Chapter 24 Elena #2
He lifts his head just enough to meet my eyes.
Then he nods once and straightens enough to shrug out of his shirt.
When he kisses me, it isn’t with the same desperation I’m used to from all the other times we’ve collided.
This reverence feels more like a promise of devotion rather than a claim of ownership.
His hand cradles the side of my face while the other braces carefully beside my head, making sure not to jar my injury when he settles himself between my legs.
Every movement is protective, as though I’m something fragile he refuses to break again. When I’m finally naked beneath him, he sheds the rest of his own clothes until there’s nothing left between us. He keeps most of his weight on his forearms, careful of my injury.
The head of his cock presses gently against my entrance. He holds himself there, barely breaching me, letting me feel the heat of him. His forehead drops to mine again, his breathing more ragged than before, like he’s fighting every instinct that wants to thrust in hard and claim me.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says.
I lift my hips the smallest amount, just enough to take the very tip of him inside me. The stretch is slow, but it still steals my breath. Not from any kind of pain, but from the tenderness of it. From the way he freezes the instant I gasp.
“I’m okay,” I breathe out slowly. “Keep going. Please.”
He exhales against my mouth and sinks in another careful inch.
When he’s finally seated fully inside me, deep enough that I can feel him stretching my walls perfectly, he stops again.
His arms tremble from holding himself so rigidly above me.
His eyes are squeezed shut, his jaw clenched like the effort of not moving is physically painful.
“Look at me,” I say.
His lashes lift. The raw need in his gaze nearly undoes me.
“I love you,” I tell him.
His throat works. “I love you too. More than anything.”
Then he starts to move, so slow, it’s almost torture, long, careful rolls of his hips that drag his cock almost all the way out before sliding back in again.
Each thrust feels like worship. He keeps his eyes on mine the entire time, watching for any flicker of discomfort, ready to stop the second I ask.
I wrap my arms around his neck to pull him down until his mouth finds mine again.
The kiss is messy now, quiet moans swallowed between us with each brush of our tongues together.
My hips rise up to meet his. The angle is so damn perfect, every careful glide of his cock hitting that sensitive spot inside me, making light burst behind my eyelids.
He groans low in his throat when I tighten around him. “Elena…”
I rock up harder, chasing the pleasure. “Don’t stop.”
He doesn’t.
My fingers dig into his shoulders. My breath comes in short, sharp gasps against his lips. When the pleasure starts to coil tightly in my belly, he shifts just enough to change the angle, the next thrust sending sparks racing up my spine.
I cry out softly, muffled against his mouth.
“There?” he asks gruffly.
“Yes, God, yes—” I choke on a gasp.
He stays right there, grinding now instead of thrusting, letting the pressure build and build until my thighs tremble and my toes curl tightly.
“Come for me,” he whispers against my ear. “Let me feel you.”
I shatter around him with a broken sob, clenching tight around him. He groans my name like a prayer, hips stuttering once, twice, then he buries himself deep inside me. He comes with a jolt, his forehead dropping to my shoulder as a moan escapes past his lips.
His lips brush my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth, soft, endless kisses that make the corners of my eyes burn.
Eventually, he carefully eases out of me, wincing when I make a small sound at the loss.
He reaches for the duvet folded at the foot of the bed and drapes it over us both, then settles beside me.
“Sleep,” he murmurs against my hair. “I’ve got you.”
I believe him.
For the first time in years, I close my eyes and let myself drift, safe in the circle of his arms listening to the steady sounds of his breathing.
Even though I plan to run, a stupid, stubborn part of me still hopes he’ll give me a reason to stay.
When I wake again, the room is brighter.
Mid-morning light spills across the floor in warm rays, climbing slowly up the side of the bed and over the duvet covering me. For a few disoriented seconds, I don’t remember where I am. My body feels heavy, my side throbbing in a dull, distant way that reminds me I’m still healing.
Then my memory settles back into place.
My hand drifts across the sheets automatically, searching for him, finding them cool to the touch. He must have left a while ago. A small, childish disappointment pricks at me before I can stop it. I swallow it down. Of course he left. He has a syndicate to run. Enemies to eliminate.
Getting out of bed is a chore. My muscles protest as my side pulls sharply when I swing my legs over the edge of the mattress. The world tilts for a second and I pause, breathing through it before pushing myself upright.
The bathroom feels miles away.
Somehow, I make it there anyway.
The shower exhausts me more than I expect it to. Steam curls around me while warm water eases some of the tension locked between my shoulder blades. For a brief moment, I let myself stand under the spray and pretend this is just another ordinary morning.
When I step out, toweling off slowly, my limbs feel like they belong to someone else.
I’m grateful Dante’s nurses have decided to leave me alone for now.
I can only take so much fussing, so many sympathetic looks.
My mind is too loud with too many racing thoughts to be courteous while I’m poked and prodded at.
By the time I pull on a soft robe and tie it carefully at my waist, exhaustion sinks into my bones again.
I find the medical suite empty with no sign of Luca anywhere. Though normally that would panic me, with Dante missing too, I can only assume he woke him up and brought our son down to breakfast, leaving me to sleep in.
The gesture tugs at my chest. It’s such a small thing but one that shows me that despite the way Luca came into his life, Dante still cares deeply about him.
I shut the door behind me and head over to the dresser next to the bed. Nicolo’s card is tucked at the very back of the top drawer. It’s plain and unassuming, no logo depicting his title or his name. It’s just a phone number typed out in a plain font on a neutral background.
I suppose that’s fitting for a man who disappears people for a living. The more unremarkable he appears, the easier his job must be.
My hands shake so badly while entering the number into my phone that I nearly drop it. I steady myself against the dresser, inhaling slowly before pressing Call.
Nicolo answers on the second ring. “Hello, Elena.”
I bite my tongue, resisting the urge to ask him how he knows it’s me. It doesn’t really matter at this point. “I’ve made a decision about your, um… offer. I’d like to take you up on it.”
“Excellent. We’ll get started, then.” The sound of rustling on the other end catches my attention.
When he speaks again, what little bit of friendliness he had in his voice is gone, a far more serious tone replacing it.
“When you go for your check-up on Friday, there will be a car waiting at the loading dock behind the ER. I’ll have a distraction set up for Dante, giving you an opening to leave through the east corridor.
You’ll have papers, passports, cash, along with two carry-on bags for the flight sitting on the back seat. You’ll be on a plane within the hour.”
I chew on my lip. “Okay.”
“I’ll be there to see you off, so don’t worry. You won’t be doing this alone. I’ll be with you throughout the process until we get you settled into your new life.”
I swallow thickly.
Am I really doing this? Am I really going to disappear myself from everyone’s, even Dante’s, life completely?
My gaze drifts toward the terrace doors. Beyond them, the sea stretches, wide and endless. The waves crash soundlessly against the cliffside.
Never seeing that view again hurts more than I expected. Luca never growing up here hurts too. But what’s the alternative? Waiting around like targets, hoping the Bellantis grow bored and move on to someone else? Hoping Dante can extinguish every threat before one slips through the cracks again?
A headache blooms behind my left eye.
God, I hate this.
I hate having to uproot Luca’s life again for the same reason I did before. The only difference now is I’m doing it without my father.
The sudden realization nearly steals the air from my lungs.
My father.
If I disappear… he’ll never find me.
Well, if he ever comes out of hiding. With Enzo officially gone, word of it will eventually reach him at some point. Weeks, if not months from now. But is my son’s safety worth waiting around for that? Is his safety worth trusting Dante’s ability to take down the Bellantis?
I don’t know. I really, really don’t know anymore.
“Elena?” Nicolo prompts.
I press the heel of my hand into my temple, trying to ease the ache. “Yes, sorry. I’m here. That sounds like a plan.”
“Good. I’ll see you Friday.” The line goes dead.
I stare at the blank screen as I pull it away from my face. My reflection looks back at me—pale, hollow-eyed, more worn than I remember. The woman who arrived in Sicily weeks ago is so different from the one I am now.
But what version is the real me? The woman who runs to keep her child safe? Or the one who stays and fights beside the man she loves?
I slowly move toward the terrace doors, stopping just before touching the handle. Tears burn in my eyes.
I wish more than anything that I had the right answers.
And more than that, I wish my father were here to guide me.