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"Of course, I’m serious! Last night was just the beginning, Tilly. It’s only going to get worse." I know that she's right. Based on the few interactions I've had since arriving yesterday—holy shit, that seems like so long ago—things won't get better before they get worse. "I've held them off. Told them you were breaking up with him." She says it like he's the entire reason I'm in this position. "You can’t keep hiding at his mom's."
"I'm going home."
Her sigh is heavy, and I know she's rubbing her temple. "You really can't. This isn't going to work like it used to."
I square my shoulders. "I am. They can’t do this shit to me anymore."
"Tilly! You're not listening to me. Things are different now. Tia is hell-bent on bringing you on board. You really don't get it. You not working with us, it's threatening to her. Like you'll go throw us all under the bus."
I'm quiet. Not because I want to turn my family in, but because of what Tommy said. Even if I did want to, I don't know anything to help. I've never been involved with the family business. "It wouldn't be the worst thing…" I trail off, hoping to gauge her reaction.
"I'm coming over."
Her tone leaves no room for argument. "Fine. Do you have the address?"
She laughs, but it sounds hollow rather than amused. “Yeah, I’ll figure it out. You’re not good at being sneaky.” The call ends, leaving me to ponder what the hell she meant.
"You are not going back to that resort," Tommy says firmly once I hang up.
"I thought you didn’t control me?" Our gazes lock, a silent battle of wills. If he thinks I'll change my tune, he's wrong. He must know that. We've been friends for a very long time. Stubborn is basically my middle name.
"If you do, I'm going with you," he says. He might not know that I have no intention of going back, but I really don't want him thinking that he has this kind of control over me. Maybe it's juvenile, but I don't care. My entire life, people have been attempting to sway me, to coerce me, manipulate me into what they want. That's not going to happen anymore. I’m point two seconds from arguing when the doorbell rings, and we both tense. Henrietta, however, doesn’t hesitate and strides towards the door.
"Ma," Tommy calls after her, but she doesn’t falter. When she opens the door, a towering figure greets us.
The man on the porch must be over six and a half feet tall, his presence commanding, with a bushy beard, bald head, and narrowed eyes.
"Tilly and Tommy, this is Mack, one of my sous chefs," Henrietta says with a smile.
Mack extends a hand, his voice gruff. "Nice to meet you."
I swallow hard, taking in his imposing figure as I shake his rough palm. He towers over Tommy, his physique suggesting either he’s a gym rat, or maybe he's simply blessed with muscles that ripple across his body like an armored truck. Every inch of him radiates strength and authority. But it’s the intensity in his eyes that draws me in. This guy, good Jesus’s mother, he’s got dark and broody down. Almost on reflex, a gasp slips my lips and something that sounds almost like ‘hubba hubba.’
I feel Tommy's arm wrap around my waist and realize I've been staring. "Oh, relax," I mutter, but that just makes him tighten his grip. “You’re staring at him like he’s the last piece of cake.”
“Beefcake maybe,” I mumble, and Tommy scowls at me. Oh, I like that scowl. Typically, nothing bothers Tommy like this. He’s such a goofball. But one innocent scan of the specimen before me and he’s doing his best to imitate a guard dog on steroids.
Henrietta closes the door behind Mack, and we all move to the long couch. "Mack learned to cook in the Marines. He was wondering if he could keep you two company."
The clarity of Henrietta's call and her plan suddenly dawns on me, and I'm shaking my head before I can stop myself. "No way. I'm not going around with an overprotective boyfriend and a bodyguard in my shadow." I wince a little at the word "boyfriend." We haven't even discussed labels. But Tommy doesn't seem caught up on the term. Instead, he's focused on another part of my sentence.
"Overprotective? I'm sorry, am I overreacting to your family destroying your home or spying on you and threatening my mother?" He has a point, much as I hate to admit it.
Mack leans forward, a partial grin on his hidden hairy lips. "Miss, I'm just a deterrent. Only here to make them second guess doing anything rash. Usually, when people see me, they tend to rethink things." Mack says it with such confidence that I immediately believe him. Hell, I'm rethinking things, like how I should be more single and take him for a test ride. Of course, that's a ridiculous thought; I have been with Tommy exactly one time and already can't imagine being with anyone else. But hot damn, Mack is a fine specimen.
"Look, my sister is on her way. Let's just all take a breath until we hear what she has to say," I say, frustration seeping into the words.
Mack’s expression remains stoic. "I agree. Gather intel, then form a plan."
Sitting awkwardly, his arm going over my shoulder, Tommy breaks the silence. "Uh, thanks for doing this."
"No problem. For Enri, I'd pretty much do anything." Mack’s pronunciation of Henrietta’s nickname, sounding like 'onery,' fits her perfectly.
Tommy shifts forward, his body tensing beside me. "Are you two…?"
To my surprise, Mack laughs. "She's like a mom to me. To everyone at work, really. No, we're not romantically involved, if that's what you're asking."
I get it completely. In less than a day, I feel so connected to Henrietta that I'd do nearly anything she asked. She oozes maternal affection. For me, for Tommy, and even for the brick house of a man taking up half the couch with his giant body.
