Only, I’m not sure about his intentions toward me. Since that day, he’s shadowed me wherever I go. Oh, he hasn’t made a move on me or anything like that… I wish he would. That way, I’d know what he wants from me.
No, he simply watches me with that gray-blue gaze of his that seems to peer into my soul. Wonder what he sees, though? Probably my larger-than-normal bust, no doubt. It’s the bane of my life. Every time I want to be taken seriously for my work as a doctor, my breasts get in the way. Hell, during my final examinations, where I had to present my paper to a team of supervisors—all men, of course—the assholes couldn’t take their gazes off of my tits. I’ve learned it’s best to play them down by wearing high-collared shirts. Not that it helps.
I also have thick hips and thighs that could rival Roger Federer’s. No, they aren’t hairy. They are simply quite heavy, and it’s not due to muscles. And yeah, I think they look better on Federer. On me, they just look large. Overall, I’m told that my figure is a classical hourglass one. Which I hate. Honestly, I’d do anything to have Karma’s slender, svelte figure, all gentle curves and planes, not to mention a flatter chest. But I digress.
He’s the person who accompanied me when I went to see Karma while she was pregnant.
Subsequently, she’d lost her child in an unfortunate incident when her car had been rigged with a bomb which, luckily for her, had turned out to be defective. Although... It had killed Xander, Christian’s twin. Turned out, it was their father who was behind it. The chain of events had entrenched Christian even more firmly in the inner circle of theCosa Nostra. So, the question is, why is this man, who can have any woman in the city—hell, on the continent, even—beating down the door to my bedroom?
"Go away," I yell as I slap my hands over my ears. "Get the hell away from me…you…you asshole!"
"Now, play nice, Flower," Christian drawls. I can hear him from the other side of the bedroom door.
Hell, I can all but feel the heat of his body as it permeates through the wood, which is likely my imagination. But every time I’ve been near him, it’s as if I’ve stepped past a furnace. The man has so much vitality, he can probably light up an entire Christmas tree by his proximity. I snort.
That’s fanciful thinking. Probably because I spent Christmas Day shut up in here, feeling sorry for myself. Hell, even criminals in jails get to celebrate Christmas. I spent it locked up here, and except for the brief time on Christmas Eve when Christian came in to check on me and lent me his phone so I could call Karma, I was alone. At least, I didn’t starve. The fridge is always full of food, as is the pantry, so there’s more than enough to eat.
Still, it didn’t fill the void of being alone, on the one day of the year when every family is together. Well, every family except my own. We have never been big on Christmas. Mostly, my father would be on call due to one emergency or another. I can count on my fingers how many Christmas Eve's he'd actually been home. So, it had been my mother, sister, and me. And then, my mother had died, and while I had tried to make an attempt at arranging festivities, I have to admit, I hadn't been very successful.
Karma had wanted to organize a Christmas gathering, but Xander’s death, and then her losing her baby, had put a damper on that. Christian had updated me that she was spending time in London and had even given me his phone to speak with her. A favor I hadn’t wanted to accept, but which I didn’t turn down, starved of company as I had been.
But everyone has a limit and I have reached mine. No way, am I going to allow myself to be shut up inside here. I want to leave this prison, go see my family, lead a normal life … Or else … I’m willing to die. Yeah, not being dramatic here…
When you live in the heart of the Mafia community, death is as much a part of life as going out to dinner is. And I—like it or not—am one of them.
I grew up surrounded by macho guys who think they own the world. And you know what? I have spent enough time among them to be able to play them at their own game. I’m not going to let one of them scare me, no matter that he happens to be big, brooding, growly, and sexy and … hot … and that he turns me on by just a glance. I’m not going to let my attraction to him get in the way. No. I’m going to tell him exactly where he can shove this awareness he seems to have for me, the one which has him pushing his shoulder into the bedroom door and applying his weight so the entire barrier shakes.
"Open the door, Flower," he rumbles, "or I’m going to break this down and come inside, and then you’re going to regret shutting me out."
Is that right? I jump up to my feet and tuck my elbows into my side.
"Last chance," he warns. "Open. The. Door."
I spin around, unlock the bedroom door, and yank it open. Just as he lunges forward.
3
Christian
I dive forward just as she pulls the door open. I careen through the doorway and toward her, managing to swerve at the last minute. Still, I don’t avoid her completely, and my shoulder brushes hers. She yells out in surprise, and her body hurtles toward the floor. I grab her and manage to get my body under hers as we hit the floor.
The back of my head hits the floor, and the breath rushes out of me. On the other hand, it may be because of the soft curves that tremble against my chest, her breath that shivers against my throat, or her sweet scent like honeysuckle and crushed rose petals that teases my nostrils and goes straight to my head. The blood rushes to my groin and my cock thickens. She pushes off of me, or at least tries to, for I’ve thrown my arm around her waist and hold her in place.
"Let me go," she snarls.
"No." I sit up, then wince when the bump on the back of my head protests. I ignore the pain, push myself up to standing, still holding her close.
"What the hell are you doing?" she hisses as I head toward the bed with her in my arms.
"Let me the hell go," she slaps her palm against my chest, "right now."
"Fine." I lower my arms, and she hits the floor on her ass.
"Ow!" She grunts, then stares up at me, a shocked expression on her face. "You … you dropped me?" she stutters. "Like, honest to God, you allowed me to crash to the floor?"
"You asked me to let you go," I remind her. "I was only obliging you."
"Asshole," she snaps, then pushes up to stand to her full height, which still means she hits somewhere below my breastbone.