Not Mine to Keep (The Costa Family)

“Sir, the jet is ready. We’re set to fly out.” My head of security, Javier, stood in the doorway of my office, only two hours after I’d learned the theory about Gabriel. I still wasn’t ready to bite. Innocent until proven guilty in my eyes.

“If you’re here, that means so is my wife.” He had instructions to never let her out of his sight.

“Yes, sir. But she insisted on coming up instead of waiting in the car. She ran into your father by the elevators. He’s with her now.”

Shit. On my feet, I circled my desk and made a quick exit to save her from whatever nightmare of a conversation my old man might put her through.

When I spotted the two of them talking, what I hadn’t expected was to see my dad laughing, and she was still talking, speaking quickly with her hands. Also, what in God’s name was she wearing?

I went still, and Javier slammed into me at my abrupt stop. “Sorry, sir.”

Looking back over my shoulder, I reminded him, “How many times have I told you to drop the sir? You’re older. Did two more tours of duty than I did, had a higher rank, plus have a Purple Heart. I should be sir-ing you.”

Javier smirked, then came up next to me. I planned to hang back and continue watching the scene unfold between Calliope and my father, since they’d yet to realize they had eyes on them. “Can I speak candidly?”

“When have you not?”

“I’m glad you’re taking her on this trip. The whole team has been listening to her practicing for the last week, and she has a voice that should be shared, heard by more than just us. And you have my word I won’t let anything happen to her.”

I’m not a fan of sharing, even her voice, but I guess . . . “She’s not mine to keep,” I said under my breath.

“I don’t understand.”

“Ignore me.” I looked over at him and nodded. “And thank you; I know you’ll keep her safe.”

“Oh, there he is. The man we’ve been talking about,” my father called out, and I looked over to see Calliope hanging back behind him, like he was her shield.

Yeah, someone needed to protect her from me, especially in that outfit, but I never thought it’d be my dad.

“Who you’ve been laughing about, you mean,” I corrected him, then stalked their way, feeling the ridiculous need to snatch her hand and drag her back to my office and lay into her about . . . well, something.

“Never.” Dad winked at her. “The laugh was about a story she was telling me involving a cow, chicken, and what was the third animal? Right, a coyote.”

“I grew up on a farm,” she tossed out, reading my puzzled look.

I blinked, oddly hurt she’d never told me that before, which was ridiculous. Almost as absurd as whatever story she’d told my father. “And how’d that pop up in conversation?”

“Not really sure,” she said, and I hated that the quick look toward my father and their smile at one another had my pulse flying the way it did.

This was why I didn’t want her near Mom or Izzy. It was too damn easy to get attached to this woman. She could capture the hearts of millions with a smile alone. But a laugh? Fuck, she could end wars. A siren, all right. “I need a word with my wife before we leave.” I faced Javier. “We’ll be downstairs in a minute.”

“Roger that,” Javier answered with a nod.

“Well, Calliope, have a wonderful show tonight.” Dad held her forearm, then leaned in and pecked her on the cheek. Then my old man shoulder-checked me while walking by, and I felt his message loud and clear: Don’t break her heart.

“Come on.” I tipped my head, motioning for her to follow me to my office, and it took us a good ten minutes to walk fifty steps because the woman kept talking to everyone she met on the way.

“Sit,” I hissed once we were alone, her shoulders startling when I palmed the door shut with too much intensity.

She glared at me, shooting me daggers instead of offering the same taste of sweetness she’d given my father and the five other people she’d talked to in passing on our way there. “You didn’t come home last night.”

The potential Gabriel problem was now a distant memory with this problem standing before me in that light-yellow sundress—that better not be see-through when the light hits it—and cowgirl boots. Her wavy blonde locks covered her breasts and hid her ears, but I’d bet a million dollars she had those little music-note studs on she loved to wear.

“You going to talk or keep staring at me like you hate me?” she asked, enough sassy energy in her voice to power half of New York.

“Ever going to do as I asked and sit?”

She whipped her arms in defiance across her chest and lifted her chin, not budging. “Maybe my ass hurts too much to do that.”

“Thin ice, dammit,” I warned, angry for giving in and spanking her, because what if I had hurt her? Of course, from the feel of her pussy, that part of her, at least, had enjoyed it.

“The ice broke last night, or have you forgotten?” she hissed back.

I bowed my head and gripped my temples. I couldn’t face off with Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey right now, not in that dress and wearing those boots, with my handprint on her ass cheek, and that tone of voice of hers that had me wanting to christen this desk, too. Yesterday had been a mistake, but I’d hoped I’d at least get her out of my system. Instead, I was pretty sure I wanted her now more than I had before. What is wrong with me?

“Why didn’t you come home?” She tamed her tone that time. The sound of her boots clicking across my floors had me looking up to see her finally sitting, and she didn’t appear to be uncomfortable.

But hell, I was now. Bad idea to have her sit. I wanted to drop to the floor before her, spread her legs open, and taste her again.

“You just dismissed me like I was a prostitute and you were done with me.”

The break in her voice would’ve done me in just fine, but those words? Fuck me, they were bullets to the chest.

“What?” I swallowed the fist-size lump down my throat, and against my better judgment, walked over to the couch to look her in the eyes.

Her hands were on her lap, and she fidgeted with the rings, not giving me her attention. “I know you think last night was a mistake, and you’re probably now over whatever, uh, desire you had for me. The thrill of the chase is gone. And I—”

“Stop.” Because really, I couldn’t handle any more. Not another word based on the direction she was heading. “Please,” I tacked on, doing my best to deploy a little more kindness in my voice that time.

Kindness got me her eyes and her biting her lip.

Now I had to turn away. “I couldn’t sleep in the same room with you because I’d wind up in your bed,” I admitted, also against my better judgment. But I didn’t need her feeling cheap, used, or unwanted. Furthest thing from the truth.

“Wait, you still want me after what happened?”

I swiveled back around, unsure what to say, but then her gaze fell to her answer. I looked down to see my traitorous dick tenting my dress pants. “Safe to say that’d be a yes.” Why lie now? My cock had betrayed whatever BS I’d planned to say next. “You do realize it’s not just me suffering,” I began in some pathetic attempt to cover up my real feelings, ones I wasn’t supposed to be having. “You’re going to make every man you pass hard as a fucking rock when you walk by them today.”

She stood and set her hands on her hips like she was about to school me with that sassy tongue of hers.

“You planning on wearing that for your show tonight?” I asked, the words punching out hard and fast before I could stop them.

“No. Probably something sexy.”

If she didn’t define what she had on now as sexy, I was fucked.

She lifted a brow, waiting for me to snap. Too late. Already had. “Maybe you should consider changing, too. It’d be nice if you could blend in, so you don’t stand out in your ten-thousand-dollar suit.” She came closer, and I caught a whiff of whatever delicious scent she wore, making me a little dizzy. “And if you plan to tell me not to wear—”

“No, I don’t,” I said, not letting her finish. “My personal assistant hates doing my laundry when I get blood on white clothes, so I need to make sure I wear something dark.”

“Why would you get blood on your clothes tonight?” She stared at me as if genuinely confused.

Makes two of us, given my reaction to you. “Because when some asshole tries to lift your dress, I’ll be breaking his nose.” And a few other body parts.

Her nose wrinkled. “I’d prefer you not break anything at my show.” But then her shoulders collapsed as if realizing the very possible reality of that happening, which told me there’d been assholes in the past who had set their hands on her without her consent. “I’ll wear something a little less sexy, then.”

I should’ve said, Good. Instead, I lost my mind again. “No. You’ll wear whatever you feel like. You shouldn’t have to change how you dress because someone can’t keep their mouth shut or their hands to themselves.” Breathing hard at the very idea of someone bothering her, I added, “You have me now to teach them that lesson if needed.” I went over to my desk, dropped my palms to it, and bowed my head, trying to pull myself together.

The click of her boots warned me she was on approach, and my body tensed in anticipation of what she might say or do next. It was a coin toss with her how she’d react when it came to these moments between us.

Her hand on my back had me squeezing my eyes closed, and I’d never been so grateful for a knock on my door as I was now.

“It’s Izzy,” my sister called out.

“One second,” I told her, needing that second to compose myself before my sister read me like a book.

Calliope removed her hand from my back. “I thought she’d spend time with me while I was here, but she’s not even called.”

“I told everyone to stay away from you. My dad decided to ignore the memo today,” I admitted while pushing away from the desk. “Also, how come I didn’t know you grew up on a farm? It wasn’t in my research.”

“I’m not a celebrity.” She rolled her eyes. “No play-by-play of every detail of my life online. And why would there be?”

“But you didn’t tell me.” Why’d this bother me so much? Sensing what was coming next, I lifted a hand and added in an asshole tone, “Roll your eyes one more time at me, and—” I cut myself off when she peered at my desk, and her cheeks pinked, as if remembering the spanking from last night. Makes two of us now. “Come in, Izzy,” I said instead.

Izzy opened up but remained in the doorway, looking at us and sensing the tension.

Yeah, well, she was one to know about tension. It’d been that way this past week whenever she was in the same room with Hudson, but I’d kept my mouth shut about her weekend staycation at his place, where he claimed nothing happened. I was also certain Hudson hadn’t told my sister about all the “hunting” we’d been doing to channel our frustrations elsewhere and away from the women in our lives.

“You going to say anything?” I prompted when Izzy only stared at us, as if she’d caught two animals going at it in the wild and was too stunned to make a comment.

“Grump,” Izzy shot back, earning a smile from Calliope.

“Wonder why, after what you told me.” Shit, I hadn’t planned to tell Calliope about Gabriel. Not until I knew if there was anything even to tell, but I’d forgotten myself with how wound up the woman made me.

“What are you talking about?” Calliope reached for my forearm, and I dropped my focus to her touch, and that was all it took for my thoughts to vault back to last night.

“We should tell her.” Izzy came in and shut the door behind her. “It’s why I caught you before you left. She shouldn’t be left in the dark.”

“It’s still a theory at best,” I said gruffly, but gestured for her to go ahead anyway, since Calliope would never let me slam the door shut on that conversation now.

Izzy did the talking while I closed my laptop and tucked it into my travel bag in preparation of heading out.

How would I survive the night in Nashville with this woman?

After Izzy finished her recap of the new problem involving Gabriel, Calliope shared, “I forgot to tell you this last night because I was distracted”—a blush worked up the column of her throat—“but Leo is onto us. Think he works with Gabriel, though.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He knows we haven’t—hadn’t, er, um . . .” I hated how much I wanted to seal my mouth over hers and catch her nerves with my tongue as she worked through what she was trying to say. “He knows,” she said with an emphatic nod, as if those two words were sufficient enough to understand.

Not wanting to force her to spell out what she was saying with Izzy present, I went ahead and said, “Not surprised Gabriel would ensure at least one of your guards was on his side.” Pinning Izzy with a hard stare, letting her know I was still on the fence about Gabriel, I added, “But we’ll keep an eye on Leo in light of this possible Gabriel-setting-this-all-up-from-the-get-go theory.”

“What if Marcello’s behind this?” Calliope asked. “Is it possible he’s trying to frame Gabriel?”

My gut reaction was no, but I wouldn’t rule anything out. “If Marcello wanted you dead, he could’ve done it long before we met, never giving us a chance to save you in the first place.” I grabbed my bag, then gestured toward the door. “And if he had any dirt on Gabriel, he would’ve shared it with Armani by now.”

“Does this change the plans for the party?” Calliope looked between Izzy and me.

“We may need to modify it a bit if Gabriel’s been screwing with us, but the party is still our timeline to end this. We’ll continue keeping Gabriel in the dark about it as well.” Izzy managed to sound more confident than I could’ve. “At least Armani and Marcello will be there, and with any luck, Rocco will decide to crash the party.”

Placing Calliope in that sadistic bastard’s line of sight was not what I wanted to think about right now.

“Is there a special place in hell for someone who helps have their father killed?” Calliope whispered, letting go of me. And were we back to that again? Guilt over that madman? “Shit, I hate when I refer to him as my dad.” She closed her eyes and visibly trembled like a chill had rocked through her, and I had to resist the urge to warm her with my body heat and calm her down.

“There’s definitely a reservation in hell for Armani and Marcello. Not you,” Izzy said before I could. “Jury’s still out about Gabriel.” She gave me her big, sad brown eyes at the last part.

Clearing my throat, my emotions mixed the fuck up about everything, I rushed out, “If you plan to rehearse tonight, then we need to go.” I wasn’t in the mood to think about Gabriel or Rocco without my mood turning south again.

Calliope opened her eyes and nodded.

“Good luck tonight.” Izzy hugged her when I wished it had been me instead. “If only I could be there, too.” She elbowed me. “Maybe record a song or two?”

“Sure,” I grumbled, then directed them both to leave the office, because I could barely breathe in there anymore.

We made it maybe five steps before my admin, Patrick, stopped us. “I couldn’t let you leave without getting to meet you.” I thought he was offering his hand to shake hers, but instead, it was to look at her wedding ring. “Looks perfect on you.”

Calliope gave him a little nod and smiled. “You have great taste, thank you.”

“Me?” Patrick slapped a hand to his chest and smirked. “Your husband dragged me and the store manager there after hours and had him teach him everything there is to know about diamonds. Took him forever to pick out the right one.”

Not what I needed her to hear or know.

Calliope’s green eyes flashed my way in surprise, and I wasn’t sure how to dig myself out of this hole.

“We have to go.” I snatched her palm with my free hand and nodded my goodbyes to everyone lingering around us. “Later.” We fast-walked to the elevators, and I dodged everyone else trying to stop my mission to extract this woman from the building without another word being said.

Once we were alone in the elevator and the doors closed, I dropped my workbag, and my wife took me by surprise when she pushed me against the wall, fisted my shirt, and kissed me.