Shhh,” he whispers soothingly while tucking my head under his chin. “We’ll fix this. I swear it.”
I absorb his warmth and kindness, feeling safe for the first time since that plane touched down.
I don’t care that this might be inappropriate or against the rules. I don’t care if this upsets anybody. I just care that right now I feel safe and protected and warm. My trembling body slowly calms down and I feel my breath even out. He holds me tight until I tug on the blanket, needing more of his body than what he should give me.
He looks at the door and then back and me and rolls off the covers before pulling them back and climbing back in bed with me.
We tangle together again, my thigh between his, my head on the same pillow as his. I hold him tight like I don’t ever want to let go, and truth be told, I don’t. Our eyes meet in the dark and he strokes my cheek with the tips of his fingers. It feels so nice and relaxing, but also arousing.
“I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you back,” I say quietly, and he pushes my hair back.
“I’m sorry I kissed you at all,” he replies just as quietly, and I know in my heart he means because of how he upset me and not because he didn’t want to kiss me. The look in his eyes is showing me that he still does. I wonder if the look in mine is begging him to kiss me again. I might not say no this time. “Try to sleep.”
I press my forehead to his cheek and close my eyes on his command. He tickles my arm and shoulder as I concentrate on the beating of his heart.
It lulls me to sleep, my forbidden lullaby.
I’m awoken by the sound of Izabella hissing in the darkness, though I don’t open my eyes. I daren’t see the face of the woman who just walked in on her married son in bed with another.
