Not Mine to Keep (The Costa Family)

New York City

“Please, call me—”

Alessandro cut off his mother before she could say her name, and they began rapidly speaking in Italian. I looked back and forth, following the Ping-Pong match between them, unsure what to say or do.

I hadn’t known his parents would be meeting us at the airport. From the look of Alessandro’s shocked face when the jet door had opened, he’d been equally clueless of their plans.

Alessandro’s brothers, father, and Hudson were now outside the hangar, talking away from Frankie’s and Leo’s ears—and yeah, they’d been the ones Armani had chosen to send with us.

I turned to see Izzy beckoning me off to the side of what was becoming a heated conversation between Alessandro and his mother.

“They could go at it all day,” Izzy said as she guided me away from them.

“What are they talking about?” I asked her.

“I can’t hear them now, but he’s worried she’s going to get attached to you. And then it’ll be too hard for her to lose you when the inevitable divorce happens.”

“It’s sweet of him to protect her,” I said as Alessandro peered at me. Twenty feet apart didn’t erase my ability to see his pained irritation.

The man had spoken all of a handful of words on the jet—none of which had been to me. “Don’t talk to my wife. Look at her. Or even think about her. And I won’t throw you from the plane,” he’d ordered Frankie and Leo before taking a seat and keeping his mouth shut the rest of the way.

“He wants to protect you, too, you know,” Izzy said, her tone light. “You’ll get attached to Mom as well. It’ll just hurt all around when the time comes for you to leave us.” There was a sad edge to her tone now that was like a knife to the heart. “Alessandro is uber protective. He tries to act like a tough guy, but he’s a—”

“Teddy bear.” I repeated what she’d said to me yesterday. Maybe she’d forgotten she’d given me the heads-up, pre-wedding. I surely hadn’t.

“And he hides that inner teddy bear beneath a few layers of asshole,” she said with a light laugh. “But, um, how’s the fallout going from the story breaking about the marriage? Your phone must be blowing up from your friends.”

“I don’t have a ton of friends. My close circle is like a dot. People tend to break my trust, so I don’t give it out so much these days.” I hadn’t meant to overshare, but her little nod was as if she was on the same page and understood me. “I did speak with my principal over email on the plane. She said there are parents asking me to resign. She’s giving me time to consider what feels more like an ultimatum.”

“Damn.” Izzy squeezed my arm. “I’m so sorry.”

“I could be dead from being attacked in the park or married to Rocco, so I guess I should focus on the positives for now.” I had to convince myself of that, at least, so I didn’t spiral about my potential forced resignation. “As long as my aunt doesn’t learn about this disaster of a situation, I can handle almost anyone else.”

“We sent one of our guys from the security office to keep an eye on her as well. Try not to worry.” Izzy had my heart climbing into my throat.

“You did? Why didn’t Alessandro tell me?” I focused back on the man full of surprises as he threw a hand in the air, and from the looks of it, he was being lectured hard.

“It was his idea. He has a lot on his mind, though. Probably forgot to mention it.” Izzy unhanded me and reached into her purse and offered me an iPhone. “He asked me to get you a new one. New number as well. You know, to avoid reporters. I, uh, programmed all his numbers in there. Mine, too.”

I clasped it between my palms and gave her a nod of thanks.

“Well, he’s on his way.” She pointed as Alessandro strode over. “Good luck with him. If you need me, call, okay?”

“Thank you.” I hugged her. “I really appreciate that.”

“We should get going,” Alessandro remarked, his first words to me since we’d left Italy. “I have to drop you off at my place, make sure security is set up, then head to the office for a board meeting.”

“Yeah, okay.” I twisted toward the exit, but he snatched my wrist.

“My stubborn mother wants to have a dinner party tomorrow night. I told her that wouldn’t be happening. If she calls you on that new phone of yours, because I’m sure she had Izzy add her number, please ignore her. Do not give in.” His eyes fell to the iPhone I’d forgotten was in my hand. “Okay?”

“You want me to send your mother’s calls to voicemail?” Was he kidding?

“Please do.” He let go of me and reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket; he’d changed into a gray three-piece suit aboard the flight, making me feel seriously underdressed in my jeans and tee. Retrieving his sunglasses, he pointed with them toward the Range Rover parked outside. “That will be your ride this summer. If you go anywhere without me, someone from my team will accompany you along with those two idioti of your father’s.”

“You’re going to let me go out without you? I’m shocked.” I’d envisioned him holding me captive for “my own good” all summer.

“You’re not my prisoner,” was all he said before walking ahead of me. He didn’t go too far, just to the passenger door of the black Range Rover, and he opened it and waited for me.

“What, no Lamborghini?” I jested, unable to help myself.

“Only two seats. Need security,” he said, as if not recognizing I was being a smartass.

“You seem to be all I’ve needed so far.” That part wasn’t a joke. The man could handle me in more ways than one.

He lowered his sunglasses to meet my eyes, shook his head, then motioned for me to get a move on.

I managed a thank-you for the door holding, then slid inside. Leo was in the passenger seat up front, so we were saved from Frankie’s presence for now.

Alessandro palmed my door shut with a loud thud, then went over to his brother Enzo and hugged him before Enzo started back inside the hangar. Was he heading back to his wife? I was pretty sure he’d said Enzo lived in Charlotte.

Alessandro exchanged a few words with his family and Hudson, then joined me in the SUV and told our driver to get a move on. He kept his eyes on his phone, rapidly firing messages.

He didn’t speak to me until he had me alone in the fancy closet of our bedroom at his penthouse.

“How’d you do this?” My fingers flew across my clothes all neatly hung up inside the luxurious walk-in. My wardrobe only took up one sad side of the massive space that was larger than my bedroom back home. “How’d you—?”

He leaned inside the doorframe of the closet, casually observing me. “I had my assistant send a team to pack up your stuff and get it here ASAP.”

“When? How?” Also, your people went through my personal things? Underwear? How lovely.

He sighed as if annoyed by my questions, then peeked at his fancy watch. “I don’t know. With the time difference, it was still early yesterday before we went to bed, and my people work fast when I ask them to do something.”

I did another double take of the massive closet. “Where are your things?”

“In the other closet.”

“Another closet?” I blinked. “Of course a billionaire would have two closets like this.”

“Mine’s smaller. Thought you’d need the bigger one. Clearly, I was wrong.” He pushed away from the doorframe, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, then offered me a credit card. “For shopping.”

I waved his hand away. “I don’t need anything. I’m good.”

“You might.” He nudged it my way, but I refused to take it. I was his job, not his mistress. I wouldn’t act like my mother once had with Armani—shopping on his dime.

“Fine.” He put away the card and quietly left the closet. I followed him like a lost sheep unsure where to go, and I hated myself for that. But this was new territory.

I was in a penthouse in the sky—literally, we were in the sky, because clouds loomed just outside the bedroom window—and this was all madness.

Frankie and Leo were currently with Alessandro’s security team going over things, and Alessandro’s meeting was in an hour, so we didn’t have much more time alone. So if I had questions for him, now was the time to ask them.

I spied a couch that looked out of place alongside one wall, wondering if that was the pull-out bed he’d said he wanted to buy before we arrived. His people really did work fast.

“I should take the couch,” I said at the sight of his king-size bed, which had a gunmetal-gray comforter, a perfect match to his steely eyes.

Facing me, he adjusted the knot of his red tie. It was the first time I’d seen the man wear color. “No. You’ll take the bed.”

“Maybe I don’t want to, considering how many miles it must have on it.” Welp, if Alessandro hid his inner teddy bear beneath layers of “asshole,” then I hid my sweet side with sarcasm and sass.

“Zero miles.” He emphasized his comment by making an O with his hand. “I had my assistant buy a new mattress in case you had such ideas. Not that I’ve ever slept overnight with anyone in my room.”

“I didn’t mean sleep-sleep.” Trying to push away the unwanted feelings of jealousy that other women had been in this room, moaning out his name, I rasped, “You probably have a sex room, anyway. Or a separate apartment for hookups?”

“Gee, tell me what you really think of me,” he ground out, then began muttering in Italian.

“I just want to make sure I never accidentally walk in on you doing it somewhere in this maze of a penthouse. Is there a certain room I should avoid?”

He stalked across the hardwood and came before me, that angry look he sported so well on display—tense jaw, flared nostrils, and disdain in his eyes.

“I know you can’t let the guards see you with someone else, but I’m not naive enough to think you’re going to go all summer without sex.” I slapped my arms across my chest, feeling the need to put up a guard with him so close and staring at me like I was next on his kill list.

“There’s one thing you need to know about me.” He pointed at his chest. “I may have a certain reputation when it comes to women, but I’m not a cheat. And before you say I don’t do relationships to have ever had a chance to cheat, so I don’t know if I can be faithful—I do, in fact, know,” he gritted out. “And there are no sex rooms here, dammit.” I opened my mouth to say something, but then he leaned in and added, “So let me be crystal clear. I will not touch or so much as look at another woman while we’re married. End of story.”

“But what about your needs? You’re giving up sex for me? For a job? I don’t think I can ask you to do that.” Although, the idea of him being with another woman made me sick, not that I had a right to feel that way.

“Do you plan to have sex with anyone else while you’re my wife?” His bladed jawline became an edge you could sharpen a dull knife on as he stared at me.

“Of course not.”

The slight droop of his shoulders let me know he was relieved to hear that. “As for my needs, I can go three months without sex. It’s not your problem to worry about.”

So our hands will be busy all summer? Thankfully, I kept that comment trapped in my head.

“I have to make a few calls before I leave,” he said after a deep exhalation.

“And I’m safe here?”

“Do you think I’d go if I thought otherwise?”

Fair enough.

“No one would dare mess with my family in this city. My security is also keeping tabs on your father’s men. If they touch you, my men have my permission to kill them,” he quickly shared, no change in his tone of voice. Well, not until he added, “And we have eyes on your aunt.” He cleared his throat, and before I could thank him about protecting my aunt, he threw me off by adding, “Rocco, too, in case he gets any revenge ideas.”

Revenge ideas?

“We’ll talk about him later,” he said, reading my thoughts, then he turned and went for the door, only to abruptly stop and position his hand on the wall instead of leaving. “There’s a gym downstairs if you need to unwind. Release some . . . tension.”

Sounds like you do.

“Also, third door down on your left, there’s a music room. I had the team bring your equipment here. And the chef will be here at six to cook for you. You have my number if there’s a problem. But don’t wait up for me.”

He left before I could summon a response. Music room? He sure as hell was making this an attractive prison, even if he didn’t want to refer to it as one.All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

I didn’t waste time and followed his directions to get to the music room.

Talk about living inside a fantasy. Not the land of Delulu, either. This room, this life, was real. Well, temporarily real.

The clouds must’ve only been hanging out on the other side of the penthouse—and he occupied the entire floor—because light streamed in through the ceiling-to-floor glass windows, casting a glow over the instruments.

I slowly walked in, finding a sleek black modern desk in front of one window, my notebook and pen from my bedroom back home sitting on top of it. The pages were blank. Writer’s block and all, but maybe I’d write again?

My keyboard and guitar were there as promised. But there was another guitar case I didn’t recognize, leaning against the wall by the door.

I set it down and knelt alongside it, and I was pretty sure the blood drained from my face at what was inside.

After a few deep breaths that did nothing to appease my nerves, I rushed out to find Alessandro before he left.

Breezing past various rooms, I ran to a spiral staircase at the back end of the hall, remembering he’d said he had to make a few calls, and I was pretty sure we’d passed an office on our way up to the primary bedroom.

The office door was cracked open, and I could hear him talking. I wasn’t a fan of eavesdropping, so I went inside, where he was sitting behind a modern desk much bigger than the one in the music room with his cell to his ear. His eyes now locked with mine.

“I’m going to have to call you back.” He frowned, ended the call, and sat back in his leather chair while waiting for me to explain my interruption.

I fiddled with the wedding band as I slowly approached the desk, feeling like I was about to face off with a stranger, not a man who’d had me moaning his name while climaxing last night. “How’d you get that guitar? Someone else won it at the auction. Definitely not you. I remember. And for that matter, what’d you do with the two things you did win?”

“I made a call. Found out who won it and asked them for it,” he said casually, steepling his fingers against his lips. “Donated the items I won to charity.”

Of course you did. It’s so hard to hate you. “So you just asked for The Legend’s guitar, and they gave it to you?” I tried to chase away the chills on my arms with my palms, but touching my skin only seemed to provoke more goose bumps, especially beneath his gaze. “And what, they hand-delivered it while we were on our flight back here?”

“Your sarcasm doesn’t change facts. It is what it is. Money. It buys things. In this case, the thing you wanted,” he said bluntly. “It’s a wedding gift. I thought you’d like it, and since you have to live here when you don’t want to, I—”

“Damn you, Alessandro Costa.” Were there tears in my eyes? At the sight, he lowered his arms and stood, setting his hands on his desk as I cried out, “I hate you.” I hastily swiped at the traitorous drop of liquid that’d escaped. “I hate that you’d do something so freaking crazy for me, because it makes it hard to actually hate you.”

His eyes narrowed, jaw locking tight. “You’re confusing.”

Ditto. So much ditto it hurts.

“I can’t accept it.” I brushed away another stray tear. “Donate it, too. Please, have it taken away.”

“I don’t understand. It’s just a guitar.” He lifted his hands from the desk, tearing one through his hair, which fell perfectly back into place.

“You don’t understand what that woman’s music means to me. Her songs got me through so much in my life. And to have her guitar is everything to me.” I was going to ugly-cry. Break down.

Armani hadn’t broken me, but Alessandro buying a guitar seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Then you should have it. I truly don’t understand.” He started for me, and I shot my palms up as a plea to keep his distance.

“Maybe money can buy happiness, after all, since you could buy the guitar. But money can’t buy me,” I cried, cupping my mouth before I sobbed. That was the last thing I wanted to do in front of him. “Please, take it back.” I turned, knowing I was on the brink of losing it.

“Calliope!” he called out, and I froze in front of the doorway and slammed both hands on the frame, preparing to bolt so I could cry in private.

“What?” I whispered.

“I’m sorry. I was just trying to do something nice.” The teddy bear. There he was. That side of him would destroy my heart. Pulverize it into nothing.

“It was nice.” My shoulders broke forward. “Too nice. Not even remotely cordial. And that’s the problem,” I murmured before taking off, not wanting to give him a chance to stop me.

Once back upstairs and in our room, I went over to the bed and snatched my new phone from where I’d left it, wishing I could talk to my aunt. To cry on her shoulder about the mess I was in, but I had no one to talk to about this. Not in my very small circle of friends, either.

I blinked back tears, then startled at the message that popped up from Alessandro.

Alessandro: I’m really fucking sorry. I didn’t realize . . .

Alessandro: I’ll get rid of it.

Alessandro: I don’t know how to do this. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this.

I reread his last message a few times, trying to understand it.

Me: Done what?

I caught a few salty tears with my tongue as I watched the bubbles as he typed.

Alessandro: A relationship. I know ours is temporary, and we didn’t choose to be in this situation, but we’re here. So if I fuck up again, like with the guitar, please be patient with me, I’m a work in progress—remember?

Oh jeez. I thought back to our first conversation at the fundraiser, which was a million years ago now.

Me: You didn’t mess up It was sweet. Expensively sweet. And sweet will hurt me in the end. You’re in no danger of falling, but I think I am.

I couldn’t believe I’d admitted that to him, but he needed to know the truth. He had to know the power he already had over me. Not just my body, but my mind. And if he wasn’t careful, my heart, too.

He didn’t respond right away. No bubbles from typing. It took another solid minute before a text finally appeared.

Alessandro: I’m just not capable of falling. You get that, right? Consider me damaged goods. Defective. It’s not you, okay?

Me: Did you really just give me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech on Day Two of our marriage?

Me: Sorry, I know this isn’t a “real” marriage. Just no more sweet gestures.

It took him another minute or so to respond. Way to ramp up my nerves.

Alessandro: Roger that. Asshole it is

The wink from him.

Damn the wink.

Me: I hate you.

Me: Well, I’m sure as hell going to try.