Not Mine to Keep (The Costa Family)

Nashville

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I can do this and be totally—”

“Fine?”

At the realization I wasn’t alone while spiraling in the women’s bathroom of the hotel, I looked up at the mirror and gasped. “Nala! Imani!”Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

I spun around, and the three of us hugged, and tears were going to test my waterproof mascara. I swiped the backs of my hands across my cheeks, trying to hide them before my tears ruined my blush, too. “What are you doing here?”

“You told us you were coming in the group chat, but your husband’s assistant reached out on his behalf. Well, on yours, I guess.” Nala swapped a quick look with Imani. “He invited us to the hotel tonight on his dime.”

Before I could digest the news that Alessandro had arranged a surprise visit with my friends, which also meant he’d perused my contacts and messages to determine who I’d want to see when visiting, Imani added, “His hot-as-sin guard, Javier, picked us up and brought us here. He showed us the suite where the three of us are going to have dinner and get ready for your show. It’s been decorated like we’re having a slumber party and are thirteen, but it’s kind of cute.”

“What?” I shook my head, still in shock.

“Surprise,” Nala said while opening her arms wide. “He’s a keeper. Sorry for giving you a hard time about him. Most guys wouldn’t give up their new bride so she could spend time with her friends.”

And now it clicked. The piece of the puzzle locked securely in place.

Alessandro wanted to avoid sharing a hotel suite with me. He didn’t trust himself, and he’d pretty much admitted that was why he hadn’t come back with me to the penthouse after the wild night at his office. But what did that mean? It wasn’t like he was falling for me; I knew better. But the fact he still wanted to have sex with me when he was apparently supposed to be a one-and-done kind of guy must’ve been messing with his head.

“You’re married, girl. I still can’t believe it.” Nala played with the gold bangles on her wrist. A fidgeter, like me.

“Neither can I.” My stomach protested the sad reality that I couldn’t tell the truth about why I was married, but they’d freak and worry. The less they knew, the better.

But I’d give anything to have someone to talk to about what had happened last night, as well as the moment I’d lost my mind and kissed him in the elevator a few hours ago.

Alessandro had kissed me back, too. Hooked my leg to his side and leaned into me, dragging his fingers over my heated skin as he pinned me to him.

And then the elevator dinged, signaling the doors were about to open, and he’d freed my leg and backed away, panting. He’d also killed me by swiping his hand across his mouth, as if hating himself for allowing his lips to touch mine. He’d said something in Italian, shaken his head, then motioned for me to leave the elevator.

He hadn’t brought up the kiss on the ride to the airport or on the plane. Definitely hadn’t mentioned it when we arrived at the hotel. Nor when he’d shocked me by letting me know he had one of the smaller ballrooms rented out for my use for rehearsal, with my equipment there waiting for me.

“I have to make some calls. Don’t let her out of your sight,” Alessandro had barked out shortly after our arrival to his team of five guys, which also included my DiMaggio “chaperones.” Then he and Javier had left us alone in the rehearsal room.

Braden wasn’t due for another twenty minutes or so, but I had a feeling Alessandro would make an appearance before then, given his weird, jealous-like reactions when it came to him.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Imani waved her hand in front of my face, snapping me back to the bathroom. “You’re in Alessandro la-la land from the looks of it. Thinking about your hunk of a man, huh?”

Yeah, something like that.

“Why were you in here giving yourself a pep talk in the first place?” Nala nudged my side with her hip. “You shouldn’t be nervous about tonight. You’ve been looking forward to this moment for years.”

“That Italian Stallion, Frankie, said you up and walked out of the ballroom like you were going to be sick.” Imani met my eyes in the mirror, and I tried not to visibly cringe at her referring to Frankie in any positive manner.

If you knew the truth . . . but you can’t. “To be honest, I’m nervous for when Braden gets here. Alessandro’s not his greatest fan, and I haven’t even told him about the Britt situation.”

I’d already vented to Imani and Nala over our group chat about Braden reaching out to Britt for backup if I didn’t show, and they’d been pissed on my behalf.

“Does your husband not know your ex cheated with your best friend?” Nala asked, frowning.

“She was a fake best friend.” My shoulders fell. “And no, I never told him about that, and why would he want to know? He’s a bit . . . growly when it comes to other men in my life.” Even if this is temporary, and I’m his assignment, he still is. When I thought about last night and his dare for me to go off with Hudson, which I never in a million years would’ve done, nor wanted to do, I was still shocked at how beet red his face had been at the idea of another man touching me. Also, he’d threatened murder, something I knew he was capable of, so there was that.

“So what you’re saying is we might get two shows this weekend?” Imani grabbed her purse from where she’d set it on the counter, then motioned for the door. “Onstage and off.”

“I hope not. I don’t need fists thrown on my behalf.” Men have already died because of me.

“I’d like to give Braden a piece of my mind for the shit he pulled with reaching out to Britt.” Nala squeezed my arm, offering her support. “But come on, let’s get you back in the room to rehearse so we have time to eat and get ready before the show. And then we’ll stay up all night celebrating after your performance.”

I gave Nala a hesitant nod, and we left the bathroom. I hadn’t expected my husband to be out there, waiting.

“You okay?” Alessandro had changed into jeans and a gray short-sleeve shirt that had his biceps and triceps looking, well, perfect. He was so focused on me, I wasn’t sure whether he realized we weren’t alone.

Not that we were alone-alone, because when I looked beyond his shoulder, I spotted Javier and the “Italian Stallion” there, too.

Before I could get my mouth to work, Imani introduced herself to Alessandro. Nala next.

He was gracious and polite to my friends, which I’d expected from a man of his stature, I supposed. But the second his eyes cut back to me, the dark look returned.

“I need a word with my husband.” I reached for his forearm.

“Sure; we’ll wait for you two in the rehearsal room.” Imani gave me a knowing smile, as if assuming I wanted a make-out session with Alessandro as a thank-you-for-the-friends surprise.

Hardly. “Oh, and Nala, would you mind hopping on the keyboard to practice with me? I’ve been working on a new arrangement for a Stapleton cover song I want to test out.”

“Tell me it’s not ‘Tennessee Whiskey,’” Alessandro remarked in a low voice, and if looks could kill . . .

I about rolled my eyes, but then remembered his reaction back in his office, and we weren’t alone, so maybe that’d be a bad idea for my friends and guards to see my husband go off the deep end.

“Not a Stapleton fan?” Nala smirked but didn’t wait for him to answer, and instead gestured to Imani to give us privacy.

“Go with them. We’re fine out here,” Alessandro said, eyes on Frankie and Javier.

“Why do you need so much security, anyway?” Imani asked, not moving when Nala had motioned for her to. “Because you really are a mafia princess?”

“Real funny,” I responded a bit too quickly, letting go of Alessandro’s arm once it was only us out there. We were on the meeting-room floor of the hotel, and there weren’t any other events going on, so I could speak freely without being overheard. “How’d you pull this off?” I spun my finger in the air. “Not the hotel or ballroom part. The whole coming here and not even sharing a room with me without Frankie running his mouth to Armani?” I swallowed, waiting for some of that ice in his look to melt. “Also, you went through my phone again.”

He let go of a gruff breath. That was his frustrated one. He had a few different types of breathy breaths, and I was learning how to decode them. “I gave Armani the heads-up personally this morning about the trip and the plan to surprise you with a visit with your friends. I told him you’d been mopey and stressed, which is bad for trying to get pregnant.”

“And he went for that?”

He nodded. “I can be convincing when I want to be.” Gray eyes flew to my mouth, and was he remembering our elevator kiss?

No, just me?

“And the second suite? The going through my phone?” I folded my arms, and the man had the nerve to lean in and set his hand to the wall, trapping me there.

“You wish I hadn’t?” Why’d that question come across so hot? So . . . seductive?

My body was already coiled tight with tension, and being in this position wasn’t doing wonders to change that. “I’d much rather spend the evening with them than you,” I lied. “Just shocked you’re okay with not sharing a room with me. You can be overprotective. And side note, you just rolled your eyes at me.”

He scoffed. “I did not.”

“You did, too.” Maybe I did need my suite decorated and prepped as if I were thirteen going on thirty. What is wrong with me? At him doing it again, I stabbed his chest. “That makes twice.”

“Liar,” he said, but his tone was borderline playful instead of rough. “My suite is next to yours. Guards will be in the hall. Javier has access to the hotel security cameras. You’ll be good. Plus, you should sleep better without me in the room, and I know my back could use a real bed.”

“How’d you sleep last night?”

“Like a baby.” His grays narrowed. “Can’t wait until I have my bed back to myself.”

“Or to share it with someone else.” Shit, there went my mouth.

He angled his head, and with his free hand, he ran his knuckles over my cheek. The gentle touch was such a contrast to the fire raging between us. “What happened last night, and in the elevator today, can’t happen again.” Was he trying to convince himself of that, or me?

“Who’s to say I want it to?” I wet my lips, hating how good they’d felt against his. “And I don’t, just so we’re clear.”

He lowered his hand to his side and pushed away from the wall, freeing me from the cage. “Liar,” he said again, this time much raspier than lighthearted. “Javier will call me when Braden arrives. I’ll be in the coffee shop downstairs working until then.”

“You really don’t want to share a room with me as much as possible, huh? But you’ll make an exception for Braden’s arrival,” I murmured, hoping he didn’t hear the pathetic break in my tone.

“The man wants to fuck my wife. So yeah, I’ll make an exception.”

I set my hand to my chest at the ache blooming there. “Am I yours, though?”

His grays thinned as he tipped his head, as if unsure how to answer that.

“Just don’t fight,” I said, giving him an out from answering my question. His gaze softened a touch, probably from relief I’d changed the subject. “Or start a war. I’m nervous enough, and I need to spend the next few hours practicing. Please give me the teddy bear right now, not the asshole. I need sweet.”

That deep breath was another one I recognized. It was the breath he took right before giving in to me. “I’ll do my best to be cordial with him.”

“Cordial was what we were supposed to be, and look what happened,” I reminded him, chills flying up my dress at the memory of “what happened” last night on his desk. His handprint really was still on my ass cheek. The sight of it had turned me on this morning when I saw it, post shower. “And you just rolled your eyes at me again. Third time’s the charm, though.”

“I don’t roll my eyes.”

“Sure, just like you’ll behave when Braden arrives,” I countered with the appropriate amount of sarcasm of a thirteen-year-old.

He shook his head and pulled his arm back. “You’re that concerned about the two of us in the same room, are you? Maybe you don’t want him seeing me with you. You have feelings for him.” Before I could kill that idea, he added after a frustrated sigh, “Fine. I’ll keep my distance until you’re ready to go to the venue tonight. I won’t watch you rehearse. Now, go practice before I change my mind.” Pivoting away, he made it three steps before asking, “What Stapleton song?”

When he faced me and our eyes met, a little tremble rocked through my body as I shared the title. “‘Think I’m in Love With You.’”