Not Mine to Keep (The Costa Family)

A Few Weeks Later

“Your mom really knows how to throw a party.” I closed my notebook and looked around the crowded yard at the Costas’ house in Long Island, where we’d spent a lot of time recently.

“And she’s managed to get us all back under her roof again when we only just escaped last week.” Alessandro took a knee, unfurled the throw blanket to make room for himself, and dropped down beside me.

Holding the neck of his beer, he rested it on his thigh, eyes on the yacht docked not far away. Izzy, Hudson, and a few others were prepping it to take it out.

“You think they’ll wind up together?” I wasn’t sure why I’d asked that, or whether he’d know who I was referring to, but when I peeked at him, he had a goofy grin on his face. That smile was good news for Hudson. No plans to kill him for wanting his little sister.

“Bianca would love them together.” His tone wasn’t sad. More hopeful. And there was nothing I loved more than when he showed his teddy bear side.This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

Of course, I didn’t exactly hate the other side, especially in the bedroom. Or, well, whatever room at the penthouse we wound up making love in.

“Would Constantine love it?”

He tossed a look over his shoulder at the man in question. “I don’t know, to be honest.” Twisting back around, he stretched one leg out and sighed. “Maybe he’d be okay.”

“After you two did the brother routine on him?” I laughed. “Izzy told me about her exes and how you guys all—”

“Took out the trash.” He playfully nudged me in the side, turning his attention to the grill station, where Enzo had all but kicked to the curb the chef hired for the party. Maria was at his side, one hand over her pregnant belly and the other stroking her husband’s back. “I’m glad Maria was cleared to travel. And that Enzo actually let her.”

“She’s pretty incredible. So is her daughter.” Maybe one day we’d have kids. I’d had my period last week, so no luck yet, but I didn’t think it’d take too long at the rate we were going lately. The man couldn’t keep his hands off me, and I loved it.

“Three daughters.” He took a healthy gulp of his beer, shaking his head while laughing at his father chasing after Chiara not far away, acting as though she were ten times faster than him. “God help my brother when they all start dating.”

“More like help their dates.” Speaking of dating, my aunt was now seeing Javier on the regular. So much so she’d yet to go back to Tennessee since she’d come home from being rescued. She deserved to finally meet a great guy and be happy. To stop worrying about me, and thank God, there was no longer any need to do so.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” At Alessandro’s slightly somber tone, I focused back on him, and he locked eyes with me. “I haven’t brought this up because I was waiting to make sure the whole Armani-being-in-prison thing stuck. And no fallout from all the other stuff . . .”

Wait, were we doing this now? Out here? Finally having the conversation I’d been waiting for him to broach since coming back from Romania. And here I was in jean shorts and only a red bikini top for it.

He finished whatever was left of his beer, then set aside the bottle.

I drummed my fingers on the notepad on my lap as I waited for him to get the words out. And as for words, I’d finally been able to write again.

I’d opted to go separate ways with Braden after his awkward declaration of love last month, though. I didn’t need a guy in my life who had a crush on me.

I did, however, manage to convince Nala to perform with me if I were to land any future gigs. We wouldn’t be teaching at the high school together anymore since I’d resigned and would be focusing on my music—Alessandro was encouraging me to follow my dreams—but at least Nala and I might get to work together down the road in another way.

“Okay, Mr. Mysterious, you’re making me nervous.” What if he wasn’t planning to discuss the thing I’d been waiting for him to talk about for weeks now?

He fingered the collar of his cream-colored linen shirt before smoothing his palm over his trimmed beard. A touch of silver was sprinkled in here and there with the brown. I blamed all the stress he’d endured.

“Alessandro,” I prompted when he’d yet to speak.

“I was waiting for you to finish your internal monologue.” He shot me a devilish smirk that had me in a puddle. “I know that look of yours.” He pointed to my notebook. “You finish the song you’ve been working on? Ready to show me yet?”

“Maybeee. But first, what do you want to talk about?” I poked him in the ribs.

He poked me right back, and then his finger skirted beneath the little red material, catching the underside of my breast. “I may have a belated birthday gift. It’s sort of for the both of us.”

“Oh.” Not what I’d been hoping for. We’d spent the last few weeks “dating” to truly get to know each other, since we’d done things backward, thanks to Armani. And the man had dated the fuck out of me. Boy, had he ever, but didn’t he know by now I didn’t care about gifts? He was all I wanted. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“Because you’re pouting, and it’s cute.”

“You like me pouting, huh?” I caught my lip between my teeth, and he dragged his finger down to my belly button almost hidden by my high-waisted shorts.

“You make it as sexy as I make the eye-roll thing broody,” he teased. “But I think you’ll like the gift. Well, I hope you will. I was going to wait until we were back at our place tomorrow, but now feels like the time. And I’m not patient, as my therapist keeps reminding me.”

He’d been seeing his therapist once a week again, and although I didn’t feel the need to see anyone myself, because I felt better than ever, I knew I had the option and the support from Alessandro if I ever wanted to.

“Okayyy, well, what is it?” I playfully lifted my brows a few times. “Lay it on me.”

“Close your eyes, and I’ll give it to you.” His tone was the perfect amount of husky and commanding he always managed to pull off. Like sin sweeping under your skin but without the guilt and only the pleasure.

“Yes, sir.”

“Open your palms,” he ordered once I complied.

I did as he asked, and he set something nearly weightless on my palm before curling my fingers inward. “Okay.”

I opened my eyes, but when I went to unfurl my fingers, he stopped me, covering my hand. And I only just now realized he wasn’t wearing his wedding band.

“The rings at the ceremony were from Armani. The wedding was—well, everything was because of him.” I met his eyes, my heart pounding hard at the realization my pout had been truly unnecessary. “I was hoping you’d marry me again and make everything ours. Marry me because we want to.”

I couldn’t see clearly anymore. My glossy eyes unleashed the tears momentarily trapped there.

“In your hand are our new bands that I picked out in the hope that you’d say yes.”

I blinked away more tears as he opened my hand and took both rings from my grasp. He shifted it to show the inside of the plain band, bringing it closer for me to see an inscription.

“X squared,” I whispered, and a little laugh-cry fell from my mouth as emotion choked me up. “You . . .” I basically grunted the word. When I looked at the inside of his band, I shook my head at only an X engraved there. “I see what you did there, and I’m going to—”

“But I love you more. Always.” He leaned in and brought his mouth to mine.

“Not a chance.” I kissed him back, allowing him to take over, like he was so damn good at, nearly forgetting we weren’t alone out there, but no one bothered us. We were in our little bubble. “When do you want to remarry?” I asked once his expert tongue left my mouth, and I dropped my eyes back to the rings.

“August is next month. It was our deadline for divorce. How about we make it our month to get married instead? Maybe have it in English, too, so you know what you’re really getting yourself into by marrying me.”

I brushed the pad of my thumb across one of his tears. My teddy bear. A total softie with me. But still the man who hunted bad guys as a side gig. And maybe it was no longer an addiction for him—which was good—but he was who he was, and I wouldn’t change him. Because I fell in love with this man. And screw Armani; there could be light without dark, and our love was proof of that.

“I love the idea,” I finally answered. “But what am I supposed to get a man who has—”

“Everything?” His smile met his eyes that time. “I do have everything, but”—he peered at my notebook—“I’d love to hear you sing one of your own songs. That’d be the best belated birthday and pre-wedding gift I could think of . . . and, well, maybe to let me sink my mouth between your thighs later and eat you out. That’d be great, too.”

I laughed and melted at the same time. “I guess I could handle that.” But first, the song. I handed him the rings so I could open the notebook to my messy handwriting. “The song was going to be called ‘Not Mine to Keep.’” I let go of a shaky, slightly nervous breath. The word not was now scratched out at the top. “I only came up with the title weeks ago while still dealing with writer’s block.”

“And now?” He touched my forearm, urging me to look at him.

“Writer’s block is gone, and the song is now ‘Mine to Keep.’”

“I love it.” His brows drew tight. “Sing it for me?”

“Out here?” I looked around, aware again of our surroundings and all the people there.

“Hmm. Maybe I don’t want to share it with others for the first time.” He stood and offered me his hand and helped me to my feet. “Let’s go inside.”

“We’ll wind up making love in your parents’ house again.”

He leaned in and dropped his mouth just over mine without kissing me. “Not getting caught will be our mission, then.”

“That’s one mission I think I’d like to join you on.” I blinked back more tears, then looked around the yard and grinned from ear to ear. I really was happy. And this man really was mine to keep.

Forever.