The Hitman's Christmas Wish: Holiday Belles
“I want to get married on Christmas day. Here, at home,” Bella says, just peeking her head around my shoulder.
“That’s in five days.”
“I know. Mom and Brynn will help me.”
“I call Father Thomas. I am not happy that you’ve taken advantage of my daughter in my fucking kitchen, Fratelli.”
“He didn’t, daddy. I promise. We are waiting until we get married. This was just, um, a preview,” she says. “Oh, God, and that sounds terrible. Forget I said that.”
“I believe that I will. Clean this mess up before your mother gets home and put some decent clothes on. You know the rules.”
“Yes, of course, I do, but in my defense, you said you wouldn’t be home until eight,” Bella says.
“We finished up, and it’s my fucking house. I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“Sorry,” she says. Fabrizo turns on his heel and leaves the kitchen.
“Holy shit,” I groan as soon as he does.
“I don’t think he would have actually killed you,” she says, giggling.
“He absolutely would have. I don’t doubt that at all.”
“Nah. He loves me too much.”
“I love you too. More than I can say.”
“You don’t need to say anything,” she says, placing her soft palm on my stubbled cheek.”
“You’re going to be the death of me, mia bella.”
“But what a way to go.” I lower my head, kissing her softly. She moves away from me and begins to clean up the mess we made. Despite my near-death experience, I’m still rock hard. Five days. I can’t wait five more measly days before sinking balls deep into her, can’t I?
CHAPTER 4
BELLA
Oh. My. God. I am so in love with Alonzo. Now more than ever. He did things to my body that I didn’t know was possible, and that wasn’t even everything he could have done, far from it. Sucking him off turned me on even more than I was before. Scrubbing the counter doesn’t take my mind off of him.
“Fuck. You had me so distracted; I didn’t hear anyone come in. That can’t happen again,” he says, making me laugh.
“Alonzo, after Christmas, I don’t plan on getting anything else done for at least two weeks.”
“Two weeks? Girl, you are trying to kill me.”
“No, I’m really not. A honeymoon isn’t unheard of, Alonzo,” I tell him.
“Of course it’s not, but I have commitments. Things I’ve agreed to.”
“Do you mean hits?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“I do. I don’t do anything else.”
“I see,” she says.
“You don’t want me to do that?”
“I don’t want you to do anything that could get you taken away from me.”
“I’m the best,” he says. He’s not being immodest or braggy, and I know he’s the best, but that knowledge does nothing to fill the ache in my chest.
“Even the best lose once in a while,” I tell him, sadly. I walk into the laundry room, toss the dishtowel in the washing machine, and pick additional towels out of the hamper to add to the load. I go through the motions of adding the soap and fabric softener. I start the load, but I don’t go back out into the kitchen where I left Alonzo. Of course, I don’t want to be the kind of wife that has a problem with what her husband does for a living, but I do. Not what he does exactly. I know it’s necessary in the world we allow ourselves to be in, but he could get hurt, he could get arrested, and go away for murder. That’s what I’m worried about.
“What’s wrong, my love?”
“Nothing. Nothing. I was just starting the load of towels.”
“Your parents have someone who does that. You’re avoiding me.” He’s right, and Gia will be pissed I even touched the washing machine. She likes her settings just so, but I had to do something with my hands. I’ll have mom get her a bottle of wine or have dad add a little something to her next paycheck. She’ll forgive me.
“I’m not avoiding you,” I lie.
“I can move some things around and take you on a real honeymoon. Someplace special, expensive,” he says, making me mad.
“That’s not what I meant at all. If that’s what you really think of me, maybe we shouldn’t do this,” I say, irrationally angry at his words.
“That’s not what I meant, baby,” he says, coming toward me, but I sidestep him, moving to the other side of the room.
“Yes, it is, or you wouldn’t have said it. Just so you know, I would have been happy with two weeks in a bed. Any bed,” I say, leaving the laundry room, and I book it up the back staircase and lock myself in my bedroom.
Flinging myself down on my bed like a dramatic soap opera starlet, I let my tears fall freely. How did I not know he thought I was so spoiled like that? I don’t know him as well as I thought I did. Not at all. What am I going to do now? I am insane, and I know it, but today has been emotional. Grabbing my phone off of the charger, I dial Brynn.