Somebody's Angel (#5 in a Military Romance / BDSM Romance series) (Rescue Me) (10 page)

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a kid?”

“Didn’t know myself until a couple weeks ago.”

Damn. That was hard. Damián would have loved being a father to Marisol. Quickly doing the math, he figured Damián had probably been deployed when she was born, or soon after. Marc remembered how close they’d come to losing Damián, more from his depression than his wounds. Then it hit him.

“
Merda!
She’s the Savannah you were always talking about in Fallujah!” The girl had followed his friend’s thoughts into the morass when he’d been recovering at Balboa, too.

Damián nodded. “Yeah, but don’t call her Savannah. She’ll bite your head off and spit it back at you.”

“Duly noted.” Marc drained his glass and poured another. He wondered what had happened to split them up—and what had brought them back together—but didn’t want to pry into the man’s personal life any more than Marc wanted anyone prying into his.

He didn’t want to talk about Angelina, either. Or about what Melissa had said. Better to just keep drinking. Maybe he could get ripped before he went back upstairs. If he was really lucky, Angelina would be asleep, and he wouldn’t have to talk about the past anymore.

Damián drained his bottle and motioned for another, telling him they’d be leaving in the morning. “Thanks for everything. Seeing Savi and Marisol laughing out there today was great.”

He’d forgotten how much he’d enjoyed giving ski lessons at his family’s resort.
His
family’s.

“Glad to have you all here.” Marc came to a decision. “Looks like we’ll be leaving tomorrow, too.” The sooner he could get away from Aspen, the better.

“I thought you were going to stick around and visit with your family some more.”

“Change of plans.”

Karen set another bottle in front of Damián, who said, “Angelina said she liked them.”

Marc grinned. “They like her a lot, too. I tried to tell her she had nothing to worry about.”

Damián mentioned that Adam and Karla were returning from their honeymoon tomorrow. Adam had been like a big brother to Marc since Fallujah. After his falling out with Gino and his brother’s untimely death, a long time passed before Marc had trusted anyone enough to confide in them. Adam always gave great advice, sometimes as a big-brother figure, sometimes as master sergeant.

Shit, who was he kidding? Despite an invitation to stop by, Marc decided there was no fucking way he wanted to see Adam right now. The man would probably interrogate him until he told him what the fuck was going on. Marc needed some time on the mountain alone first. He needed breathing room.

“Tell them we’ll invite them over later this week. Angelina would love to cook something up. Why don’t you all come over, too?”

“I’d like that, but I’ll have to check with Savi.”

The two finished their drinks, lost in their own thoughts.

Should he talk with Mama and Papa about what Melissa had said? Why was he so afraid to do so? Afraid to upset them—or afraid to hear the truth? He’d tried not to make a big deal about Melissa’s accusation when he was with Angelina, but something kept niggling at the edges of his mind. What if…?

No, it was ridiculous.
He belonged to this family. Why else would Mama and Papa have visited him in the hospital in Germany at the height of ski season? If that didn’t show he was family, nothing would.

He admitted he hadn’t felt like a part of the family before that. He’d set himself apart from them in so many ways. Marc didn’t have the business drive of Mama and Gino. Even Sandro and Carmella exhibited that trait. Marc hadn’t figured out his calling until he’d enlisted in the Navy. But had he been the one placing distance between himself and his family, or had they?

He decided to ignore Melissa’s accusations. She only wanted to cause trouble. Did she think his new girl was a gold-digger, too? This had all been about undermining Angelina’s sense of security, hoping she’d leave Marc so Melissa could go after him full force. As if he’d fall for her again. However, Angelina
had
recognized the family name earlier at daVinci’s bar.

No! She isn’t Melissa!

Talk about insecurities! Shit, he knew she had no interest in his money or his family name. She’d fallen in love with him as a person before she knew where he lived or where he came from. With Angelina, he felt a sense of belonging. She loved Marc—and not because she wanted his money, his family name, or anything else. She just loved him.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He ran his hand through his hair. Why did Angelina put up with his shit?

“
Merda.
” Marc stood up. Hell, he hadn’t even seen to it that she ate dinner tonight. Some fucking Dom he was. “I need to go check on Angelina.”

Goddamn Melissa to hell for intruding in his life again.

After determining that Damián wasn’t interested in joining him and Angelina for dinner, he motioned to Karen and settled both checks.

Was the family that owned Bella Montagna really his by birth? Why did he have the feeling everything he’d known about himself his entire life would turn out to be a lie?

Did he really want to know the truth?

Chapter Five

A
ngelina lay curled into a ball on the humongous, empty bed. The thermostat had been set low because she and Marc liked to share body heat, but without him here, she was freezing. Lying with Marc, tangled up in his arms and legs, she’d always felt so cherished, protected…loved.

Dio,
she missed him. Her heart ached.

Why was he running from her? Heck, maybe she was the one who ought to be running. What wasn’t he telling her about Melissa? If the woman truly meant nothing to him any longer, he wouldn’t get so emotional talking about her.

Maybe she should have let Tony take her home after all. She and Marc had a lot to work out, but they weren’t going to do that in a place like this. She wanted to get back to what resembled real life and get out of this messed-up fantasy.

Funny, but she’d come here fighting her own insecurities. Marc had worked hard to get her to accept herself as beautiful, at least in his eyes. Melissa’s hurtful comments about her weight didn’t sting nearly as much as they would have four months ago. At dinner last night, she’d forgotten all of her insecurities. Marc’s family welcomed her as if she belonged in their world, and their lives; they even seated her as the guest of honor.

Now she didn’t know if Marc was even going to return to their room tonight. She’d been accepted by his family only to be rejected by him. Well, rejected was too strong a word. Neglected, maybe. But this weekend, she had discovered Marc had a few insecurities of his own. In some ways, that knowledge endeared him to her even more. Marc usually had an arrogant Dom swagger, but at other times, he seemed like a lost little boy. He accepted her, along with her insecurities and imperfections. How could she expect him to have none? She wasn’t looking for a perfect man, secure in himself all the time.

Still, Marc had been used by so many women in the past. No wonder he didn’t trust her gender. Would he ever be able to let down his guard with anyone—with
her
? To think she thought
she
was the one with trust issues after what Allen had done. Clearly, if she was going to establish a lifelong commitment with Marc, they’d have to work on some of
his
issues.

“Don’t wait up.”
His hurtful dismissal reverberated through her mind. As if she could sleep without him.

What if he didn’t return tonight? If she had a clue where to find him on this monstrous property, she’d search him out, but maybe he needed to regroup and come back on his own terms.

What was he running from this time? Was it what Melissa had said? He didn’t seem to give any credence to her claim that he was adopted. Then what was it? Tonight Marc had started to open up to her, only to pull the mask back in place and run from her.

Tired of shivering, she tossed the bedclothes back and went to the thermostat near the closet to adjust the dial. Soon the hum of the heater drowned out the deadly silence.

Angelina heard the lock on the door behind her whirr to life, and her heart tripped a beat.
Marc!
Relief flooded her as she turned to watch him kick the door open with his foot while struggling with a server’s tray laden with two room-service covers. The only light in the room came from the bathroom. His gaze homed in on the empty bed first, and then he scanned the room until he found her standing naked by the closet.

Angelina rushed to hold the door open and noticed the bottles of club soda and the familiar rectangular one of amaretto—the makings for an Italian tickler, her favorite cocktail. Maybe she was in store for an Italian tickler of another sort tonight, too.

He smiled at her, and for a moment, the world righted itself. Her spirits lifted.

“I raided the kitchen.”

Her stomach growled at the mention of food, even though she couldn’t smell anything from the tray he set on the bed.

“I’d planned to order you to strip first, but I see you’ve taken care of that already.”

What happened to alter Marc’s mood since he’d gone downstairs a couple of hours ago? Who cared? He was back with her. She walked into his embrace, loving the feel of her cheek against his shirt and his warm chest.

“I missed you, Marc.”

“I wasn’t gone long enough to miss, was I?”

Maybe not in chronological time, but he felt as if he’d been light years away. “You scared me. I didn’t know if you’d come back at all tonight.”

He grasped her upper arms and held her away, searching her face. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

She thought he might explain what that was all about, but he didn’t.

“It’s too late to take you out for dinner, but I’m going to make sure my girl is fed at least.” He pulled away and gazed down at her. “Wait here.”

He was leaving her again already? She stifled a groan, watching as he disappeared into the bathroom, returning with several fluffy white towels. He spread them over the pillows and the center of the bed and went to the bar to retrieve the ice bucket.

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He set the latch on the door to keep it from locking automatically and carried the bucket out for ice. Soon he returned to the room and placed the bottle of club soda in the ice bucket on the bedside stand. Why didn’t he just put it in the refrigerator?

He turned to her again.

“Lie in the center of the bed. On your back.”

A mixture of excitement and disappointment warred within her, but when he walked to the closet to retrieve some things from his toy bag, excitement won out. She crawled onto the bed and assumed the position he’d requested. Her Sir was back in control and taking care of her. Everything would be okay. Later, they could deal with whatever happened. Right now, it was Marc and Angelina and the rest of the world could go to…

When he brought the cuffs with chains toward her, she quirked a brow. “How can I eat if I’m in chains?”

“That’s for me to worry about. Tell me your safeword.”

“Red.” Her heart pounded as their oh-so-familiar Safe, Sane, and Consensual dance began.
But why would she need a safeword to eat?

“Your caution or slow-down word?”

Angelina swallowed hard to get past the pulse beating wildly in her throat. “Yellow.”

“Good girl. Now, I want silence unless you need to use one of your words or I ask a direct question.” He reached his hand out to her. “Give me your wrist.”

She obeyed, and within minutes he’d restrained both to the headboard posts. She always loved this position, because it lifted her girls to where they looked almost perky. Marc tweaked one nipple, and it swelled to life. He liked this position, too.

Preparing to get into the right headspace, she lowered her gaze to her feet only to be surprised when he cuffed the left one and chained it to the post on the footboard. Her stomach growled, and she looked up at him. “Is there even going to be any food tonight?”

He gave her a stern look, and she remembered her place, lowering her gaze.