How Billy Russo, ex-Scout Sniper, accomplished security contractor, CEO of a business that dealt exclusively in violent situations, and former Marine with 134 confirmed kills ended up with the human embodiment of sunshine was beyond him.
Yet here he was.
He watched you from his crow's nest above the main floor of Anvil, hands in his pockets. You didn't walk so much as bounce, your body too full of sunshine and butterflies and whatever the fuck else to walk straight. He couldn't help but smile as he saw you...you just made him happy. Your happiness was contagious. You were holding a big pink box that Billy knew contained his lunch, and he watched you chat with his secretary. Ever the beacon of friendliness, your presence soon attracted Curtis, two trainers, and three of his regular staff, and four trainees. Billy watched you talk, eyes following every turn of your head and drinking in your bright smile. He had no idea how he got a woman like you, but he was damn glad he had you.
"When'd the Princess get here?" Frank asked, coming to stand beside Billy.
Billy chuckled. Frank started calling you 'Princess' the day he'd met you. You'd been wearing a pink dress and a tiara because you'd just come from reading to your nephew's 3rd grade class, and you practically floated when you walked. You had greeted Frank—who'd had his hand out to say hello—with a warm hug, and subsequently won his affection and admiration. He called you Princess ever since. "Just now," Billy answered, "We have a lunch date."
"You guys are doing a lot of lunch dates these days," Frank grinned, "Things are getting pretty serious between the two of you, huh?"
"Yeah, they are." Billy couldn't take his eyes off you. You were such a source of warmth, people who Billy had worked with for years and barely ever spoke to made it a point to stop what they were doing and say hello to you. You made everyone feel welcome and appreciated, it was effortless—you were just like that, just so...lovable.
Billy went down and took you away from your adoring crowd, needing some alone time with his girl. He watched you bounce up the stairs and into his office, kissing you once the door was closed and he had you all to himself.
"I think half my office is in love with you," he said against your lips.
He felt your smile against his mouth. "Not the half that matters," you said back.
Billy wanted to ask what you meant by that, but you started taking out the homemade lunch you'd made him, and he got distracted. After you had eaten, you somehow ended up on Billy's lap. He, of course, just couldn't resist how cute you were, and the next thing he knew, he had you bent over his desk and had his pants around his ankles. He decided he'd ask you about that comment you'd made later.
Five days later, Billy had a night off and decided to take his girl on a date. Nothing fancy; he picked you up and took you to dinner and a Broadway show. He was able to get backstage passes (he'd done some security work for the lead actress and the director before), so you spent the rest of the evening talking with the cast. They were all so enamored with you that they ended up inviting you both to their exclusive one-night performance where they'd do songs that had originally been cut, and Billy was sure you'd float into the night sky with how happy that had made you. He held your hand, so small and warm in his own, as you walked back to his car. You were talking a mile a minute, going over your favorite parts of the show and gushing over the performances, and Billy listened intently. He was so interested in what you were saying, that he almost missed the five men approaching.
Almost.
Billy didn't even have a second to speak before he saw one of the men take out a crowbar and raise it in the air. He pushed you out of the way and sidestepped the blow, punching the man in the stomach as he did so. "Y/N," he called out, trying to keep an eye on the other four assailants, "Get to the car!" He blocked a blow from another one of the guys, grabbing his wrist and taking his weapon from him. Billy used the stolen weapon to hit the first guy again, making sure he stayed down. He glanced back up, expecting to see your back as you ran—or bounced—to the car, but instead what he saw was his girlfriend, his sweet, bubbly ray of sunshine, flip a man half her size and punch another man square in the jaw with so much force, he knocked out cold. "Oh," Billy said, stopping in his tracks, "shit."
You spun around, as graceful as a dancer, and slammed your elbow into one of the men's faces, breaking his nose without a second's pause. The three remaining man all turned towards you, and Billy stepped back and watched. You clearly knew what you were doing. You kicked the first one, making him fall to his knees, and stepped over him. Billy watched, appreciating your form, instinct, and quick reflexes, as you took the other two men down, keeping the first one on the ground and unable to interject. He recognized your moves; they were the same moves he'd learned in basic training. You were a fucking Marine.
You were fucking incredible.
Billy leaned against the wall and put his hands in his pockets, completely at ease as his girlfriend beat four (the one Billy had knocked out was still unconscious on the ground) grown men up. You straightened up as the last one hit the floor, breathing heavily, and turned to Billy. Your bright eyes were wild, and he could practically hear your heart pounding, that's how loud it was. The adrenaline was coursing through your body—Billy's too—and you stared over at him.
"I... I was going to tell you," you said, your voice nervous, "I just didn't know how. I, um, I'm a former Marine, Private First Class. Spent most of my time on ships, but I did a tour in Iraq, I..." You looked down at the bodies surrounding you before looking back at Billy. Your pretty eyes were wide and sorrowful, and you shook your head, sure that you'd lost Billy forever. No man liked to be emasculated like that, and even more so, no man wanted to find out his girlfriend was a trained fighter by seeing her fight. You should have told him. You should have been honest with him and accepted whatever his reaction was. You stared over at Billy, watching him watch you, and had only one last thing to say. "I'm sorry."
Billy had something to say, too. "I love you."
Your mouth fell open. Of all the things you thought Billy might say, that was not it. But you always spoke from the heart, and now was no exception. "I love you, too, Billy."
Grinning, he walked over to you, stepping over the unconscious bodies without even sparing them a second glance. He put his hands on either side of your face and pulled you in for a kiss. He was still smiling when he pulled back. "Watching you beat those guys' asses was hot as hell. Let's go home and show each other how much we love each other, huh?"
You smiled back, nodding excitedly. "That sounds good."
"I've never slept with a Marine before," Billy said, hands on your waist, "Looking forward to it."
You laughed, that loud, full, happy laugh that warmed Billy to the core, and kissed him again. You spoke against his lips. "Semper fi," you said, kissing him one more time.
He grinned. "Semper fi."
