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Cohen, Alarick, and I are the only ones to follow Romeo back to the house where his mother is living. The chances of being in the same town, at the same time, is insane. I’m sure that’s exactly how he planned this, though. He wants to make sure his story can be backed up. The fear for me is, what if it can be backed up? What if the things he’s saying are true and I have to face the reality that I have a brother, a brother who actually wants to be part of my life?
We arrive at a beautiful old home that has been well maintained. It’s dark out, but I can see the stunning gardens surrounding the small house. His mom clearly enjoys gardening. The porch light shines a dim glow over the patio, where I can see a beautiful restored swing chair and some nice timber furniture. This place, even before you walk into it, feels so much like a home should feel.
My heart aches.
Romeo walks up the front stairs and opens the front door, yelling out, “Momma?”
A voice echoes through the house. The sweetest voice I’ve ever heard. “Romeo? Honey, is that you?”
Honey.
I can hear it even before I see it—this woman adores her son.
A woman comes around the corner, her eyes lighting up when she sees her son. She stretches out her arms, throwing them up around his neck as she hugs him tightly. She’s only tiny, petite, and very beautiful for her age. Her dark hair is starting to grey, but it’s exceptionally beautiful, long and thick. Her skin is only slightly showing signs of aging, and she has the most incredible green eyes I’ve ever seen. She’s beautiful in a way very few are.
She looks to all of us, and slowly releases Romeo.
Her eyes fall on me and widen. She places a hand over her mouth and starts slowly moving toward me. “Well, as I live and breathe ... You look just like your momma.”
A lump forms in my throat. I don’t have a great deal of memories about my momma, she died before I could create enough of them. I do know she was beautiful, and from what I recall, a beautiful soul with so much love to give. She adored her children, and she would have done anything for us. I never would have guessed that Manny didn’t belong to her, because she loved him in a way that was unconditional.
I step forward as Romeo’s mom reaches me, and when her hands comes out and touches my cheek, the urge to cry and hug her is incredibly intense. She releases me and looks to Romeo. “You found her.”
“Yeah, Momma, I found her. I told her everything. She’s having a hard time with it all and wanted to come and talk to you.”
She looks back to me. “This must be very confusing for you. Come in, sit down. Let me get you a drink. Who are your friends?”
“This is Cohen and Alarick,” I say, my voice choking up.
“Strapping gentleman they are, come in.”
She’s beautiful.
So damned beautiful.
The presence of two large bikers does not bother her in the slightest. She invites them into her home as if she’s known them a lifetime.
“Romeo, show them to the living room, and I will fetch some tea.”
I glance at Cohen and his expression, which was hard as a rock the entire way here, has softened a little.
Maybe, just maybe, he’s seeing what I’m seeing.
This might be real after all.
I walk into the living area and over to the mantel where a heap of photos are set in frames. I let my eyes rake over them, feeling a smile pull at the corners of my mouth. Romeo, gosh, he’s identical to Manny. Looking at the pictures, I’d swear it was him. It makes my heart ache for my brother, who is gone. Not because we were close, but because I see now he could have had such a different life. A life not influenced by my father, a life that would have taught him the kind of love he simply didn’t know.
Every photo is of Romeo and his mom.
You can see exactly how close the two of them are.
I turn and see Romeo standing behind me, his eyes on the photos, too.
“It’s like looking at Manny, it’s quite overwhelming,” I admit.
“What was he like? My brother?” Romeo asks, his eyes moving to mine now.
“He was ... He was a child raised by a man who taught him all the wrong things in life. He was strong, though. Really strong. And he was smart as hell.”
Romeo opens his mouth to say something, but his momma comes in with a tray full of cups, tea, sugar, and cream. She places it down on the coffee table and ushers me to the chair. “Sit, let us talk.”
I go over and sit down beside Cohen, preparing myself a cup of tea.
“What is your name?” I ask her, now just realizing that nobody has told me her name.
“My name is Marcella.”
Marcella. Beautiful.
“It’s wonderful to meet you, Marcella. I’m Aviana.”
She smiles. “I know who you are, my darling.”
I give her a small smile and sip my tea.
“I’m sure you’ve got many questions, feel free to ask when you are ready,” she tells me, making herself a cup of tea and sitting back in the chair.
“You ... you had a relationship with my father. Can you tell me about that, please?”
Marcella’s face flashes with pain, and I know the memories would be hard for her. I can’t imagine what it must have been like back then.
“I met him at the café I was waitressing at. I spilled coffee all over him, it was my first day. I was certain he would make a scene, but instead he laughed. Right there, he just burst out with this loud laughter.”
My father laughed?
That’s so hard for me to wrap my head around.
“I offered to dry clean his suit for him, so I took him back to my apartment and gave him some of my brother’s clothes so I could take his suit. That’s how it all started. I didn’t ... I didn’t know he was married at first. He took me out, we formed a relationship, and then I found out he was already in one.”
“That must have been hard,” I say, my voice tight.
“It was awful, but I was young and naïve. I was in love with him. I thought he was going to give me this incredible life. He told me he’d leave his wife, that we’d be together, and I believed him. I was only nineteen years old. When I fell pregnant, everything changed. He no longer wanted a relationship with me, and this man, this prince ... turned into a monster. He was cold and calculated. He didn’t want me ruining anything in his perfect little world, and that’s when I realized he was never going to leave his wife. I was just a bit of fun for him ...”
God.
My heart aches for this woman.
I can hear the pain in her voice as she tells her story.
“I wasn’t going to give up my baby, I told him so. Then I found out I was having twins. Terrified, I knew I couldn’t care for both of them. I was struggling as it was, and without any support from him, I was not going to be able to give them a good life. I told him I wanted money, help, or I would tell people about our affair. It wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever said, but, again, I was young, and I was scared.”
I can only imagine.
“He told me to get an abortion, to get rid of them and the problem would be solved. I refused to do that, and one day, I went and confronted your mother about our affair. I told her everything. The worst part for me was, she was the kindest, most gentle soul I’d ever met, and I knew that she was as trapped as I was. Of course, she was devastated. Days later, your father came to me with a deal. He would take one of the babies and raise him with his family, I would take the other and he would give me some money, but I was never to contact him again.”
God, this just gets worse.
“At first, I refused. No way was I giving up my baby, but as time went on, I began to struggle. I had some health concerns, and I had no money. I couldn’t raise two babies—I would barely afford one. I told him I would take the deal. Your momma wasn’t too keen on the idea at first, she didn’t want to raise my baby, but I went to see her one day, and I told her that I needed her to do it, for me.”
“And she did,” I say softly.
Marcella nods with a smile. “She did. She agreed and when my sons were born, one of them was whisked out of my life and I was paid out. I moved away and that was the last time I ever saw my son. Occasionally, your momma would send me a picture. It was the hardest thing I had ever done in my life, but having Romeo here with me, that made things so much easier.”
God.
This is a lot.
A lot to process.
A lot to understand.
“Thank you, for telling me all of that,” I say, my voice tired.
“Doesn’t really explain why your son is now seekin’ her out after all these years,” Cohen says, his voice incredibly respectful, but firm.
Marcella looks to him. “He didn’t know the truth until he was older, and by then, she was gone, and we thought she had passed. He looked into it for years, and finally we got word she wasn’t dead. We came right away.”
I mean, it makes sense.
Cohen nods, accepting her answer, his face still tight.
“My son,” Marcella asks me, her face full of hurt and suppressed emotions I imagine she has long ago smothered down. “Was he a good man?”
No.
He wasn’t.
But I can hardly tell her that. It will break her heart, and that’s the last thing I want to do. Romeo, who is standing behind her, meets my eyes and slowly shakes his head. He doesn’t want me to tell her the truth, but I don’t want to feed her full of lies either. So, I give her the best parts of him that I can remember over the years. There weren’t many, but when he was younger, before my father changed him, we did get along.
“He was protective,” I begin. “He had a wicked sense of humor and was always pulling pranks on me, but he took care of me if I needed it. He was strong and a hard worker.”
She smiles, but it trembles.
My god I feel like my heart is being torn from my chest.
“When he died ... was it painless for him?”
Cohen stiffens beside me, knowing full well it wasn’t painless. She doesn’t need to know that, either. All she needs to know is her son passed and is in a better place. That’s all any mom needs to know.
“He went quickly,” I tell her.
She nods, pressing her hands together tightly.
“We should go, it is getting late and we have a lot to process,” Cohen says, standing. “Thank you for your time, ma’am.”
Marcella nods and stands. I do so, too.
She walks over to me and gives me a hug, the kind of hug I didn’t realize I had longed for, for so long. The kind of hug a mother gives her child, full of warmth and kindness. I close my eyes and take a moment to let that hug wash over me, to let the feelings break free and consume my body.
“My son,” Marcella whispers to me. “He is a good man. You can trust him. He was raised in a home full of love and good values, he will cause you no harm.”
I believe her.
I truly do.
So, where do I go from here?
~*~*~*~
“DO WE RISK TAKIN’ THE deal? It’ll get a big problem off our backs, allow Aviana to be safe again, and we can focus on getting Samson’s daughter, finishing that and gettin’ the hell out of here.”
Alarick speaks, sitting with his back against the chair, legs spread apart, arms crossed. He’s in my motel room with Cohen and me, and I’m trying very hard to stay away. The night has finally caught up with me and I’m exhausted. I want to go to sleep, but know it’s important we discuss this, too.
“I think we take the deal,” Cohen says, his voice tired, too.
I look to him. “You do?”
He nods. “Yeah, I do. I think he’s tellin’ the truth. That business is far over your head, and if he’s willin’ to give you a cut of it, I think it’s worth it provided it’s done through the correct legal channels.”
I’m surprised by this.
I guess the visit to Marcella convinced him, too.
I know it did for me.
“Then it’s sorted,” Alarick says, standing. “We’ll get the ball rolling with Romeo tomorrow, get them fuckers off our backs and we can go forward with our plan to get Benedict so we can finish this.”
“Sounds good to me,” I say, followed by a yawn.
“I’ll see you both in the morning.”
Alarick leaves and I turn to Cohen, who looks exhausted. He has his own room, but for whatever reason, he’s still here. He has been by my side all night, making sure to have my back at every turn. Just as he promised. That means the world to me, he might not know it, but it truly does.
“I’m going to shower,” I say softly. “Would you ... like to join me?”
He stares at me, and then without a word, drops his jacket from his shoulders and lets it fall to the floor. I guess that’s a yes. My heart races as I turn and walk to the shower, slowly removing my clothes as I go. I reach in and turn the water on, but before I can do anything more, Cohen’s hard, naked body presses against my back and his mouth finds my neck. I shudder with pure delight as he nibbles at the overly sensitive skin.
His hand goes around and finds my breast, where he gently begins to knead, rolling my nipple around between his thumb and forefinger. I whimper and arch with delight as his cock presses against my back, hard and aching. I want it so badly. I want him so badly. But I also want to enjoy every damned second of his hands on me, loving the way it makes me feel.
“I’ve been thinking about your pussy all day,” he growls, nipping my earlobe. “I’m fuckin’ starving. It’s time I get a feed.”
Oh, my word.
He spins me around and we back into the shower, the warm water cascading over our bodies and soaking us. Cohen gets down to his knees, takes my leg, and places it over his shoulder, and then he buries his face between my legs. The pleasure is immediate and intense as his tongue does incredible things. I whimper and my hands press against the cool tiled walls to stop myself from falling.
He devours me and there is no doubting that the man knows what he’s doing with his tongue. I cry out as he increases the pressure, licking with a force that I can’t fight against. I cum so hard I lose my footing, slipping down. Cohen’s hands immediately stop me, his big fingers curling into my thighs so I don’t fall. He buries his face deeper, making sure every shudder of my orgasm is dragged out.
Only then does he stand, licking his lips like a fucking deviant. Then he steps closer to me, grabs my hair and growls, “My turn.”
Oh, boy.
He pushes me down to my knees and I immediately take his cock into my mouth, my lips stretching around the hard length of it. I slide my head up and down, using my tongue to make little swirling motions under the head. A feral growl lets me know I’m doing a good job. His fingers in my hair, guiding me, makes my entire body ache for me. He lets me suck him, cupping his balls and tasting his cock, for about five minutes.
Then, he brings me to my feet and, with a raspy growl, tells me, “Turn around. I gotta fuck you.”
I turn around, pressing my ass into his cock. He slaps it, hard, and the echo of that rings out through the bathroom. I whimper and he takes my hip in one hand and places the other hand on my back to bend me over a little more. Then he plunges his cock inside of me, deep and hard, causing a burning, stretching sensation. I cry out, but my cries are quickly turned into moans of pleasure as he starts to fuck me.
His thrusts go from slow, to fast, then back to slow again.
The way he moves his hips is pure torture.
He knows how to fuck, and he’s driving me insane, keeping me on edge, bringing me to the limit and then slowing down again.
“Please,” I plead. “Cohen please.”
“All in good time,” he growls.
As he works his hips, his cock feels like it gets bigger inside of me. He won’t last much longer, but the way he’s fucking me, I won’t either. He picks up the pace for the final time, driving his cock in and out of me, skin slapping, bodies moving together so fucking perfectly. I can’t hold back my orgasm a second longer—I let it wash over me with a cry of pure ecstasy.
A moment later, Cohen joins me, his body tightening and shuddering as he finds his own release.
Then we fall silent together, both of us hanging on to each other.
When he finally releases me, my body feels incredible. Like he has taken the stresses of the night and just removed them. We wash and get out, dressing. Once we’re out of the bathroom, I sit on the edge of the bed as Cohen grabs his jacket off the floor.
“You can stay ... if you like.”
He looks to me, his eyes tired, his body heavy. “You want me to stay?”
I bite my lip, hesitating. Then, I nod. “Yeah, I want you to stay.”
He drops that jacket to the floor again, slides into bed with me, and I can tell you, nothing in the world has ever felt this fucking good.
Nothing.
I want to stay here forever.