Chapter Two
Evangeline
I inhale a slow, shaky breath as the door clicks shut behind Dante and his equally dangerous companion. At last, the tension drains from the air, and I can feel the adrenaline pulsing through my body. Their dark presence had been like a vacuum, pulling warmth and light from the room.
Here in my laboratory, with the cold steel countertops under fluorescent lights, the hum of refrigeration units, and the sharp, antiseptic scent, I feel safer, anchored. The white walls and the tick of the wall clock help calm the panic in my chest.
After the mysterious conversation with Dante Vescari, I’m a mess. His dark eyes stared right through my soul; his chiseled jawline and the jagged scar on his throat gave him an intense, dangerous, but devastatingly attractive appearance that made my body react in a way I’ve never felt before.
I know I shouldn’t have stared at him, at his scar running across his throat, but when he spoke, I could feel it. The words scraped against my skin before they even reached my ears. His voice was low, rough, uneven, as if it had been broken once and never healed right.
Pharmacists notice details, and that was what I did, catalogued things, matched symptoms to causes.
And his voice … it wasn’t just deep. It was damaged.
I could almost see it, the violence it must have taken to carve that sound into him.
The long jagged scar on his throat is proof of the violent life he apparently leads.
The beautiful giant of a man doesn’t appear human; he looks carved from stone.
A handsome statue in an expensive Brioni suit, but everything about him screams danger.
His size, the dark hair casually styled with a hint of silver at his temples, that dark stubble on his jawline that only a man like him can pull off successfully.
The expensive clothes, his scar, even the tattoos I noticed peeking from beneath the cuff of his crisp white shirt as he reached to wipe the powder off my cheek.
Up close, I could make out the flash of colorful ink wrapping around his wrist. A hint of a winding pattern, intricate and deliberate, that must travel up his arm. It’s hidden from most eyes, meant to be seen only by those close enough or who dare to look.
And I have an insane desire to look, to trace those tattoos beneath his shirt, wanting to see where they lead and what else they reveal about the man that’s Dante Vescari. I feel they could expose the secrets he hides from the world.
Thinking about the way he gently stroked my cheek makes my pulse quicken and my cotton panties wet with desire for a man I don’t even know.
What is that about? The man is a criminal. What does that say about me? Does it take a criminal kingpin to turn me on?
I press my back flat against the lab’s cool wall and bring trembling fingers to my cheek. It was still on fire where he had touched it. He was so tender and caressing when he brushed the dust away.
Then, he had wrapped his large hand around my neck, hinting at the strength he possessed.
The entire moment will forever be etched in my memory.
No one has ever touched me like that, but Dante Vescari did today.
I should be more terrified; instead, I’m burning with desire to see what else he’s capable of doing to me with those hands. Hands, I know, have likely killed.
The last time my emotions were this unraveled was when my parents passed away. I was so lost and scared. Now, the familiar fear returns, despite the familiarity and comfort of my surroundings.
Tonight, my mind is racing with Dante’s cryptic remarks about my uncle “making promises” and warnings about my online shipping business. All my thoughts are more alarming than the last.
One thing is certain, and it’s that controlled substances never vanish from our inventory.
I triple-check my shipments, the label’s barcodes, and the ledgers.
I’m a rule follower, always have been. To me, jail is a fate I cannot fathom.
Who would keep the pharmacy afloat if I’m behind bars?
This store is my family’s legacy. I went to pharmacy school to preserve that legacy.
My heart clenches at the thought, and dizziness clouds my vision.
But my online business? In the back of my mind, I know that something could happen under my very nose, and I wouldn’t be aware of it. As the licensed pharmacist, my attention has always been focused on the pharmacy side of the store.
Our venture into aromatherapy and perfumes began strictly as a side note, a hobby I took to the next level.
The pharmacy is our major source of revenue.
Sure, I blend the fragrances, compound lotions, and have created a line of everything from hand soaps and bubble bath to laundry detergent, but Uncle Silas handles the business.
Both businesses actually. He’s in charge of our online presence, marketing, and shipping of the increasingly popular scented products.
According to him, we can’t fulfill those orders fast enough.
Does my uncle really associate with dangerous people? Was Vescari one of them? The image of those two men storming into the pharmacy chills me. If my uncle had been here, it could have turned violent.
The room tilts, and I slide down the wall, elbows on my knees, cradling my head in my hands. I ache for my parents, honest people who taught me integrity and doing right by others before they died in a terrible car crash, hit by a drunk driver. Would they know what to do if they were here?
Tears fill my eyes because, not for the first time, I wish they were here with me now. Apparently, they had some agreement with the Vescari family. One I wasn’t aware of until now.
My uncle had helped fill the void after my parents passed; he’s always taken care of things.
He helped with the store while I was in college, saving it for me, making sure it would be here when my degree was completed.
I can’t imagine my uncle doing anything criminal, but what if he’s somehow lost his moral compass along the way? Is he in danger?
I’ve always known he might have some money issues. My aunt had a lengthy terminal illness when I was younger, and my father mentioned helping Uncle Silas out. But I would never think of him as a thief or in bed with criminals. My parents trusted Silas; therefore, I trust Silas.
But I’m also not as na?ve as people think. I know desperate people will do desperate things.
Minutes, or it might’ve been hours, pass in oppressive silence. Not one person stuck their head in to see how I was doing. Even Annie, my lab tech, doesn’t check in on me.
My guess is they’ve all gone home for the night.
How damn depressing. No one even thought to look in on me after the big, bad mobsters stormed the back room. They could have hurt me or worse. Much worse.
But they didn’t, did they?
Dante asked alarming questions about our business and insinuated my uncle was involved with something dark and sinister, but the entire time, I was never afraid of him.
I should’ve been. In the recesses of my mind, I’ve heard his name whispered in hushed tones from people in the community, both in fear and in awe.
The man is a force of nature. While intense, he possesses a smoldering magnetism I can’t ignore. Today, it was as if he was tightly leashing in the violence he was capable of just for me. Restraining himself. It’s hard to explain, but it was as if he could actually “see” me.
I shake my head because it’s ridiculous to think someone like Dante Vescari would see me as anything more than a pest. A little girl in grown-up clothes, who isn’t strong enough to protect herself from the dangers surrounding her, both known and unknown.
For a brief second, I imagine what it would be like to have someone like him, as strong as him, taking care of me. Protecting me. Or more…
Ugh, snap out of it, Evangeline. He’s a mobster. Potentially out to harm your family. Not someone to play a role in your romantic fantasies.
Now, on top of my anxiety, an overwhelming sense of loneliness sweeps over me. I have no one.
My pulse drums against my temples, each beat making me think that my world has just shifted today.
The only certainty is that I know I haven’t seen the last of Dante Vescari, and I can’t stop wondering what he truly wants.