Come To Me (Owned Book 3) (32 page)

I was on a mission in Venice when I found “the ring”. An old woman was giving me food and shelter above her shop. GEM had a lot of setups like that around the globe. They didn’t put you up in fancy hotels; they shucked you on the locals like quartered soldiers. By all outward appearances it was a humble shop, the woman even humbler. Of course by then I knew better than to trust outward appearances.

On the third night the woman sat me down. She held a ring between her fingers and looked at me in earnest while I shoveled minestrone into my mouth.

“My name is Lucia Pavoni. Sixty years ago my brothers left to America. They left me with nothing, but they couldn’t take this ring. It’s priceless. The stone unique. You could ask any gem master.” I wiped soup from my mouth, looking from Lucia to the ring. I wasn’t sure there was such a thing as a gem master, but that really wasn’t the point. I leaned back into the wood chair as Lucia told me her story.

It was a sad story, but it was complete shit. From the moment Lucia told me her name, I knew she was after something. Forget the fact that her English was flawless, the Pavoni crime syndicate was the biggest crime family in the world. Maybe she was a sick old lady abandoned by her brothers, but more likely, she was some kind of Pavoni Matriarch holding down the fort in Venice.

The ring gleamed under the low light, the colors shifting from teal to midnight to Egyptian and finally to Atlantic blue, but never staying the same. I’d never seen anything like it, but it was just like looking into Lenny’s eyes. Later I’d come to know the stone was one of the rarest sapphires in the world.

“All right, how much?” I asked.

The old woman looked shocked, pulling it against her breast. “This ring is not for sale.”

“Of course not,” I remarked. “But I leave tomorrow.”

“Get a message to my great niece Isabelle and keep the ring. Keep the ring and don’t give the message…” Her sweet demeanor vanished, and I saw the cool, cruel face of a Pavoni Matriarch. I left the next morning with the rest of my crew, ring in tow, but took a detour to New York.

I delivered the message the old Pavoni woman asked. It ended up being a bit more complicated than giving someone a piece of paper, but that’s a story for another time. In the end, I kept the ring.

Then, well, you know what happened.

Shit got complicated with Lenny and me, even more complicated than before.

I was never happy with our arrangement. In the beginning, we weren’t exclusive. I used to come back to her every few months knowing she’d been fucking some dude while I was away. Sure, I’d been doing the same—well, not with a dude, but yeah. Even after we stopped all that and moved in together, I wasn’t happy. It wasn’t enough.

I wanted to make an honest woman out of her or some shit.

So driving back from the store with Seven’s niggling little words in my ear, I was pissed.

Before, I’d been waiting for the right time. I wanted it to be perfect; Lenny deserved that much. I wanted roses, candles, a fucking meteor shower, the aurora borealis, and the second coming when I got down on my knee and promised the world to her.

If the past had taught me anything, though, it was if I kept waiting, I would die. I took a harsh turn just before our street, honks ringing in my ear. Lenny could wait another thirty minutes, there was something I needed to grab from my PO box.

I
quickly handed her the box of chocolate and sausage. She thanked me, a big grin on her face. Crumbs fell over her chest as she dug into the sweets. If I hadn’t been certain before, when we were going through all the shit, I knew right then. With a bit of chocolate smudged across her chin, sitting cross-legged, watching some shit musical…I would never, ever let that woman go.

Just as she was about to tear into the sausage, I got down on my knee.

“What are you doing?” She looked at me, taking a bite of the sausage. “Did you drop something?”

I pulled out the ring and thrust it forward. About a moment later I realized I hadn’t prepared anything to say. Maybe I wasn’t going to wait for the second coming, but shit, I could have at least prepared a fucking speech.

“What the hell is this?” she exclaimed, standing off the bed. Sausage and chocolate flew everywhere.

“I thought it was pretty obvious.” I shrugged, gesturing at the ring. The colors caught the light, like the ancient ring knew more than us.

“You want to marry me? Why?” She hurriedly brushed crumbs off her pajamas. The top was a long sleeved button up with side pocket, the bottoms were tied with a thick bow. Either silk or cotton, I wouldn’t be able to tell until she was in my arms. When she’d stood, the fact that she hadn’t buttoned her shirt entirely was made obvious. Her left breast was partially exposed, the nipple peeking out.

“Lennox Moore.” I laughed, shaking my head. “I’ve loved you since the day you crashed into me in the hall. Are you seriously asking me that?”

“Is it because I’m pregnant? You don’t want a bastard or something?” Lenny tugged on the bottom of her shirt fretfully and her entire breast became exposed. I shifted on the floor uncomfortably, my cock hardening. Shaking my head, I tried to clear my thoughts. Now was not the time.

I had the rest of my life for that. Hopefully.

Slowly, I stood up off my knee and brought Lennox in by the arms. “I’m a bastard, you know.”

“I don’t mean your attitude, Vic. I mean in the eighteen hundreds Victorian English way.”

“Yeah, me too.” I pulled her in close by the fabric of her open shirt. I carefully undid the rest of the buttons until the flaps hung open on either side. I slid my hands in, cupping her, then I brought her naked chest close to me.

“Oh…” Chin on my chest, she looked up at me. Her big eyes gleamed like the stone. “I guess it never came up. Well, I don’t care either way, Vic. I love you and I don’t need a ring or a piece of paper to prove that.”

I laughed. “After everything we’ve gone through, I think I know that.”

“So what is this?” She took the ring out of my hand. “Why?”

“Is it so hard to believe that I love you?” I kissed her neck. “I want to marry you, Lennox Moore. I want to make you mine in every way possible. If branding was a thing, I might consider it.”

She furrowed her brow and looked into the face of the stone. “You’re an ass, but I trust you.”

I lowered my hand and slid it between her pajama pants. No underwear. Her tummy was slightly rounding, her skin was hot, her pussy was wet. I groaned. “God, I want you Lenny. Forever. Always.”

Lenny fell into me and I caught her. I would always catch her. I drummed my fingers against her clit. She tried to snake her fingers around my neck but I caught them.

“Not yet, put the ring on.”

She slid the ring on her finger. “It’s beautiful.” A second later she added, “I’m not letting you brand me.”

“We’ll revisit the idea later.”

L
ater we sat in bed, discussing how to tell our friends and family. Lenny wanted to tell everyone at the same time, to avoid hurt feelings. I really didn’t think anyone would give a fuck when they found out, but she was adamant.

With the conversation at a lull, I reached on the nightstand and grabbed the remote. Time to watch
Aliens.
Payback for all those goddamn musicals.

“Some couples get engagement photos done,” I remarked.

“Oh! Oh!” She turned to me, excited.

“You actually want to do that?” I raised a brow. “I was joking.”

“No.” Lenny shook her head. “You know how you had to get senior photos done back in high school?”

“I left school to join the marines and become a super spy,” I reminded her, pressing power to the TV. The screen stayed blank, so I pressed it again. Still nothing.

“Oh, of course, how could I forget?” Lenny rolled her eyes. “Well, you do. They’re these cheesy photos that parents have as a memento or some shit. You know, knuckle under chin, weird grin, that shit. Anyway, I had a different idea.”

“Of course you did.” I banged the remote; no batteries. “What did you do with the batteries?” I asked, turning to her.

“They died for a good cause…” At my inquisitive look, she clarified: “My vagina.” I couldn’t argue with that. “Anyway,” Lenny continued, “I wanted to reenact famous suicides in history.” I turned my assault to the clock, other remotes, basically anything that might have a battery. Every single thing was empty.

“Should I look downstairs or did your vagina eat those batteries too?” I asked.

“I’m really horny now that I’m pregnant.” She shrugged. I set the remote down and crawled over to her on the bed.

“Well I’m here…” I kissed her belly and started pulling down her pants.

Lenny shucked me off. “I already burned through a few batteries today.” I had given her many orgasms just hours before, to celebrate the engagement. And, you know, because orgasms. When I’d tried to climb on top of her, she’d push me away then as well. When I’d tried to pin her to the wall, she’d wrestled away.

It was odd, but I wasn’t going to rock the boat. Lenny was pregnant. Non-fetus carrying Lenny was enough to handle, I was sure fetus loading Lenny was going to come with a few quirks. Giving up, I hopped off the bed and manually turned on the TV. While I was finagling to find the right app, I asked Lenny, “How did your father react?”

“What?” She looked up from her baby book.

“When you asked to kill yourself for your senior photo.”

“Okay I didn’t ask to ‘kill myself’ for my senior photo, but he reacted with as much emotion as is possible for an emotionally dead person. He said no.”

“I imagine for a person who lost a wife to suicide and nearly a daughter, it didn’t seem like a great idea.”

“The kids at school called me suicide girl; it was a tongue and cheek reaction to that.”

“You never told me that,” I said lightly, sitting back down on the bed.

Lenny shrugged, eyes in her book. “High school is dead and buried. I don’t like to live among corpses.”

“You’re marrying one,” I pointed out.

She stuck out her tongue. “Anyway…what if we did that?”

“You’re serious?”

“Please?”

I could deny her nothing.

“W
hat is this one supposed to be?” Eli asked, a grimace on his face.

“Oh!” Lenny pointed excitedly at the proof. “That’s Hemingway, see the shotgun?”

“I guess I don’t really see how this is romantic,” Zoe said, pushing away the laptop as much as she could. We were crammed around the table outside, and only the laptop and the phone had the proofs from the photoshoot. Remarkably, no one was cramming around those.

“Well those are the solo ones,” Lenny said exasperated, as if that explained everything. “The couple ones are on this USB.” Her elbows knocked into me and Grace as she rooted around her bag, looking for the other stick.

“We did Antony and Cleopatra and Romeo and Juliet,” I added, trying to give more context. Truth was, there really wasn’t much. We’d dressed up in crazy outfits, used a lot of fake blood, and had to hire a very open-minded photographer. Lenny had been over the moon; with every photo she looked at she was one step away from clutching to her heart.