6. Vin

For the first time in a long time, I sleep comfortably all night beside a woman. It's been a long time since that's happened. Since Cynda. Before she broke my heart, anyway. Pushing thoughts of that traitor aside, I open my eyes and turn onto my side to watch the angel still sleeping beside me.

Because that's exactly what she looks like. Hannah's long, blonde hair is spread all over the pillow, surrounding her like a golden pool, and I'm tempted to reach out and touch a silky strand. Long, black lashes practically sweep across her high cheekbones and her full, pink lips look soft and, God help me, so damn kissable.

I shouldn't have kissed her last night. Not that it was much of a kiss, but I did press my lips to hers briefly and, dammit, it was more memorable than any kiss I've had within the last five years. Thinking about it, even though it had been completely innocent, makes my body react. Shit. I tell myself to shut it down, to ignore the lust rising within me and, instead, I focus on the innocent woman sleeping so close I can smell her baby powder scent.

Hannah Everson is beautiful. It's not something I can ignore. She's also sweet and trusting. I have an unexplainable and all-consuming urge to take care of her. I don't want her returning to some dumpy apartment and low-paying job where she has to stand on her feet all day. Instead, I want to sweep her off to my luxury apartment, tuck her into my king-size bed and worship her. I want to give her gifts and money and make her life easy. I'd also like to give her pleasure. So much pleasure that her body would writhe and she'd cry out my name.

I know I'm not going to ever give my heart away again. Having it crushed once was enough and I promised myself that I would never allow myself to be vulnerable like I was with Cynda. But, I could still have Hannah in my life, couldn't I? A girlfriend or wife isn't an option. However, I'm open to a lover. Wide fucking open. When I look at Hannah, I know I have to be careful, though. She's young, tempting and could fuck my heart up big-time if I were to be stupid enough to open it up again.

But that isn't going to happen, though. I can handle a beautiful woman in my bed. Make her my mistress, my lover. I just have to make sure my feelings don't extend beyond that. Protecting my heart is paramount. I refuse to be made a fool of again by a woman I thought I loved and trusted. No fucking way. It's not a chance I'll ever take again.

Hearts, love and all that bullshit are off the table. Sex, fucking and gifts are what I'm thinking. What I can handle.

But, can she?

Hannah's lips part and a soft breath escapes. Her face looks so soft and at ease while she sleeps. I could watch her forever. I'm not sure what it is about her that draws me in so completely. Her innocence? Her smile? Her beauty? Her intelligence? God knows, she is the full package.

Speaking of packages…

I stifle a groan and flip onto my back, ignoring the way my morning wood tents the sheet. Fuck me. It's more than that, though. Whether she realizes it or not, Hannah Everson has unleashed a shitload of feelings and sensations in me. Emotions that I thought were long-dead and never to return. To be honest, I'm not sure how I feel about it, either. It scares me, excites me…makes me want to jump up and down and ask her out on a date.

Rolling my head, I look over at her and wonder if she'd like to go to dinner with me. Ten years is a pretty decent age gap, but nothing too crazy, right? I'm only thirty-two not sixty-two. I'm just glad I was able to pay off the money she owed to that asshole Dexter Creed. Now that he has what he wants, there's no reason he should be sending his goons to harass her any further. She should be completely out of danger.

Hannah's eyes flutter open a moment later and her baby blues look slightly confused, as if she can't remember where she is or why I'm here. Then the edge of her mouth lifts in a half-smile.

"Good morning," I say.

"Good morning." She stretches like a very satisfied feline and my attention drops to the white negligee. She's a tiny thing, but her luscious breasts press against the silky material and I force myself to look away. Squeezing my eyes shut, I suppress a groan and try not to picture the light pink, dusk-colored nipples that I just glimpsed. Impossible. The image is forever burned in my mind and my dick flares back to life.

Turning onto my side to hide my raging hard-on, I blurt out, "Can I take you out to dinner tonight?"

Smooth, I mentally chastise myself. Real smooth, idiot.

Surprise flashes across her face. "Really? I mean, yes, I'd like that." A blush steals over her cheeks.

I love how she gets shy all of a sudden and it takes every bit of my self-control not to drag her over and kiss her senseless. Hell, I'd like to do a lot more than that. I want to part those sweet thighs and kiss her lower lips until her juices cover my mouth and tongue. I want to lick and suck her clit until she's crying out in pleasure. Then I want to sink my cock deep inside her wet heat and make her come again. Make her scream my name.

Make her all mine. Only mine.

Pulling in a deep, steadying breath, I force myself to calm down. One thing at a time. "How's six o'clock?" I ask, my voice hoarse with need.

"Good." She sits up and pulls my jacket up and around her shoulders because it had slipped off. It's way too big, but I like it on her. Way more than I should.

"Good." She's looking at me like she can't quite believe we're in bed together. "Go use the bathroom first. Then I'll drive you home."

"Okay." After one last, long look, she slides out of bed and disappears inside the bathroom.

Dropping back, I throw and arm over my head, squeeze my eyes shut and ignore my throbbing dick.

For some reason—a reason I'm trying not to think about too hard—I'm not quite ready to let go of Hannah Everson. And that's a damn dangerous thing for me.

After we both freshen up quickly, I escort her down to my car. She slides in and I shut the door, make my way around and get into the driver's side. Hannah gives me an address in Brooklyn and I plug it into the GPS. I'm not sure what I expect, but the closer we get to her place, the more my heart sinks. The neighborhood isn't great and I don't like what I'm seeing. I don't like it at all. The idea of her living in a dirty, crime-ridden neighborhood bothers me. A fucking lot.

"Right there," she says, pointing to a dumpy brick building.

Gritting my teeth, I pull up alongside the curb and turn the car off. "I'll walk you up."

"Are you sure? You don't have to?—"

"I'm sure," I insist.

First, I want to check the place out and make sure everything is okay. Especially after she told me how Creed's man had broken in last night. We walk up to the front door and she opens it without using a key. Just pushes the damn thing open—which means anyone else could do the same.

"Why isn't there a lock?" I demand.

"Oh, there is. It's just, ah, broken. Maintenance keeps saying they'll fix it, but they're taking their good ol' time." She gives me a little shrug and I follow her, not liking that answer at all.

The inside isn't much better and I try not to cringe or judge. The carpet is old and worn, practically threadbare in places, and a musty smell hangs in the air. The dusty light fixture has two burned-out bulbs and I sneeze.

"Bless you," Hannah says as I automatically start toward the elevator. "Oh, ah, I usually take the stairs."

"Why?" I ask, almost not wanting to know the answer.

"I don't trust that elevator. It's gotten stuck one too many times. And, I'm only on the second floor, so it's not too bad."

This whole place is bad, I want to say, but I keep my mouth shut. It's none of your business, Vin, I tell myself. Don't worry about it.

Easier said than done, though. For whatever reason, Hannah is becoming my responsibility, a priority, and I want her to be safe and well taken care of.

Just like I figured, the front door to her apartment is still ajar and she immediately pauses. I walk past her and push the door all the way open. I scan the small living room area and adjacent kitchen. Nothing looks out of place. But, it's a sad, little place. With just a couch covered by a thin afghan and a worn-looking recliner, my frown deepens. A glance to the left shows me a miniscule kitchen that can barely fit a fridge and a very small table and two chairs.

Hannah Everson deserves so much better than this place. But what am I supposed to do about it?

"Wait here while I check the rest of the place out," I tell her and stride down the hallway. There's a small bathroom that you can barely turn around in and then one more doorway. I step through it and see it's her bedroom. A worn comforter covered in pink and green flowers covers the bed and I stalk forward and pull open the closet. It's nearly empty. A handful of hangers hold threadbare clothing and three pairs of shoes sit on the floor.

Shit.My chest tightens as it occurs to me that my angel has even less money than I realized. A part of me wants to immediately wire a million bucks into her account. Hell, I wouldn't even miss it. Besides, Enzo will make me that much money this year alone.

Running a hand along the top of a scarred dresser, I see it's missing a knob. I don't like Hannah living here. Not one fucking bit. But what can I do to change that? I wonder.

"Vin? Is everything okay?"

I turn and see her step into the room, a wary look on her beautiful face.

No, it's not okay,I want to tell her. You're living in a shithole and you should be in a mansion.

Instead, I turn to her and force a smile. "Yeah. The front door lock is broken, though. I'm going to send someone over to fix that right away, okay?"

"You don't have?—"

"Consider it done," I interrupt, my voice gentle, but firm.

"Okay. Um, thanks."

She starts wringing her hands like she did before and I reach out and grab them, putting an end to the nervous gesture. "C'mon and walk me out."

Touching her feels so right, way too good, but I force myself to let go. Later. In the meantime, we walk back to the flimsy front door and I can't help but frown again. I stalk over to the tiny kitchen table, grab a chair and drag it over. "After I leave, wedge this under the doorknob. Don't open it again until the repairman comes, okay?"

"Okay."

After getting her phone number and programming it into my phone, I have to physically force myself to leave. "I'll be back at six o'clock," I remind her.

"We don't need to go anywhere fancy or anything," she says, looking a little nervous.

A flash of her limited wardrobe fills my head. "Don't worry about that. Wear whatever you're comfortable in and I'll see you soon."

"Thank you, Vin," Hannah says.

I nod then make myself turn and walk away. I have no idea why this is so damn hard, but everything inside of me wants to take her with me. Leaving her here doesn't sit well with me and I vow to change it.

How, though?I wonder again.

On the drive home, I call up one of the family security guards and tell him Hannah's address. I don't think Creed will cause any more problems but, just in case, I want someone stationed outside of Hannah's apartment to keep watch.

Getting her out of this neighborhood and that awful apartment is my first priority. Drumming my fingers against the steering wheel, I remember the new job I'm starting Monday and how I'm going to need an assistant.

Perfect.

I'll hire Hannah to be my executive assistant and pay her an outrageous salary so she can move into a better place. She said she didn't like her job at the diner and why would she? I can offer her something much better, stable, and, at the same time, I can keep a close eye on her. Keep her close to me.

Losing her mom was hard and the idea of her being all alone in this world guts me. Not anymore. From this point forward, Hannah has me. She may not know it yet, but I'm going to make sure my angel is taken care of. I have the means, so why the hell not? No woman has snagged my interest like this in so long. Which, of course, makes me nervous…it also makes me damn excited, too.

Take it easy, Vin,I warn myself. One step at a time. I'll see if she's interested in working at the wine company—why wouldn't she be?—and then we'll go from there. We'll have a nice dinner tonight and see how everything goes. I know she said she didn't want to go anywhere fancy, but screw that. I'm planning to wine and dine her like never before. I'm going to take her to the nicest restaurant in the city and feed her until she can't eat another bite. She's getting something better than a damn grilled cheese tonight. I plan to spoil her rotten. I can only imagine how hard her life has been lately with her mother passing and I want to take all of that pain and stress away.

I'm going to need some help, though, and I pull up Carlotta's number.

"Hi, Vin, what's up?" she answers.

"Hey, Lottie. I need a favor."

"Oh? What?"

I'm the self-sufficient brother, so I can hear the curiosity in her voice. "Keep this to yourself, please, but I need you to pick out a nice outfit. Maybe a dress? And then have it sent to the address I give you."

"For who?"

I can hear the curiosity in her voice.

"A woman," I say, keeping it vague.

"Okaaaay. Obviously, duh. C'mon, give me more than that."

"No details yet, nosy."

"Well, I'm going to need to know a few things. Like where are you going, what size does she wear and what color is her hair?"

"Why do you need to know her hair color?" I ask suspiciously.

"Because…" Her voice trails off as she searches for a plausible answer. "So I can pick a color that will be flattering."

"Sure." Somehow, I don't quite believe her, but I tell her, anyway. "She has blonde hair, blue eyes and she's tiny. But curvy."

"Sounds like you've been busy, big brother," she teases. "She sounds pretty."

"She's more than pretty."

"Where did you meet?"

"I don't have time to get into details. Can you help me out or not?"

"You're lucky I have some free time and that you're my favorite brother."

I roll my eyes. She tells us all we're her favorite brother. I rattle off Hannah's name and address and my sister promises me she's on it.

"Thanks, Lottie. Put it on my tab and don't spare any expense."

"Oh, you bet I will. Are you sure you don't want me to hand-deliver the outfit myself? Because I can."

"No, nosy. Have a courier take care of it, please."

"Oh, alright."

"Thank you." I disconnect the call and shake my head. Carlotta is the baby and we all love her dearly, but she has to be the nosiest person I've ever met. She's always up in everyone's business and loves to gossip. I hope she doesn't decide to deliver the outfit she picks out, but there's no controlling my little sister. If she wants to do something then she'll do it no matter what we say.

A smile tugs at my mouth and I realize how damn much I'm looking forward to tonight and dinner with Hannah. Maybe if I'm really lucky, I'll get another kiss. If I'm supremely lucky, perhaps I'll be fortunate enough to share her bed again.

A man can dream, right?