2. Evelyn
Chapter 2
Evelyn
I drifted in a cottony haze, vacillating between dull pain and weightless bliss. Every time the pain began to crest, warmth suffused my system, cocooning me in peace. Silver eyes filled my dreams, watching over me. Massimo’s deep voice rumbled through my disjointed thoughts, soothing me in low, steady streams of Italian. I couldn’t understand the words, but the cadence comforted me. His big hand was warm on mine, tethering me to him.
During short periods of lucidity, he filled my world, his comforting scent enfolding me.
“You need to eat, farfallina .” His strong arm wrapped around me, and my back was propped against his hard chest. I could feel his steady heartbeat, and mine matched it, beating in tandem.
His other hand lifted a chunk of melon to my lips, and I parted them to accept the sweet fruit. My eyelids were so heavy, so I allowed them to drift closed as I released a low hum of contentment. Dull pain still throbbed near my right hip, but I was in Massimo’s firm but careful embrace. I loved when he held me like this: like I was precious and delicate. A treasure to be cherished.
“Good girl,” he murmured as I ate from his hand. “You’re doing so well, dolcezza. ”
His praise warmed my chest, and I sank into him with a sigh. Nothing bad could touch me while Massimo held me. Even the pain ebbed, receding to a soft twinge.
I finished the meal with his low, coaxing words rumbling over me, and then I drifted down into sleep again.
His arms were around me, lifting me. I hissed a pained breath as the movement jarred my hip, and he shushed me gently. He cradled me against his chest and carried me, his steps steady and sure, careful not to jostle me.
The cool tub replaced the heat of his body, but his big hands didn’t stray from my skin. He maintained tender contact, stroking and reassuring. Warm water cascaded over my hair, the weight like a gentle massage that eased all tension from my muscles. I relaxed against the tub and tipped my head back, allowing the weight of it to fall into his hands as he lathered my hair with shampoo.
“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Let me take care of you.”
I obeyed, sinking into warm bliss as he rubbed my scalp in soothing circular motions. I trusted him completely, and I knew he would always care for me. I didn’t have to worry about anything as long as I was with him.
I stirred, stretching stiff muscles. Pain flared at my hip, a sharp twinge.
But Massimo was holding me, his arm draped around my shoulders and his hand skimming up and down my arm. I released a long breath, and the pain faded.
I blinked up at him, my mind clearer than it had been in…longer than I knew. I wasn’t aware of how long I’d been drifting in and out of consciousness.
The last thing I remembered before the hazy days was the violence that’d exploded through Stefano’s club. Massimo had raced toward me, his beautiful face a mask of primal fear.
But we weren’t in the club. I recognized the bedroom in the opulent suite where Massimo had been staying in Stefano’s high rise. We laid on the massive four poster bed where Massimo and I had joined in the most intimate way possible. I was safely cuddled against him. The room was still and quiet, with no sounds of gunfire or shouts of panic.
“What happened?” My voice came out slow and slightly slurred, my mind still a bit fuzzy.
Massimo’s jaw ticked, but his touch remained gentle. “You don’t need to worry about anything. Just rest.”
“But the fight at the club…” People had screamed as they died. Fear punched me, and I jolted in his arms. Ignoring the answering flare of pain, I asked, “Is Carmen okay?”
The cartel queen had been right beside me while the violence unfolded around us.
“Carmen is fine.” He reassured me, but his jaw remained hard as granite. “You need to stay calm. Don’t move.”
I relaxed against him, obeying without thought. “But what happened?” I asked again. “Was anyone hurt?” My eyes searched his, looking for signs of pain. If my dark savior had been injured…
“ You were hurt,” he almost growled. “You were shot, Evelyn.”
Lines of strain appeared around his flashing eyes, but the pain I saw in their depths was for what had happened to me. He hadn’t been hurt in the fight.
I breathed a small sigh of relief and trailed my fingers along his jaw to ease the tension away. His rough stubble had grown longer, almost a short beard.
“How long ago?” I asked quietly. My beautiful protector was uncharacteristically disheveled, his glossy black curls untidy, as though he’d run his hand through his hair many times. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, marring his golden skin.
“Ten days,” he replied in clipped tones. “I’ve been managing your pain, but I need you to stay still and focus on recovering. You don’t need to worry about anything. I’ll take care of you. Get some more sleep . I’ll be right here.”
I blinked. I’d been mostly unconscious for over a week, and Massimo had been taking care of me. He looked shattered.
“What about you?” I challenged quietly. “Have you slept?”
He turned his face into my hand and kissed my palm. “I’m fine, dolcezza. ”
I tipped my chin back. “I’ll sleep if you sleep.”
His eyes narrowed with displeasure, not caring for my defiance.
I caressed his cheek, tracing the bold lines of his masculine features until most of the tension melted away. I trailed my fingers through his hair, soothing him the way he’d comforted me.
He released a low sound, something between a hum of contentment and a groan of pain. His eyes closed, and his head dropped back against the pillow.
“ Farfallina… ” he murmured, an exhausted rebuke.
It was my turn to shush him. I was so tired too, drugs still swirling in my system.
I rested my cheek on his chest and relaxed against him. His breathing turned deep and even, and mine slowed to match. We both fell into a peaceful sleep.
The next week passed in a disjointed blur. Massimo insisted that I continue taking painkillers that made me drowsy, and I didn’t protest. He wanted me to heal quickly, and I had no reason to argue. The sooner I recovered, the sooner I could stay conscious long enough to have a real conversation with him.
As it was, I spent the days sleeping in his arms, eating from his hand, and being tenderly bathed by him. He saw to my every need, and my whole world centered on him. I was completely reliant on him, and I didn’t feel so much as a flicker of disquiet. Being with him felt right, despite my lingering pain. I’d never been cared for like this. No one in my family had taken much notice of me at all while I was growing up, and George had cruelly neglected my needs. He’d insisted that I bend over backward to please him, and nothing I did was ever enough. The point had always been to make me feel small and inadequate, to keep me desperately trying harder to make him happy.
I could see the years of abuse so clearly now that I’d experienced what life could be like with Massimo. He would do anything for me, and he asked for nothing in return. There were no guilt trips or bargaining. He gave me everything I could ever need or desire, and that seemed to make him happy.
I didn’t fully understand it—I still didn’t feel worthy of such treatment—but I was too addicted to him to question it too closely.
Later into my third week of recovery, Massimo asked me how I’d like to pass the time while I rested. I wanted to know more about him, so I asked what he usually did with his free time.
“I like to read,” he replied.
“Really?” I couldn’t quite hide my surprise. Massimo was a dangerous man, a man of action. I had a hard time picturing him quietly reading.
He nodded. “My parents wanted me to be educated. They thought that was how I would escape Le Vele one day. That dream was never realistic, but they instilled the value of learning in me from a young age. Even after they died, I didn’t leave that part of my childhood behind.” He absently tucked a stray lock of my hair behind my ear.
“Is that how you honor their memory?” I asked quietly. “By continuing to educate yourself?”
His full lips pressed to a thin line, and he took a moment to consider his answer. “You give me too much credit, dolcezza. There was nothing noble about it. Even though my parents were na?ve idealists, they were right about one thing: ignorance won’t get you very far in life. Gian and Enzo understand that too. When we met at the Camorra bar where we ended up living, we all agreed that we would get out of Le Vele. We would use every weapon at our disposal. I was a scrawny kid, and a sharp wit served me better than my fists at the time. My friends and I survived because we were smarter than the other boys. We read everything we could get our hands on.”
“What kind of books did you read?” I asked. “Was there a library or something in your neighborhood?”
He snorted his derision. “No, there wasn’t a library. We couldn’t afford physical books. My shitty old phone was filled with e-books I scoured from the internet. At first, I read up on fighting techniques, then military strategy. But on sleepless nights, I found escape in fiction.”
He said it like there had been many sleepless nights. Had he been haunted by nightmares of his parents’ murders all throughout his violent childhood?
My heart ached for him, and I tenderly caressed his cheek. He leaned into my gentle touch, as though he couldn’t help himself.
“What do you like to read now?” I pressed.
His long fingers trailed through my hair. “Before I came to Mexico City to make this deal with Duarte, I was reading a biography of the emperor Hadrian.”
“Do you have it with you?”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “I have the e-book on my phone. Why?”
“Will you read it to me?” My eyelids were feeling heavy again, and I was becoming more aware of the dull ache in my side.
“It’s in Italian,” he replied.
“I don’t mind,” I sighed, leaning into him. “I just want to hear your voice.”
He dropped a kiss on my forehead. “Anything for you, farfallina. ”
I closed my eyes and allowed his steady stream of rumbling Italian to roll over me, the cadence lilting and almost melodic. Despite the dark circumstances that’d brought me here, there was nowhere else I’d rather be.
“Can we watch something in Italian with English subtitles?” I asked when Massimo turned on the massive TV across from the bed.
“You don’t have to do that for me,” he replied. “I’m fully fluent in English.”
“I know,” I said before he could get offended. His English was impeccable. “But I want to learn Italian. I’m good with languages, and I can start picking it up if we put on the subtitles.”
His silver eyes shone as they studied my face. “You want to learn Italian?”
I smiled at him. “Yes. If I’m going to Italy with you, I need to speak the language.”
His expression shuttered. “I’ve been thinking about this.” The solemn heaviness in his tone made my stomach drop. “You were shot because I kept you here with the cartel. I didn’t keep you safe. You were hurt because of your association with me.”
My heart twisted, and I grasped his hand in a desperate grip. His words were laced with guilt and something I didn’t want to acknowledge. It sounded like a prelude to goodbye.
But I’d committed myself to staying with him before the firefight had broken out in Stefano’s club. And now that he’d cared for me so tenderly as I recovered over the last few weeks, I was more attached to my dark savior than ever.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I said firmly. “George dragged me into this world when he decided to be on the cartel’s payroll. He chose to work for Los Zetas. You saved me from them. And from him.”
He shook his head, glossy black curls swaying around his gorgeous face. “You said you wanted to go back home to Albuquerque. I refused to let you leave me. You were in the line of fire because of me.”
“No,” I insisted, clutching him more tightly so that he couldn’t put distance between us. “If I’m not with you, George will get to me. He’ll kill me to keep his corruption secret. You keep me safe, Massimo.”
His lips twisted with regret. “I won’t leave you unprotected in Mexico City. But if I send you back to the feds in America, he won’t be able to get to you. I was selfish and didn’t want to be parted from you, so I kept you.” His eyes were dark with pain. “Once you’re fully recovered, I’ll take you home.”
I squared my shoulders, harnessing my defiance to quell the pain in my heart. It wasn’t the sting of rejection; it was a keen, cutting sense of loss. I couldn’t lose Massimo. I wouldn’t allow him to send me away.
“You will take me home,” I said evenly. “To Italy. I want to stay with you, Massimo.”
He shook his head again, his features drawing harsh with determination. “That’s not your choice. I vowed to protect you, and that means sending you back to Albuquerque. I always keep my promises.”
“Then promise me that you won’t send me away,” I demanded. “Because I don’t want to go.” I tipped my chin back and allowed my stubborn gaze to clash with his. “Respect my choice, Massimo.”
His dark brows drew together. “I do respect you, Evelyn. But I won’t put you in danger. My life is dangerous. It always will be. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you because of me.” His cheeks colored with something like shame. “It already has happened. You were shot. I thought you were dying. I can’t lose you.”
I cupped his cheek. “The only way you’ll lose me is if you send me away.” I leaned in and brushed a kiss over his taut lips, reassuring him that I was alive and safe in his arms. “I’m right here,” I promised. “I’m okay.”
“You’re hurt,” he said gruffly.
“And you’re taking care of me,” I countered calmly.
“ Farfallina… ” His voice was rough with longing.
“No one has ever taken care of me,” I whispered. “I’ve never let anyone. But I trust you, Massimo. Don’t make me go. Please.”
He released low sound like a pained groan, and his lips were drawn to mine as though by a magnet. He kissed me like I was made of glass, careful not to jar my injury. I longed for him to sweep me up in a savage kiss and claim me ruthlessly, but I knew I had to recover first. Soon enough, I’d feel him inside me, joining us in the most intimate way possible. Because Massimo wasn’t capable of letting me go any more than I was able to leave him. I wasn’t sure if I would survive separation, and not just because George still posed a threat to my life. If I lost Massimo, my heart would shatter.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured against my lips. “My sweet Evelyn.”
“Does this mean you’ll teach me Italian?” I asked breathlessly, desperate for his reply.
“Anything for you, dolcezza ,” he vowed. “I’ll make sure you feel at home in Naples. I’ll show you the kind of life I can provide for you. You will have everything you could ever desire.”
I think I already do. I kept the admission locked deep in my chest, afraid that if I declared the intensity of my feelings for him out loud, he might pull away from me again.
No one had ever cared for me like Massimo did. It wasn’t the fine gowns or diamonds that made me enamored with him; it was the safety I felt in his strong arms. I could lean on him—I could be vulnerable—and he would never betray my trust in him. It was more than I’d ever dared to dream of.
I sighed and melted against him, conveying everything I couldn’t say in an achingly tender kiss.