I loll in bed like a fucking pussy. Hiding within that timeless space between sleep and reality. Because I don’t want to argue with Ty. I don’t want to fight through the hangover churning in my head and my gut. And I sure as hell don’t want to fucking face Molly.

Most people go to church to atone their sins. That’s absolution I’ll never fucking earn. Especially from the angel downstairs. Filling the house with the sweet temptation of pancakes and maple syrup. A bittersweet chuckle bubbles in my throat. Eli and everything in a two foot radius of him probably sticky and crumb covered.

So these are my choices. Man up and eat breakfast with my little brother. And fucking face the shame and awkwardness of Molly’s disapproval. Or, be an asshole and torture myself on the asphalt with sweat and pain until they leave for the zoo.

I roll out of bed and head into the bathroom. Only gagging once as I brush my teeth, swallowing back down the whiskey and self-loathing threatening to drown me. I pull on my running shorts and grab my shoes. Yep, bastard it is. Always have been, so no reason to change now.

Jogging down the back stairs two at a time like a man with a ghost on his ass, if not his conscience, I focus on my path. Through the butler's pantry and dining room to the patio doors. Then I'll be free.

I skip the last step, gaining speed as I turn the corner — my goal in reach. Only a few more steps. A flutter of silver fabric flashes in the mirror above the wet bar but I'm unable to stop in time.

Molly.

"Fuck!"

“Oh!”

Her petite body is no match for my size and momentum, and she stumbles back, unable to keep from falling on her cute little ass. A casserole dish slips from her hand crashing to the tile, littering the floor with slices of French toast. She blinks a few times before looking up, and fuck me if her huge blue eyes aren't filled with tears. Uncertain if they're from pain or embarrassment. It doesn't fucking matter. Either way she cries because of me.

Before I can think, I scoop her up. Her body’s rigid and unyielding under my touch. But then I feel it. For that split second her gaze meets mine and her chest lifts from the deep intake of breath. Her delicate hand rests on my pounding heart. She’s not afraid.

And I'm almost fucking delirious with happiness. An emotion I haven't felt in too damn long. I just stare at her fucking beautiful face. Savoring this gorgeous woman I never expected to have wrapped in my arms. If only for a moment.

Her long blond hair brushes over my forearm, making goosebumps rise on my blazing skin. The little pulse in her throat races like my throbbing cock. Instinct kicks in, and I curl her tighter against me. It would be so fucking easy to nuzzle her neck and breathe in her sweet scent. God I fucking need this girl in my bed. "I didn't—"

A sharp gasp breaks the spell, and she pulls her eyes from mine, nodding toward her bare feet. "I'm bleeding."

Blood.

Fire singes my pounding chest. A line of scarlet sneaks across her heel, with thick drops falling to the grey porcelain like a rich merlot.

Nothing like the blood that covered my hands.

And her face.

Tyson's bare feet from running to Rachael crumpled on the floor.

While I just stood there like a dumb ass. Too shocked to do anything but watch her life spill out onto the concrete.

Fucking shit. I shake my head, forcing away the memories erupting in my brain, and focus on Molly. She clutches me, pinching my skin when I jerk toward the kitchen. Glass shards crunch under my Nikes as I race away from the reminder of my selfishness.

Eli’s fork clatters from the sudden descent to his plate. His wide-eyed gaze jerks from me to the woman we both love. Not sure if I’m jealous or relieved that he cares more about her than me. But the fear furrowing his brow jabs my gut like a punch. Ty and I might be assholes, but we’d never lay a finger on a woman, and Eli needs to know that straight up fact right now.

“She cut her foot on broken glass. Don’t go back there. I’ll clean it up after we take care of her.”

Eli looks to her, seeking her confirmation. She gives him a confident smile, relieving his doubt, and my shoulders relax as his body softens. Yet shame still swills in my stomach from him not believing me. Fuck me for letting our relationship get to the point where he trusts his nanny over his own fucking brother. I've got to fix that shit in a fucking hurry.

I shove the heaping platter of scrambled eggs and bacon out of the way and gingerly set her on the marble top. Already missing her silky skin warming my bare chest. Pushing down the thoughts of what it would be like to lay her back and strip off the tiny thong I know she wears. Nothing makes me fucking harder than when the satin ribbon peeks out from above her jeans when she bends over to pick up Eli's toys and games.

He hops off his stool and bounds down the hallway toward the bathroom. "I'll get the first aid kit."

Damn, I fucking love that kid. So fucking smart. I can't help but smile at his desire to help.

"I'm sorry, Luciano. I didn't see you on the steps."

Luciano.

Nobody but my mother and her can get away with calling me that. And it's like lightening straight to my balls every time my full name rolls off Molly's sweet lips. How she slowly tested each syllable on her tongue after I introduced myself during our interview. So earnest trying to ensure she pronounced it correctly. I never set her straight. Even though Ty and Eli call me Luc she never does. And I'm not sure I ever want her to. "It's my fault, angel. I need to slow down."

She flushes from my term of endearment and fuck me if the pink bursting on her ivory skin doesn't make me rock hard again. I'd fucking love to see her body respond to the other words I'd whisper in her ear as she sprawls naked underneath me.

Eli runs back in, clutching a yellow box to his chest, yanking me out of my pussy ass daydream. Thinking like a motherfucking idiot that there could ever be anything physical between me and her.

He lays the plastic container on the table, and with a reverent touch his fingers slide open the clasp. I rummage through antibiotic ointment and tiny scissors to grab some gauze and show him how to apply pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. His little head bobs, absorbing every word and direction with the seriousness of a surgeon saving a life.

I glance at Molly, checking to see if she's getting as much of a kick out of him as I am. But, her entire focus remains on Eli. That weepy, 'oh my sweet baby' expression that women get when their kids impress them with their ingenuity. The look my mother used to give me. The look I haven't earned in a very long time.

"Like this?"

His face pinches in concentration as he presses against her skin with more force than necessary.

"Yeah, it's perfect."

A huge, snaggle tooth grin lights up his face from my approval. So proud to be taking care of the woman who always takes care of him. He pats her again, his little nails curling against the edge of the cotton, peeking to see if the bleeding has stopped. "She needs a Band-Aid."

"Well, go ahead then. Put one on."

I swear to fucking god his narrow shoulders square back, determination filling his tiny fingers as they manhandle a bandage decorated with his favorite cartoon character and clumsily pull off the protective papers before placing it crookedly over her gash. This time his gaze flicks to her, seeking her acceptance of his handiwork.

"Thank you, Eli." She twists her foot side to side, inspecting his efforts with a thoughtful exaggeration that makes him beam with pride. "You did a great job."

His almost iridescent blue eyes glow even brighter and scarlet stains his cheeks. "You're welcome."

"Good job, little man." I toss my head toward the mess in the entryway. "You clean up in here, and I'll take care of the glass."

"Okay!" He fists most of the discarded packaging and grabs the kit before running back down the hallway. Little pieces of white paper swirl in his breeze like confetti.

Once he's out of sight, I turn back to her. "You okay?"

Short white nails pick at the adhesive, quickly straightening the dressing to properly cover her injury before he returns. "Yes, thank you."

She fiddles with the latex more than necessary, unwilling to look at me. Fucking great. Things are more awkward than ever, if that's even fucking possible. Now we need a fucking preschooler to chaperone us. "I'll get the broom."

Yeah, I'm a fucking pussy. Easier to avoid the tension between us than try to resolve it.

Her head finally flies up. Uncertainty lining her stunning face. "Th-that's okay. I can do it."

Even worse. She thinks I'm too fucking spoiled to even sweep my own god damn floor. "I got it."

A hesitant nod to my harsh tone. Taking my anger at myself out on her. Bastard. I shake my head. "I mean, it's no problem. You rest."

Hopefully that didn't sound as lame out loud as it did in my head. This girl fucks with me more than I can stand. I mean I'm the motherfucking king of Chicago, and I'm trying not to upset my fucking baby-sitter. At this rate, I'll be passing out fucking sorry notes instead of bullets to the motherfuckers who try to cross me.

This is why. She is why. Easy pussy on a Friday night keeps your dick satisfied and your head in the game. Worrying over some sweet angel's delicate feelings gets you fucking dead. I need to leave her the fuck alone.

It only takes me searching in three cabinets to find some weird mini vacuum that I guess Mrs. Benson uses to clean in here. I plug in the cord and get a sick pleasure from the machine gun sound vibrating through the tubing like shrapnel flying through the plastic. So much more satisfying than the silencers we have to use most of the time. My trigger finger involuntarily curls.

Sometimes I miss the old days when I was the one running and gunning for my father. Now I'm sheltered from most of the real stuff. Haven't broken a jaw or snapped a neck in years. Which means I'm getting soft. Sitting on a throne makes you an easy target. Probably time to be out on the streets again. Put a bit of fear back into the motherfuckers who might think I'm getting complacent.

I turn the sweeper off and Eli's disappointed voice fills the air instead. "He won't go. He has to work. He always has to work."

Fucking motherfucker. He doesn't even want to ask because he already knows the answer. Fucking jaded at four years old.

"Well, we can tell him all about it when we get back. Maybe even bring him some cotton candy. He'll really love that surprise."

That's not the surprise from her that I'd love to receive, but I've got to stop thinking with my dick and take care of my brother. And make her stop having to fucking defend me. I shove the vacuum back into the little cleaning pantry and step into the kitchen. "Let me get in a quick run and then I'll be ready to go with you guys."

Eli's face lights up like fucking Christmas morning, and I fucking love it. "Really? You're going?"

"Of course. But I call dibs on the jaguar on the carousel."

Could I sound any more fucking lame? But the kid loves it.

His competitive streak kicks in, and he thumps his chest with two fingers before head bobbing me. "It's all mine."

A move so like me it almost shocks me. And scares the fuck out of me how much he looks up to me. Watching me enough to mimic me. I've got to step it up. I hold back my laugh at his tough ass attitude and wink at him instead. "We'll see."

Molly's giggle makes both of us turn to her. Oh fuck. She's got that weepy ass look on her face again. It's annoying and more gorgeous than hell. I tap my watch and point to each of them, both of them laughing now.

I jog out the back door. It's only a few hours. How bad could it be?