6. Evelyn
Chapter 6
Evelyn
I leaned into Massimo with a happy sigh, content despite the fact that I was entering the unknown. The slight soreness between my legs elicited a warm glow in my chest; it was a sweet reminder that he’d finally claimed me for the first time since I’d been shot. My memories of sex on the plane were hazy, but the pleasure I’d experienced lingered.
I should probably be troubled by the fact that I’d gotten off on being taken while I was half-conscious, but I didn’t experience so much as a shadow of shame over what I shared with Massimo. No matter how perverted his games could become, nothing had ever felt more natural than being safe in his masterful hands.
“We’re home,” Massimo announced when the car stopped in front of a gorgeous, pale yellow building with white balconies. Luxury shops lined the street on the ground floor, but the five stories above were obviously apartments. Pedestrians strolled along the sidewalk, skirting around diners seated at an outdoor café on the corner.
I’d dreamed of visiting Italy for years, and this neighborhood was exactly as I’d imagined it.
Home. I would live here with Massimo. This was my life now, my future. And I would share it with him.
It seemed too wonderful to be real, so much more beautiful and romantic than the mundane future I’d imagined back in Albuquerque when I’d been engaged to George. That life had been one of duty and desperation to please a man who would never be satisfied with me.
Massimo promised me affection, stability, and the opportunity to explore my art. Already, my fingers itched for the camera he’d gifted me, eager to capture images of my new home.
He opened the door of the SUV and helped me step out onto the sidewalk in front of the beautiful yellow building. His strong arm closed around my waist, and he guided me to the intricately carved wooden double doors. He waved a key fob in front of a security pad, and a lock disengaged. He entered with a smooth turn of the large brass knob that decorated the door, welcoming me inside with him.
We crossed a cavernous foyer to a black cage elevator that looked old enough to give me pause. He urged me toward it.
“It’s perfectly safe, and we’re on the top floor. I don’t want you taking the stairs yet.”
I complied without protest, even though I felt fit enough for the stairs. I’d barely moved for long weeks, so I should work out to build my strength and stamina. It was a hot, sunny day, and although the foyer was cooler than outside, I would probably work up a sweat by the time I climbed to the top floor.
Despite its aged appearance, the elevator glided upward without rattling, and I breathed a small sigh of relief. His arm firmed around me in reassurance, and I rested my head on his shoulder as we ascended.
When we reached the top floor, he unlocked the apartment door, picked me up, and carried me over the threshold. A delighted giggle burst from my chest as he spun me in a circle, giving me a dizzying first look at the opulent space we would share.
Cream colored walls with intricate crown molding were decorated with abstract paintings in bold, bright pops of color. We were in a short entrance hall, but he quickly walked deeper into the apartment, eager to show me more.
Sunlight peeked through heavy, rich yellow drapes that covered enormous windows that lined one side of the living room. A glimpse through a doorway on our left showed a hint of a thoroughly modern kitchen, and to my right, I noted a large dining room. All of the furniture appeared to be a blend of cushy comfort but with antique accents: dark carved wood and cream damask upholstery.
He set me down on my feet, but he didn’t break contact, taking my hand in his to lead me toward one of the massive windows.
He pulled the drapes back, revealing a glass door that opened out onto a small balcony with a white-painted wooden rail. Delicate garden furniture crafted in wrought iron provided intimate seating and a small dining table.
My breath caught at the stunning view out to the azure sea. The harbor was dotted with sailboats and a handful of yachts, bright spots of white on the gently rolling waves. The coastline curved, showcasing pastel buildings that trailed off into the distance. Miles away, Mount Vesuvius dominated the skyline, deep blue peaks a few shades darker than the sea at the horizon.
Massimo’s big hands bracketed my waist from behind, and his lips teased the shell of my ear. “Do you like it?”
I turned to him, my eyes stinging with the depth of my emotion. “It’s perfect.” My voice wavered slightly. “More beautiful than anything I could’ve ever imagined.”
I looked deep into his shining silver eyes as I spoke, my words encompassing so much more than the stunning scenery and opulent apartment.
He caressed my cheek. “You deserve so much more, farfallina. It’s only one bedroom, so we will buy somewhere bigger soon. I’ll show you around Naples, and we’ll find the perfect home for us. This should be comfortable enough for now.”
“I love it,” I said with the weight of a promise. “I’m so happy to be here with you, Massimo.” My throat tightened, squeezing the words I wasn’t sure I was ready to say.
I loved this beautiful, damaged, dangerous man.
Before I could muster up the courage to declare my feelings, a doorbell rang, breaking the intimate moment.
Massimo dropped a kiss on my forehead and went inside to meet his guest. I trailed after him, slight anxiety nipping at me. I didn’t know anyone in Naples, and Massimo’s friends would likely be associated with the Camorra.
I took a quick breath and reminded myself of all the times he’d protected me, putting his own life on the line. He would never introduce me to someone who might pose a threat.
He opened the apartment door, and two men stepped into the living room. I recognized them as Massimo’s friends who had been in Mexico City when I’d first met him. They’d been in Duarte’s building on the night I’d run away from George and Los Zetas.
Massimo returned to me and took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze in a pulse of support.
“Evelyn, these are my friends, Gian and Enzo Franco.”
He gestured at the men in turn, indicating that Gian was the one with the military-short haircut and shrewd light in his dark green eyes. Enzo’s eyes were the exact same shade, but his square jaw was stubble-shaded, and his dark hair fell around his chiseled features to frame his harshly masculine face. A hint of a scar was visible at his right cheekbone, but it did nothing to diminish his ruggedly attractive demeanor. The two men were identically broad and tall, but not quite as big as Massimo. They were dressed in sharply tailored pants and button-down shirts. Enzo was in all black with his sleeves rolled up casually, a contrast to Gian’s crisp white shirt and rigid bearing.
Gian nodded at me. “It’s good to meet you properly. Massimo has been hiding you away from us.” His voice was warm and charming despite his harsh appearance. He offered me a dazzling grin, and it almost reached his keen eyes.
He was assessing me, passing judgment. I lifted my chin and met his sharp stare with a bland smile of my own.
“Massimo has been taking care of me in Mexico City,” I corrected him. “But I’m very happy to be here with him now.”
Enzo didn’t bother with charm. He cocked his head at me, his assessment more blatant than his brother’s.
Massimo lifted my hand and brushed a kiss over my knuckles. “It’s good to be home.”
Warmth suffused my cheeks, my body just as responsive to his touch as it had been on the night we’d first met.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked his friends. “I was about to open a bottle of Champagne.”
Gian shook his head. “We need to meet with the boss. He wants to talk to you about our new friendship with Duarte and Rodríguez. You’ve been gone longer than we anticipated.”
He’d been delayed in his return because I’d been shot, and he’d chosen to stay in Mexico until I was fully recovered.
“I want to get Evelyn settled,” Massimo said, his thumb caressing my palm.
“I’m afraid this can’t wait,” Gian countered. “You know Salerno isn’t a patient man.”
“I’ll stay here with Evelyn,” Enzo offered, his face still impassive. “We can get acquainted.”
Anxiety fluttered in my belly, but I smiled up at Massimo, reassuring him. “Go on. I’ll be fine here.”
“I wanted to show you around the neighborhood,” he said, his tone low with regret.
“There will be plenty of time for that later,” I said firmly. I didn’t want him getting into trouble with his boss because of me. He’d already given me so much. I could overcome my nervousness and spend time with his friend while he saw to his business.
I went up onto my toes and kissed him, a quick but fierce goodbye. “I’ll be right here, waiting for you to come home.”
His eyes sparked with pale blue fire, an all-consuming hunger that was mirrored in my own soul.
“I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.”
Massimo always kept his promises. I pressed one final kiss to his lips and urged him to go with Gian.
They left together, and a beat of awkward silence passed between Enzo and me.
“Would you like some of that Champagne Massimo mentioned?” he asked.
“No, thank you.” I didn’t need to get tipsy; I wanted to keep my wits about me so that I could navigate a conversation with a clearly dangerous man.
I’d grown accustomed to Massimo’s aura of danger, but I’d never been fully at ease around his criminal associates. I’d never gotten used to Stefano Duarte’s fearsome, mercurial demeanor. Enzo didn’t seem maniacal like the Mexican drug lord, but he was a stranger to me. I would be a fool to let my guard down.
He brushed past me, walking into the kitchen as though he was in his own home. “Let’s see what’s in the fridge.”
I followed him, taking in the modern, high-end appliances and marble topped kitchen island while keeping most of my focus on him.
“San Pellegrino?” he suggested as he surveyed the contents of the refrigerator.
“That sounds great. Thanks.”
It was a bit bizarre and slightly surreal that a mafioso was offering me a drink in the apartment that was now my own home. I felt off balance and out of place without Massimo’s reassuring presence, but I squared my shoulders, determined to navigate this strange, unfamiliar situation.
He passed me a frosted can of lemon San Pellegrino and kept a second one for himself.
“Why don’t we sit out on the balcony?” I offered, deciding to play the part of hostess. This was my home, and he was my guest. He was one of Massimo’s closest friends, so that meant he would be my friend too.
We settled into the surprisingly comfortable cushioned chairs on the balcony and sat in silence for a minute. Some of my anxious tension melted as I took in the stunning view once again, marveling that this would be my life now. I longed for my camera, but it was still packed away with my clothes. Unable to resist, I lifted my new phone and snapped a shot of the beautiful vista.
“The lifestyle the Camorra affords must be worth it,” Enzo drawled, dragging my attention back to him. His forest green eyes were keen on my face, his head canted to the side as he studied me.
“What do you mean?” Some of my tension gripped my chest again at the mention of his criminal organization, but I would become accustomed to it. For Massimo, I would accept this darker aspect of his life.
Enzo gestured around us, encompassing the lavish apartment and the sea view. “All of this is yours now. Beats a DEA agent’s meager salary.”
I sat up straighter, my spine stiffening at the mention of George. I didn’t like his implication.
“I’m not with Massimo for his money.” I managed to keep my voice cool and firm, hiding my spike of indignation.
He directed a pointed glance at my neck. “Those diamonds say otherwise.”
I met his challenging stare head-on. “I tried to refuse the diamonds and the fancy clothes. The expense made me uncomfortable, but giving me these things makes Massimo happy. That’s what matters to me. He told me that he grew up with nothing, and he’s sacrificed so much in order to survive. His money makes him feel secure after years of deprivation. If seeing that wealth reflected on me gives him satisfaction, I won’t deny him.”
Enzo rested a corded forearm on the small table, leaning toward me as his gaze sharpened to something even more incisive. “I doubt the money made it difficult for you to leave your fiancé behind.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, irritation and defensiveness getting the better of me. “You don’t know anything about my relationship with George. Massimo saved me from him, and I will always be grateful for that.”
“You mean he saved you from Los Zetas. ” Enzo tried to correct me. “My best friend jumped in front of a bullet for you. How do I know you won’t discard him as easily as you left your fiancé?”
My cheeks heated with righteous anger. “I meant exactly what I said: Massimo saved me from George. I will never leave him.”
Enzo’s eyes darkened, and his mouth thinned to a harsh slash, as though he’d bitten into something sour. “Crawford abused you.”
It wasn’t a question.
Judging by his thunderous expression, Enzo didn’t like it any more than Massimo did. It seemed they shared similar moral compasses; neither of them approved of innocent people being hurt.
It shouldn’t surprise me, given their shared history and the way Massimo talked about his friends, as though they were his own brothers. My dark savior would never have such a strong bond with cruel, callous men.
I softened toward Enzo, uncrossing my arms and leaning toward him so that he could read my sincerity plainly on my face.
“I will never do anything to hurt Massimo,” I vowed.
I love him. I barely held the words in. I hadn’t said them to Massimo yet, and it didn’t feel right to tell his friend first.
“I appreciate that you feel protective of him,” I continued, “but so do I. He’s risked his life for me. I would do anything for him.”
Enzo nodded. “He told me that you were shot.”
“You’re giving me too much credit,” I replied. “I was collateral damage when Duarte’s cartel was attacked. I couldn’t get to Massimo before I was shot.”
“But you’re choosing to be with him despite what happened to you. And it’s not about his money.”
I lifted my chin. “I won’t leave him. I don’t think I’m capable of it.”
I gave him raw honesty. Massimo’s friend had to understand that I truly wanted to share my life with my dark protector, and that meant Enzo’s opinion mattered to me.
He lifted his drink, tipping it in my direction in a small toast. “Welcome to the family, Evelyn.”
My chest warmed at his acceptance. He’d interrogated me to make sure my intentions were pure. I’d never trusted in a friend who had my back like that. Maybe one day, I would earn Enzo’s friendship too.
“ Grazie ,” I replied in Italian.
A small smile played around his mouth. “Do you speak Italian?”
“I’m learning,” I admitted. “It would help if I practice.”
“Then we’ll practice,” he encouraged. “Tell me what you want to see most now that you’re in Naples.”
I switched into Italian, haltingly telling him how I’d always wanted to visit the Amalfi Coast and Capri. I shared my passion for photography and how Massimo had sweetly gifted me with a camera. He believed in my art, and I wanted Enzo to know how much that meant to me.
As we spoke, his handsome features lit up in a bright grin, transforming his demeanor from the forbidding mask to an expression of genuine approval.
My heart soared with hope for my happy future and appreciation for my new home.