Not Mine to Keep (The Costa Family)

An hour into the set, everything was going smoothly so far. Thankfully, Britt hadn’t followed us in. One less problem to deal with, but Braden’s required presence seemed to make Alessandro crazy. Braden had no idea he was playing with fire every time he sent me longing looks of love during our performance.

I located my husband on a barstool alongside Javier, quietly watching me instead of sitting with Nala and Imani up front.

I sure as hell didn’t want to peer into Braden’s eyes for the next song we were about to perform, “Think I’m in Love With You.” So I stared at Alessandro, unable to break eye contact when it was my turn to sing.

I’m in lust, not love. I beat the words into my head during the song.

Because no, it couldn’t be more than that. It was too soon for love. Yeah, I was a hopeless romantic, but to fall for this man would just make me plain hopeless since he’d never be able to return my feelings. Not to mention the fact I was a teacher from a small town who wanted a forever partner and lots of babies, and Alessandro was a billionaire who played vigilante at night. We were worlds apart in who we were and where we came from.

When Braden and I transitioned smoothly to the next song, “Heart Like A Truck” by Lainey Wilson, I tore my attention away from Alessandro to look around at the audience, my eyes landing last on my two friends. They were bopping their heads enthusiastically, singing along with me.

I nearly stumbled over my next words when I spied Alessandro standing. He discarded his hat on the bar top and was on the move fast, leaving the bar without so much as a parting glance my way.

What the hell?

The second the song ended, I mouthed to Braden, “I need five.”

Not waiting for him to say okay, I set aside the guitar, ignoring a man trying to make a pass at me on my way down the steps.

“You good?” Nala asked, on her feet, shooing away the creep for me since I was focused on the door, needing to chase down my husband, worried something was wrong.

“Yeah; be right back,” I murmured on the move.

Once on the crowded sidewalk, I looked around for him, finally locating him down the street talking to a woman.

Alessandro must’ve felt my presence, because he turned to the side, and even from fifty feet away, with only the street and bar lights to illuminate the area, it was obvious he was upset.

He slipped his hand into his back pocket, then handed the mystery woman something. After a quick about-face, he started my way. I’d remained glued in place. Well, mostly. I kept getting knocked into by people trying to get around me.

“You’re supposed to be onstage.” Alessandro stopped before me, frowning. Then he looked over my shoulder, and I had to assume my shadows were there. “Give us a second.” He reached for my arm and guided me into a narrow alley between two bars.

Cold from nerves and not the weather, I folded my arms, and the man didn’t miss anything, did he? He brought his hands to my biceps and slid his warm palms up and down a few times. “That was a tabloid reporter threatening to post a story about you and Braden, suggesting you’re having an affair. She sent the story and images to my assistant with a message to meet her out here. She had photos of you somehow, and—”

“What?” I gasped, ungluing my hands from just below where he kept rubbing my arms. “What photos? What does she want? I don’t understand.”

“She wants money. A lot of fucking money not to run the story. I gave her all the cash I had on me now until I can wire the rest later to kill the article.” He grimaced and let go of me, shooting a look toward the main street, probably to our security hovering there. “But there’s someone I’m going to kill.”

“What are you saying?”

He reached into his pocket for his phone and showed me a text. Attached to the message were the alleged photos of me that somehow implicated me in cheating with Braden.

“That’s not me, I swear.” I pushed away his hand as if I could make it all go away. “I’m going to kill her. That has to be Britt in the photos.”

I was shaking now; Alessandro freed his hands to hold me instead. He really was taking the whole “be sweet, not an asshole” thing tonight seriously.

“Braden may be secretly seeing her,” I finally managed, “but do you think he’d stoop this low to blackmail me with her? I can’t believe that. But I also can’t deal with this now. I need to find a way to go back in there and finish.” I pulled back to get a read on him, and he kept his hands locked around my waist. “How do I go back in there, though?”

“Because this is your dream,” he said with grit in his tone, “and you’re not letting them win or take this night and what it means from you.” His brows slanted as he peered at my mouth. “Also, you took my breath away back in there, and I want to hear you sing more.” His unexpected compliment had me wanting to cry. “And I wasn’t even a fan of country music before you.”

“You just didn’t know what you were missing,” I whispered as his eyes made their way back to mine, and that sincere look was somehow everything I needed and then some.

“I’m thinking I didn’t,” he rasped, and we both stared quietly at each other before he added, “You can do this, though. You’re one of the strongest women I know.”

I attempted to killjoy the moment. “Guess that’s saying something since you know a lot of women.” At his eye roll, I slid my palm up his chest. “There you go again. But your eye roll is way broodier than mine, and a bit more subtle. I’ll have to teach you to do it more dramatically. Like how my students have taught me.”

“Work in progress, remember?” A teasing smile played across his full mouth. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get the show back on.”

“Pretty sure you added a southern twang to that ‘sweetheart,’ just to get me to bend to your will and do whatever you want. Almost as effective as when you speak Italian to me.”

“If I knew that’s all it’d take to get you to bend to my will, I—”

“Forget I said that,” I interjected and chuckled, then he freed me from his hold and offered his hand to walk side by side back to the show.

“You good?” Leo asked us once we joined him and Javier on the sidewalk, and Alessandro only quietly nodded.

When we returned to the bar, Alessandro walked me over to the stage, and at the sight of me, Braden snatched his guitar.

“You got this.” Alessandro palmed my cheek, then took me by surprise and leaned in and kissed me. It was soft and sweet, and probably for show, but my heart fluttered at the gesture anyway.

I forced open my eyes after the kiss ended, finding his grays focused on me. That was a look I’d never seen him wear before; my writer’s block snatched the words from my head as to how to describe it, but I wanted to cement it to memory. It sure as hell looked a lot like love.

He cleared his throat, like he was trying to break free from whatever bubble we both seemed to be locked inside. A little nod of reassurance from him, then I climbed the short steps to the stage.

“What was that all about?” Braden asked on my way to the keyboard in preparation for the next song.

“I’ll tell you after,” was all I could get out. The only way I’d survive the show was to keep my eyes on Alessandro.

That plan worked. He somehow grounded me by his very presence, helping me survive the rest of the evening.

When our time was up, Braden set down his guitar and came right for me. He scooped me into his arms without warning and bear-hugged me.

Oh, shit. I went still, my arms outstretched, not wanting to return the embrace, and from the corner of my eye, I noticed Alessandro on his way over. “Let me go.”

“Shit. Sorry.” Braden quickly unhanded me.

“Did you know?” I whispered, catching sight of Nala and Imani near the stage, anxious to talk to me.

“Know what?” Braden stared at me, confused.

“Britt sold photos to a reporter claiming they were of me and you. She told the reporter I cheated on my husband with you. During the show, the woman asked for money, and—”

“Are you serious?” He tore a hand through his hair, stumbling back, nearly tripping over the guitar stand.

“What?” Imani blurted in shock, clearly overhearing me. I discovered Alessandro now at the steps, waiting for me alongside her.

His restraint tonight was impressive, because mine was being tested at every turn. “Tell me you had nothing to do with that,” I said to Braden, needing to finish this conversation before my husband did it for me.

“Of course I didn’t,” Braden answered, adding a shake of his head.

With the next band coming up to prep, we’d need to go and talk outside.

Not wasting time, I headed down the steps and nodded my thanks to one of the guards on Javier’s team swapping places with me to pack up my equipment.

Nala hugged me. Imani next.

“You okay?” Nala asked as Alessandro reached for my hand.

“I just need to get out of here,” I said, eyes on him, and he didn’t hesitate. He walked us out of there before Braden or anyone else could object.

Thankfully, the limo was waiting for us outside, but I had other plans for where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do. I spun around to see Braden there, looking as uncomfortable as I felt.

“Tell me why that reporter has photos of you and Britt together and she’s under the assumption it’s me in the pictures instead,” I demanded in as steady a voice as possible, ignoring the limo door being opened for me by Javier.

“I was upset about you marrying this guy”—Braden motioned toward Alessandro holding me at his side—“and I ran into Britt and told her I didn’t know if you’d even make it to the show. I was drunk, and it . . . it was a mistake. I never would’ve slept with her had I been in the right state of mind, and you have to know that. I had no fucking clue she had a camera set up.”

“Lower. Your. Voice,” Alessandro hissed, each word slicing through the air. I realized he’d saved Braden’s life when he probably wanted to end it, because Frankie was on his way toward us, and if he learned what happened and told Armani, Armani wouldn’t hesitate to take Braden out.

“The thing is that I, uh, think I’m in love with you,” Braden said, his voice breaking, drawing my focus back his way. “I’ve been a mess about your marriage. I was stressed and drunk. I’m sorry.”

Alessandro erased the space between himself and Braden, but instead of snapping his neck, he shocked me by saying, “If you really loved her, no amount of alcohol or stress would have you screwing someone else.” He stabbed at the air without laying a hand on him. “You wouldn’t notice other women anymore. They’d cease to exist,” he went on, his tone low and deep. “And maybe she drives you crazy, and she’s either headstrong with a sassy mouth or a nervous fidgeter, but—” He cut himself off, and, well, I would’ve loved to know where he’d planned to go with that.

Instead of asking for him to continue, I told him, “I want to go home.”

“Javier,” Alessandro said without losing hold of my eyes, “call the pilot. Tell him to meet us at the airport.” Still staring at me, not blinking or moving, he added, “Have her equipment and our stuff from the hotel sent over. And escort her friends wherever they want to go.”

“Thank you, Javier.” I looked toward Nala and Imani, opting to ignore Braden still not taking the cue to leave. “I’m sorry to bail on our girls’ night.”

“Don’t be sorry.” They both reached for me in a group hug. “Go be with your man at home. We’ll deal with this problem here for you,” Nala said, and I was so freaking grateful for her and Imani.

We said our goodbyes, and Alessandro helped me into the limo. Without a word or blows delivered, he slid in next to me and tossed the cowboy hat on the seat across from us.

“I’m not sure if Braden and I can be friends after tonight,” I said as the limo pulled away from the curb. “And how could Britt do that to me?” The tears I’d kept at bay flew down my cheeks.

He hooked his arm behind me, pinning me to his side, and my cheek met his chest. The beats of his heart hammered into my ear. “Because she’s jealous of you, that’s why.”

I wasn’t sure if I believed that, but his words triggered a memory of something Nala had said to me before I’d found out Britt had slept with Dylan last year: She’s the kind of friend that points out your crown is slipping, not quietly helps fix it.

After a few quiet minutes had passed, I fisted his shirt and looked up at him in the dim lighting. “No blood on it.”

“Shocking, I know. But some things can be way more painful than getting struck.”

I released his shirt. “Like what?”

“Like losing a woman like you.” He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, letting me know he needed time to calm down. I’d give it to him, because I knew how hard it’d been for him to rein in his anger and not hurt Braden.

We both remained quiet for the rest of the ride. Heck, neither of us uttered a word to each other until we were at cruising altitude in the jet, when he stood and offered his hand with a simple “Come with me” request. “You should lie down,” he added as I followed him into the bedroom. Once the door was shut, he urged me to sit and began removing my boots for me.

“Lie down with you?”

“Yes, with me,” he said once he was standing before me. “You asked me to be sweet, didn’t you?” He pointed to the bed. “This is me keeping my promise.”

Ohhh. I climbed farther onto the bed, tensing when he joined me. My back met his chest, and he wrapped me in his arms, holding me in place.

It didn’t take me long to loosen up. To feel at home in his arms. And that scared me. Because he still wasn’t mine to keep. So I attempted to killjoy the moment with a joke. “A for effort on being sweet.”

Not missing a beat, he responded, “Grading me, huh? Very teacher-y of you.”

“Don’t act like you hate that,” I found myself saying, and he lightly groaned and held me tighter. And yeah, I could feel just how much he definitely didn’t hate it with his cock at my ass.

“Sleep,” he commanded.

“Yes, sir,” I murmured.

“You love to torture me, don’t you?” His hand at my waist slid down to my bare outer thigh below the jean shorts, and a flash of warmth and heat traveled between my thighs.

“Only as much as you do me,” I admitted. “We’re both masochists, apparently.” Resisting the impulse to join the Mile High Club—because now was not the time or place to test our control—I reached for his hand and moved it back to a safer place. “Thank you for tonight. For everything. And for your restraint with Braden.” I closed my eyes. “And most of all, thank you for this.”