Before the Storm: A Dark Mafia Romance (Frost Industries Book 4)

Days bleed into a week, and then two, but Storm doesn’t touch me. True to his word, he sleeps on the other side of the bed, but he never reaches for me. The kiss we shared the night I tried to escape is the only one we’ve shared.

And yet I imagine this is what being in a relationship feels like. He brings me gifts and asks how my day was. He got all my classes moved online so I can still study, and he makes sure I have everything I could possibly need, including a brand-new laptop that must have cost an arm and a leg with the number of fancy programs that are installed.

But he hasn’t touched me, and honestly, it’s starting to make me question everything…again. It never made sense to me that Storm would want me, but then he kissed me like he needed me just to keep breathing, only for him to flip to whatever the hell he is now.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice having a man look after me the way he is, especially considering the way I grew up, but I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. At some point, he’s going to get sick of having a house guest who isn’t giving him anything while he gives me the world, and I don’t know what to expect when that inevitably happens.

I groan and lean my head back against the leather chair. My laptop is open on my lap, but I’m struggling to focus on anything today. I always get like this around my time of month, the brain fog is so thick some days I can barely function let alone study. A cramp grabs hold in my lower belly and I hiss out a breath. Maybe that’s enough studying for today.

I place my laptop on the table beside me and push myself from the seat carefully. Thankfully my ankle is almost back to one hundred percent, but if I put pressure on it in an odd position there’s still some pain.

I’m halfway across the room when another cramp hits me out of nowhere and takes my breath away. I fold myself in half, gripping my lower belly as if it’s going to do anything to help matters. I’ll have to see if there’s a heat bag around here somewhere, that usually helps a little.

“Ayvah?” Storm rumbles, his deep voice taking me off guard.

I try to look up at him but another cramp grabs, this one bringing tears to my eyes. Jesus Christ, is my uterus trying to make an escape?

A moment later, strong hands grip my shoulders, holding me steady when my legs threaten to buckle. “Are you sick? Should I call Doc?” The worry in his voice does something to my heart and I swear it skips several beats.

“No,” I groan. “I don’t need a doctor.”

Silence greets me and when I look up at Storm his eyes are assessing me, his brow pinched as he tries to work out how I’ve hurt myself in the hours since he left the bedroom this morning. Without another word, he lifts me from where I’m standing and carefully lays me down on the bed. “You don’t look so good.”

“Wow, thanks,” I say dryly.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” He rolls his eyes. “Now, tell me what’s going on? Why do you look like you’re about to cry?” The confusion and concern etched into his features makes me want to reach for him, to comfort him despite me being the one in pain.

“It’s nothing,” I groan, my hands resting on my lower belly in the hope it’ll do something, anything, to relieve the pain seeing as the aspirin I took an hour ago failed to do a thing.

“It doesn’t look like nothing. I’m calling Doc.”

“No!” I almost shout and his eyes widen with surprise at the outburst. “I don’t need a doctor, I just need a hot pad and some rest.”

“A hot pad?” he repeats.

“Yes. A hot pad.” What about this is he not getting?

He nods once and turns on his heel, leaving me laying in the middle of the bed looking after him. What the hell was that? And why do I get the impression Storm has never looked after another human being until I came along? The idea both makes me chuckle to myself and my heart speeds up that I’m somehow special to him. That’s ridiculous of course because why would I be special to a man like him? But try telling my ever-hopeful heart that.

A few minutes pass and he reappears in the doorway, his phone in one hand, and a hot water bottle in the other. His brow furrows as he reads something on the screen and crosses to where I’m laying before carefully placing the bottle across where my hands are holding. The relief is almost immediate and I can’t help but let out a sigh as the warmth spreads into my tight muscles.

“Do you have your period?” Storm asks without tearing his eyes from the screen.

My mouth pops open in shock and my cheeks heat. This is not a conversation I want to have with a mafia boss. Not today, not ever.

“I called Snow to find out if we have a heat bag here, but we only have the hot water bottle. Google says that should still be okay. She asked if you had cramps. Is that what’s wrong? Do you have cramps?”

I open my mouth to reply, but no words come out. I think he’s shocked them away.

“Have you had some painkillers?” He pulls a packet from his pocket and places it on the bedside table. “It says here a bath might help. Do you want me to run you one?”

I stare at him for long moments, trying to find the words, any words, to reply to him. But when one of the most ruthless men in the country starts talking about your period and running you a bath, I’m not sure what an appropriate response looks like. Is there one? Surely there isn’t.

“I’m going to run you a bath.” He nods once, places his phone in his pocket and wanders off in the direction of the bathroom.

What the fuck just happened?

The sound of running water fills the room and I shake my head. A bath does sound nice, and I’ve never had anyone look after me through my cramps before, it’s kind of nice to have someone care for once. Usually I’m left to my own devices and ridiculed if I so much as flinch at the pain. I guess that’s what I get for being the only woman in the family who doesn’t have easy periods.

Storm makes his way across the room, his eyes glued to his phone once again as if it holds all the answers. I assume he’s working. He usually is when he’s spending time with me, even if he tries to switch off his phone is constantly going off. I’m glad there aren’t that many people contacting me every minute of every day. I don’t know how he does it.

When he reaches the edge of the bed, he finally drags his attention from the phone and it lands on me. He gives my body a once over before nodding and making his way into the walk-in closet and returning a few moments later with a pair of tracksuit pants and a hoodie, neither of which appear to be women’s. He catches me looking at the clothes and he gives me a gentle smile. “It says here loose, unrestrictive clothing is best.” He nods to his phone and places the clothes at the end of the bed.

So he’s not working. He’s googling periods. Fantastic.

He looks over his shoulder at the bathroom and then back at me, before placing his phone on the bedside table beside the painkillers he brought in for me. “Do you usually crave chocolate? The article said some women crave sweet food. I don’t think we have any at the moment but I can have one of my sisters bring some things around if you want?”

“I don’t crave chocolate,” I whisper because I sure as hell don’t trust my voice not to break under the pressure. Part of me wonders idly whether I’m dreaming, but then another cramp hits and my entire stomach spasms under the strength of it. Definitely not dreaming.

“Are your cramps usually this bad? Are you sure I don’t need to get Doc to come and have a look? Or a specialist, perhaps? Snow said she knows some good ones.”

I breathe out a breath, forcing myself to calm under the mortification that washes over me with every second he keeps talking about periods. “This is normal. I’ll be fine tomorrow. It’s usually just a few hours and then smooth sailing.” There, that was easy.

Storm considers me for long moments before scooping me up from the bed and carrying me through to the bathroom. He places me on the edge of the vanity and bends over to test the water temperature before making a pleased noise. I guess it’s up to his standards, whatever they may be. The room smells fresh and fragrant, and when Storm notices me trying to place the scent, he smiles. “Snow said this bath salt shit used to help her.”

“Thank you for doing all this, Storm, but I’ve been doing this for a long time. All I need is to sleep and I’ll wake up okay in the morning.”

He sighs and takes long strides until he’s wedged himself between my legs. The position is intimate, but even more so when his huge hands envelop my cheeks, forcing me to look into his gray eyes. “Just because you’ve always taken care of these things alone doesn’t mean you have to anymore. You’re hurting. You’re in pain. I don’t like that. I don’t like seeing you anything other than happy, so I’m going to do everything I can to help. Okay?”

I find myself nodding without thinking it through first. Can I really allow him to look after me through my period? Aren’t men meant to be repulsed by the sound of the word, let alone the thought of what’s happening to the woman they’re with? But Storm seems anything but repulsed. He seems worried, and how can I deny his help when he’s only trying to take care of me? It’s not like I expected him to be clueless about how the female body works, especially when I found tampons in the cupboard this morning when I was panicking and looking for them. I just never expected him to want to be… involved, for lack of a better word.

Storm assesses me for a moment before determination creeps into his features. His hands move from where they were cupping my cheeks to the bottom of my sweater and a moment later he’s tugging it over my head. Perhaps I would question him if I wasn’t so shocked when he pulls my camisole over my head a second later and starts tugging at my socks.

“Uh, Storm?”

“Yes, baby girl?”

“I thought you were just running me a bath.”

“I am.” He carefully lifts me from the vanity for long enough to tug my yoga pants past my ass before propping me back up. He pulls the pants from each leg before looking back over his shoulder at the almost full tub.

“But you’re staying.”

“Yes.” He nods.

I suck in a breath as my reality finally settles over me. Storm is about to see me naked. And not just the normal, slightly overweight, rolls and all me, but also adding in the painful bloating from my period. Wonderful.

If I wasn’t certain Storm Saint James was going to leave the moment he saw me naked, I sure as hell am now.