22

Armani

When Tiana emerges from the bathroom, dressed in the clothes she wore when we arrived, I can kick my own ass.

She has nothing clean to wear.

Upset with myself, I stalk into the bedroom and yank one of my shirts off a hanger. I hold the shirt out to her. “Wear this to sleep in. I’ll get you clothes first thing tomorrow morning.”

Her cheeks flush as she takes the fabric from me before darting back into the bathroom.

There’s a knock at the door, and I open it for the server, who pushes a cart into the living room. I sign the receipt to add the charge to my account and shut the door behind him.

I didn’t know what to order for Tiana, so I got a variety of foods.

I hear movement behind me, and when I glance over my shoulder, my heart stutters and my jaw drops.

Gesù Cristo, I didn’t think this through.

The shirt engulfs Tiana’s petite frame, the fabric stopping above her knees. Her wet hair hangs down her back, and her makeup-free face is a picture of pure innocence.

The sight of her in my shirt is borderline erotic. Desire ignites in my veins, and my cock hardens at the speed of light.

She tugs nervously on the hem as she comes closer. “What are we eating?”

“Ah…” Reluctantly I tear my eyes away from her and lift the lids off the plates. I keep one of the lids positioned in front of my crotch so Tiana

won’t see the hard-on she’s given me. “I wasn’t sure what you like, so I got a variety of dishes. Help yourself.”

Tiana looks at all the food, and for the first time, a smile that’s not forced spreads over her face. Gratitude shines from her eyes as she says, “Thank you, Armani.”

Misha told me about their years in the orphanage, so I know how important food is to Tiana.

Now that I’ve seen what she looks like and I’m getting to know her, it breaks my fucking heart picturing her as a little girl who almost starved to death.

“You’re welcome, piccola mia,” I murmur, affection softening my tone.

Her smile falters, and while she picks up a plate of roasted vegetables and grilled chicken thighs, she asks, “Why do you call me little girl?”

It’s the second time tonight she’s bringing up this subject. Tilting my head, my eyes search hers. “Because you’re so small. Does it bother you?”

Tiana sits down on the couch, and keeping her eyes trained on the food, she whispers, “I’m not a little girl.”

A frown forms on my forehead. “I know. I don’t mean it condescendingly. It’s a cute nickname.”

I help myself to a plate of slow-cooked lamb and take a seat across from

her.

“People tend to treat me like a child,” she admits. “It’s very frustrating.”

Trust me, I won’t treat you like a child. Especially if you keep wearing my shirt.

“I’ll never do that.” Giving her a reassuring smile, I say, “I’ll pick a new nickname for you.”

Her cheeks flush pink. “You don’t have to.” “Bella? It means beautiful.”

Tiana’s eyes flick to mine, and the pink on her cheeks deepens in color. “I like that.”

A satisfied smile spreads over my face. “Eat your food, bella.”

My eyes lower to her sexy as fuck legs and get stuck on her thighs, that are exposed because the fabric has ridden up.

She’s already uncomfortable enough. She doesn’t need you eye-fucking

her.

I force my gaze to her face and say, “We should get to know each other

better. What else do you dislike?”

She swallows the bite she took and licks her lips. “Ahh…” The nervousness is back on her face, and I don’t like it at all.

“I don’t like being yanked around,” she admits. Her eyes fill with caution. “If I’m told what to do, I’ll do it. I don’t need to be slapped.”

Christ, give me strength.

“I’ll never hit you, Tiana,” I assure her. A pleading expression tightens her features, and it has me adding, “I promise. I’ll never be violent toward you.”

She stares at me briefly before asking, “Do you have any rules?”

I cut a piece of meat. “Just the loyalty one. No man is to touch you, and you’re not allowed to be alone with one.” Before I pop the bite into my mouth, I add, “That excludes Misha and Alek, of course.”

Tiana nods obediently. “What about the chores I have to do? Do you want me to stay out of your way when you're home? Is there a specific way you like your food to be prepared? Will I do the shopping? Do you–”

I hold up a hand to stop the questions and swallow the food before I chuckle. “I don’t want you hiding whenever I’m home. I’ll eat whatever you prepare, and I’d appreciate it if you’d take care of the house and shopping.”

An emotion I can’t place trembles in her eyes as she asks, “Will I be allowed to make your apartment my home?”

God help me. I hate the fucked up life this angel had to endure.

I take a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Setting the half-eaten plate of food on the coffee table, I wipe my mouth with a napkin while I fight to control the anger threatening to fill my chest.