“Get out, youstronzo.” He fists Tommy’s shirt, throws him out of the car.
“Whoa, take it easy, boss. She’s okay.” Junior nudges me toward my rescuer and away from him.
I tumble out of the SUV and into Bobby’s arms.
Apparently, I don’t want him to let me go because I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, clinging to him like a koala bear hugs its mama. “Bobby,” I choke.
“Lexi, sweetheart. Aw, baby, I’ve missed you so much. Are you okay?” He’s already walking away from the SUV and his associates, ignoring them as they call after him. He carries me to his car where he eases my feet to the ground.
“Babygirl, I’m so sorry.” He strokes my hair back from my face. “I never meant for this shit to touch you. It shouldn’t have.”
I hardly care about any of it. The horrible day spent with the FBI. The fright I had at the hands of his Family members. All I know is how wonderful it is to be in his arms again. To hear his voice. To be the focus of his warm gaze, the familiar kindness seeping through the trauma of the last week. Of breaking my own heart by leaving him.
“It’s not your fault.”
He shakes his head. “It’s definitely my fault. All of it, baby.” He cups my face, caressing both my cheeks with his thumbs. “You mean so much to me, and I made you feel second rate. I want to punch my own face in, baby. And now this.” He casts a black look at the FBI building.
“I didn’t squeal. They wanted me to get back together with you and wear a wire. They said they will prosecute me for tax fraud because I didn’t report tips. But I wouldn’t do it.”
“I’m so sorry. It’s bullshit, and I will take care of it. Whatever tax problem they invented, I will make it go away. I won’t let them use you to get to me.” He lowers his face to mine, until our eyes are level. “I am so sorry. I never wanted you involved in any of my troubles.”
“It’s probably my own fault—for calling you at home that night.”
“Shh. No. It’s my fault. And I’ll fix it. Regardless of whether you take me back or not, okay?” He rubs my arms. “I love you, and I wouldn't leave you hanging out to dry. You don’t have to sleep with me or be my girl. I’ll take care of it for you.”
I blink at him, my breath stalled in my throat. “You…what?”
He cradles my face. “I’ll take care of it.”
“No, back it up a little more. Before that.”
Bobby’s smile holds a world of regret. “I love you, Lex. I’m sorry I had my head up my ass. I should have told you that you were more than an arrangement. I just…” He shakes his head.
“I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m…a little bent when it comes to relationships. I like to be in charge in the bedroom, so it got me off to feel like I own you. And I know that is inherently disrespectful, but I truly meant you no disrespect by it. This last week without you has made me realize that what you and I had—what we have—is something special. It goes way beyond some arrangement we made for you to stay in my apartment. And it would be there even without any kind of power structure. You get me. And I get you. And we like knowing how to tweak each other.
“And I’m sorry if it seemed like I didn’t deem you worthy enough to be a girlfriend or a wife. That’s not the case. I would marry you tonight, if you would have me. I want you back, Lex, any way you’ll take me. On your terms.”
A couple tears spill down my cheeks, but my heart lightens, as if the bands constricting it over the past week snapped, and it can expand to fill my whole chest. “I love you, too,” I whisper.
He snatches me up, clutching me against his chest so tightly I can't breathe.
“Will you take me back?”
“Yes,” I rasp.
He hustles me into the car and gets behind the wheel.
“Where are we going?”
“Where do you want to go?” he counters.
“If I say I want to be your wife, you’ll marry me right now?” I test.
He nods. “We’ll probably have to fly back to Vegas because it’s too late here, but yeah. Absolutely.”
I smile. “I don’t think that’s what I want. I was just checking.”
He catches my hand and brings my fingers to his lips. “All right. So what do you want?”