Not Mine to Keep (The Costa Family)

“Did you sleep there all night? Or are you just an early riser?” Callie covered her mouth, hiding a yawn, then peeked at the alarm clock. “Wait, you’re dressed. So you—”

“Yeah, I slept on the couch.” I rose from the uncomfortable piece of furniture meant for looks and not for thirty-nine-year-old backs. “I think I’ll have a couch with a pull-out bed added to my bedroom before we get to New York today. I can’t sleep next to you.”

After she’d tossed and turned for an hour, she’d finally passed out, but it hadn’t taken her long to plant her body right up against me. And the woman was a damn furnace.

Like a cat, arching and curling tight to my side, she’d hooked one leg over mine. I’d remained still, doing my best not to further entangle our limbs. But since I’d been on my side facing her when she’d decided to do gymnastics and a one-eighty, she’d positioned her ass against my dick, and how the hell was I supposed to sleep like that?

I’d gone into the bathroom, rubbed one out again, then shut off the lights and slept on the couch.

Callie sat all the way up, resting against the headboard I’d had to bang against the wall last night. She unleashed her hair from the bun, and the messy locks framed her angelic face. “Why not?”

You know damn well why. “Because maybe I do bite.” I was pissed for reasons she didn’t know yet. Unreasonable reasons, sure. “You move around a lot in your sleep. It was annoying,” I grumbled as she swung her long, sexy legs around and stood. “I’m not used to sharing a bed.”

“Right, I forgot. A regular Casanova. Wine, dine, bang, and move on,” she sassed me right back.

“Looks like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” I grumbled, in the mood to spar after the messages from Braden I’d shamelessly read on her phone after taking it back from Marcello ten minutes ago.

On her knees by her suitcase, she looked up and snapped, “At least I woke up in a bed, Mr. Attitude.” She focused back on digging through her bag, and yeah, hello, itchy palm. I did, in fact, want to smack that ass of hers. “Also, for your information, no one’s ever complained about me being annoying while sleeping next to me.”

The mental gymnastics it took me doing to forget the image she’d painted of sharing a bed with other men was too much.

“That didn’t sound right.” She cut off my thoughts, which were about to edge into the realm of murdering a half dozen people, and at the top of the list was Braden. “I’ve only lived with one guy. I didn’t mean to make it sound like, um . . .”

And now the one guy she’d lived with was on that list, too. My death count was going to grow, the longer this woman was in my life.

Fully facing me, her shoulders slumped as if she were ready to give up the fight inside her already, which was a little shocking. She’d just put on her gloves. “Are you mad at me?” She blew away a hair in her face, making a dramatic humph sound. “For what happened last night, I mean? Is that why you’re all snarly and grumpy?” Her beautiful eyes cut to my bad arm. Although it really was just a flesh wound. I could lose the bandage. “Or is pain catching up with you?”

I locked my arms across my chest, and my back muscles yelled at me from the movement. “I think it’s best if we keep some distance is all, don’t you?”

“How do you propose we do that?” She angled her head, catching my eyes. “Ohhh.” A little nod from her in understanding before she added, “My heartbreaker husband is worried about my fragile little heart, so you plan to be a dick to me?”

“You’re clearly not made of glass.” I actually wasn’t trying to be a dick that time. I was just still pissed at the secret she was keeping from me. “I don’t plan to be an ass,” I conceded while she stared me down, gloves back on. Not that it’d be a fair fight. Because I’d never raise a hand to her, and I’d let her whack me all she wanted. Although Little Miss Tennessee would only throw verbal jabs at me, I had a feeling those would be more painful coming from her.

“If not an ass, then what?”

“Cordial.”

Another eye roll from her. “Riiiight.” She went back to the business of trying to find something to wear. “Have you talked to Armani this morning?”

Yeah, about that. I slipped my hand into my pocket and grabbed hold of her phone. “I did. We’re good to go.” I thought back to my conversation with Gabriel after my coffee chat with Armani. Gabriel had asked me to trust him to handle shit on this side of the world while I dealt with the rest of our plan to bring down DiMaggio back in New York. “But I do have to tell you something. We’ll have ears on the ride to the airport and on the flight back, so we need to get this conversation over with now.”

She slowly stood, dropping the clothes back into her suitcase, as if recognizing she wouldn’t like what I had to say.

I finally removed her phone from my pocket and tossed it to her. She caught it, never losing hold of my eyes.

“I woke up to several messages this morning, and so did you,” I shared. “Armani leaked the story of our marriage to the press last night. It went viral.”

Wide, panicky eyes. Check.

I gave her a few more seconds to absorb the news and to do a quick search on her phone. Or maybe she planned to check her texts and voicemails.

One particular story kept buzzing through my thoughts from a tabloid I’d had a beef with since they’d botched the story of my sister’s murder years ago, and of course that was the one she found and started to read aloud.

“Does love at first sight exist?” she said under her breath. “Just ask billionaire playboy Alessandro Costa, who was swept away by schoolteacher Calliope Anderson, also rumored to be the daughter of Armani DiMaggio. Not familiar with that name? Well, get familiar. He allegedly runs the longest-lasting mafia group in Italian history.”

“People were bound to find out,” I said before she continued. I didn’t want to hear more, and neither would she. “But I didn’t expect Armani to have it leaked like this.” I should’ve expected it, though. He wanted to ensure the world knew my family was in an alliance with him. He’d even shared the photo of our one and only kiss from inside the church.

Without acknowledging she’d heard me, she continued swiping at the screen, probably flipping from one “breaking story” to the next.

“You have almost as many texts and missed calls as I do.” I spoke up after giving her what I’d felt was an adequate amount of time to spiral. “But none from your aunt. I did a quick check.”Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

She finally gave me her attention. “My aunt can’t find out. She’ll freak. Fly to Armani and threaten him. Possibly get herself killed.”

“We’ll get ahead of this. For her, at least, we will,” I reassured while trying to be cordial. Also, fuck that word. “Don’t worry.”

“I guess this is the one time I’m glad my aunt hates social media, is unlisted, distrusts all news sources, and didn’t sign up for the international phone plan while traveling. But . . . what about my friends? Principal? They must’ve heard about this. With the time difference, we—”

“I noticed a voicemail from your boss. Well, I saw a voicemail notification from Principal Edwards on your phone when I got it back from Marcello.” I cleared my throat, uncomfortable to share more. “Among other messages.”

“Did you listen to any? Read them?” she asked, and I was seconds away from losing what little trust of hers I may have had.

“I might have looked at a few.” I had on jeans, so I couldn’t hide my hands in my pockets all that easily like when wearing a suit, so I crossed my arms at the increasingly awkward conversation. “I also listened to one message.”

“Broadway,” she whispered, as if now understanding my temper this morning. “You know.”

“I do, and you’re not going to Nashville.” The quicker I laid that out, the better. “And Braden needs to watch his tongue, before I cut it out. I don’t care if he’s a friend or a vet. You’re my wife, and the bullshit he said to you on the phone when he found out is—” I cut myself off, realizing I was the one who sounded off his rocker with jealousy right now, even worse than how Braden had come across in his voicemail.

“I’m sorry, but what?” She tossed the phone on the bed and mimicked my move, crossing her arms. It was hard to take her seriously in the dancing-bananas pajamas, but if I smiled, she might try and throw me out the window next. “You had no business looking through my messages.”

I stepped before her, needing to dip my chin to find her eyes. “No, maybe not. But you’re my job. I’ll do what I have to in order to keep you safe and to complete the mission. So, no Nashville. No Braden.” I may have hit a new, all-time low in my voice that time, but I really hated that guy.

Her gaze moved to my hand, and I followed her eyes, realizing I’d never put my ring back on. I cursed and went to the nightstand and grabbed it. The thing felt like it weighed fifty pounds in my palm.

“I’m going to lose my teaching job. My life is in shambles because of this. I know it’s not your fault, and maybe you have a point about Broadway if it’s to keep me safe, but—”

“You don’t need the money.” I slipped on the ring and shook out my hand at my side.

“You think I teach for money? Thought we established my salary sucks last weekend.” She went back to her suitcase and grabbed something to wear, as if needing a distraction. “And no, I won’t take his blood money.”

“Then take mine. It’s clean,” I said, hating her defeated tone, preferring sassy over sad, because her being sad gutted me. When she shot me a look that said, Hell no, I added, “Does your school need a new library? Gym? I’ll build them a wing. Don’t worry, if you want to keep your job when this is over, I’ll make sure you do.”

“You can’t buy your way out of every problem.”

“Clearly, or we wouldn’t be married right now.” Another low blow from me. I was on a roll this morning. But we were about to head home. We’d be in my city, and I’d need to be this woman’s husband for three months. I had no clue how to navigate the situation. So I was on edge. “We need to go. Flight leaves soon.”

“Maybe I’m glad we can’t talk in the car or on the flight.” She strode by me with her clothes and started for the bathroom. “But I’m not letting Armani ruin my dreams when he’s already forcing me to live in this nightmare of a situation.” She stopped by the door to face me. “Since you think you can buy your way out of most problems, surely you can come up with a creative way to keep me safe when I go down there to perform.”

“Calliope,” I hissed.

“Callie,” she said softly. “It’s Callie again. You’re the one who doesn’t want to be friendly.”

Unable to stop myself, this foreign feeling of jealousy propelled me her way. “So just Braden gets to call my wife her given name? We’re back to that?”

Her nostrils flared as she met me halfway, ready to face off with me. “I’m not your wife. Not really.”

“Says God. Says the law you are.” I stabbed in the direction of the ground instead of the sky, which would’ve made more sense. But I was lacking the whole rational-thinking thing at the moment.

“Braden cares about me. You don’t. He’s a real friend, and you don’t want to be anything other than cordial with me. So yeah, he can call me Calliope, and you sure as hell can’t call me your anything.” The dig cut. Right below the skin. I was pretty sure she’d opened a not-so-old wound, and I was bleeding. “Well,” she said while letting go of a deep breath, “I suppose I’m one thing to you—your mission.”

“Right,” I gritted out.

“I need to get ready.” She gave me her back while sputtering, “I’m mad at you.”

“Noted.”

But the fall of her shoulders as she stood by the bathroom door had my chest aching more than my damn back.

“I’m still grateful to you for helping me, even if it doesn’t seem like it, though,” she whispered, making me feel like a shitty human being. “Maybe your reasons aren’t just for me, but I’m still indebted to you for what you’re doing.” With that, she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door.

Indebted to me? No. No more favors. She owed me nothing.

I just needed this mission to be over with. The sooner the better.

With any luck, I’d kill her father before the Fourth of July, we could annul the marriage, and I’d be free again.

And she could go be with the one man who so clearly loved her—Braden. Well, as long as I didn’t kill him first for wanting my wife.