Page 21 of Aaron

The microwave chimes, and he puts a plate overloaded with meat kebabs and rice, along with a glass of tea, in front of me. It looks delicious, and the scent of the seasoned meat and rice makes my mouth water and my stomach growl again. “Thank you, Aaron. It looks amazing.”

“You’re very welcome, princess. Eat up. We’ll talk when you’re done.”

Taking a sip of the tea, I hum my approval. It’s perfect, just the right amount of sweetness. I could easily down the whole glass, but then I’d be too full to eat any of the food that looks like something from a fancy restaurant. It’s not possible, though, is it? They’re out in the middle of nowhere. How would they get it here?

The first bite melts in my mouth. It’s seasoned perfectly, maybe Mediterranean—though I can’t figure out what type of meat it is. It’s not enough to stop me from a second bite with a little of the rice and a piece of pepper and tomato—also delicious.

“This is so good. Did you make it?” I ask after swallowing another mouthful. The way I’m shoveling this in, he’s going to think I haven’t eaten in days instead of hours. Candy counts, right?

“Asher and Emma cooked tonight. We take turns since we like to eat dinner together,” he answers after taking a drink of tea I didn’t realize he’d poured for himself.

“You eat together? Wait, who’s Emma?” I don’t remember Jaclyn mentioning any women, just the six brothers. Maybe she’s staff?

“Yes, every night. It’s something our parents insisted on. Since we moved back here, we’ve kept the tradition. It gives us all a chance to catch up on the day with each other.”

“That’s nice. When I lived at home, we only had Sunday dinner together. My father and brothers were always too busy and worked weird hours. But every Sunday, my nonna would make a huge Italian feast. After she passed, my mom hired a cook to make all the meals. It’s not the same as my nonna’s cooking. Even though I don’t like Italian food and only eat it when I’m visiting.” Geez, stop rambling, Cheri, you sound like an idiot.

“I don’t know what you just thought about, baby. But I don’t like it. What’s wrong?”

I look up from my plate and meet his gaze. He’s so close, I can feel the heat radiating from his body and struggle not to lean into him.

“Just thinking about my family. They’re different from yours.” It’s not exactly a lie, but not entirely the truth, either. Hopefully, my face doesn’t give me away.

“I’m sure they are,” Adrian says as he strides into the kitchen.

Merda. I’d forgotten about him after he disappeared with my suitcase. “I don’t know what you’re implying…” My family is a lot, but they’re mine, and I love them—most of the time. Before I can say anything else, my phone vibrates in my jeans pocket. Cavolo! It’s going to hit the fan now. I don’t need to look at the message to know who it is.

Aaron and Adrian exchange glances as I grab it and unlock the screen, biting my lip.

Cris: We’re at the gate, Rece. Tell someone to let us in, or we’ll smash our way through.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I bite my lip hard, the coppery tang of blood coating my tongue. This is bad. Quickly typing a response, I hit send, then look up at two very concerned expressions and wish the floor would open and suck me in.

seven

Aaron

Watching the color drain from Cheri’s face as she reads the message on her phone triggers all my Daddy instincts. I fight the urge to have her in my lap and promise to make everything all right. We’re not there yet, but we will be soon if I have my way. First, I need to find out what the hell spooked my princess. I know the message isn’t from Jaclyn; there’s no way Andrew would let her anywhere near a phone on their wedding night. So, who, or what, is freaking her out?

Both our phones buzz as Cheri stares at hers. Adrian pulls his phone out of his pants to check the security feed. My gaze flits between him and Cheri. He needs to let me handle whatever is happening right now. I almost hope we have a bear at the gate so he can go take care of it, while I talk to her alone. She’s mine, and I’ll be damned if he’s going to upset her more than she already is.

Cheri’s chewing on her lower lip as she puts the phone on the island and looks up at us. Her brown eyes are swimming with tears as she pushes away the strands of hair falling over her face.

I place my hand next to hers on the island top. Close enough that she can reach for me but not touching. “What’s wrong, Little one? What’s got you scared? You can tell me…us,” I say as I glance toward my brother.

He’s sitting back in his chair, looking relaxed, though I know it’s fake. But Cheri won’t. She doesn’t know how good we are at masking our true feelings.

A tear slips down her cheek, and I catch it with my fingertip and suck it into my mouth—even her tears are sweet—not that I want my baby to cry unless it’s from a red bottom. “No one will hurt you here, I promise. And I always keep my promises.”

“My brothers…” she begins, then stops and sucks her lip into her mouth again. I can’t hold back my growl.

I tilt her face toward me and pull her lip from between her teeth. “What did I say about doing that, princess?”

Her breath catches. “Only you can bite me.”

“That’s right. I won’t punish you this time, but this is your last warning, baby. Now, tell me why you’re upset about your brothers.” I try to keep my tone gentle, but the need to know what’s going on is warring with the need to protect my Little one.

When we did our background check on Jaclyn, we learned about the Santinis and their mafia affiliation, or at least Adrian and Andrew did. But it doesn’t matter. They can’t touch us. One call to Tristan and the Santinis would be sorry they ever heard the Gallant name.