Chapter 16
Evelyn
“If you’re finished, I’ll show you what I ordered for you,” Massimo says when I set down my fork.
I’ve been quiet during breakfast, sorting through my tangled thoughts.
Going to the police in Mexico City isn’t an option, and I definitely can’t go to the DEA. Somehow, I have to get back to America—away from the cartels, away from George.
Away from Massimo.
Now that he’s spoken to me, my eyes lift to his. They glitter with anticipation, and his lips curve with a hint of pleasure. Whatever he’s purchased for me, the prospect of giving it to me excites him.
Unease stirs in my gut. In my experience, gifts always come with a price, a debt that I can’t pay.
I don’t want to owe Massimo even more.
I already owe him my life. Accepting material things will only place me more thoroughly under his control.
For now, I have no choice but to rely on my dark protector, but I have no intention of staying amongst the cartel indefinitely.
I don’t want to accept anything that will come with further strings attached.
“Whatever it is, I don’t need it,” I reply, shrugging off his offer.
His gaze trails over my body in a lazy, indulgent appraisal. I become acutely aware that his thin cotton shirt is all that conceals my nakedness. His attention makes warmth bloom beneath the surface of my skin, and my cheeks heat.
“Do you want to go to the party wearing only my shirt?” he rumbles. “Believe me, I wouldn’t mind at all. That way, everyone will know you’re with me.”
His massive body seems to swell, his powerful muscles flexing with something like pride.
I swallow down the protest that teases at the tip of my tongue: I’m not with him.
But the other things he said are too important for me to argue over that misconception at the moment.
“What party?” I ask. “I don’t want to meet any of your cartel friends.”
The prospect of being surrounded by criminals makes a shadow of my fear flutter at the back of my mind. I do my best to ignore it; I can’t afford the distraction of further emotional turmoil. Not if I’m going to navigate this dangerous situation.
He takes my hand in his, calloused fingers brushing over my knuckles to soothe my mounting tension.
“No one will touch you,” he swears. “Duarte won’t allow it. He knows I saved you from Los Zetas when they kidnapped you, and he approves.”
“But Duarte wants you to…kill George.” I stumble over the word. My throat closes in horror at the prospect of his murder, no matter his corruption. “You said you’re doing it as a favor.”
He nods, unruffled and unrepentant.
“George is dirty. He dug his own grave when he sold his loyalty to the Zetas. You are innocent. Duarte appreciates the difference. He won’t allow you to be harmed.”
I press my lips together, considering my next words carefully. “I don’t want to meet Duarte. He’s a drug lord. That scares me, Massimo.”
It isn’t a lie, and I allow him to read the stark truth in my eyes. I’m not accustomed to showing my more vulnerable emotions so openly, but if honesty will give me an advantage, I’ll use it.
He tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
“You don’t need to be afraid. You’re with me.” Before I formulate another protest, he continues on. “This isn’t optional. I have to attend Duarte’s party to secure our alliance. My friends are counting on me, and I won’t let them down.”
“Your friends?” I remember the two handsome Italian men who’d argued with him last night—the brothers. “Why can’t they be the ones to go to the party?”
“They’re on their way back to Naples. It’s up to me to conclude our business here in Mexico.”
My blood turns cold.
“And what business is that?” I demand, daring him to admit his criminal activities.
It’ll be a good reminder for me too. The man holding me so tenderly is involved in organized crime, and I can’t allow myself to forget it.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” he replies, posture relaxed and completely unbothered.
Whatever he’s doing here in Mexico, Massimo doesn’t feel a shred of guilt over his lawless lifestyle.
I gape at him. “You want to take me to a drug lord’s party, and you think I shouldn’t worry about what you’re up to?”
He nods. “There’s no need for you to concern yourself with my business.” He presses a kiss to my forehead, and the shockingly intimate gesture makes my mind blank for a moment. “You don’t need to worry about anything. I’ll take care of you, Evelyn.”
Deep in my bones, I believe him. But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with the situation.
“I don’t want to go,” I say, once again hoping the bald truth will sway him.
His lips ghost over my cheek, his stubble lightly scraping my skin as he whispers in my ear, “I’m not letting you out of my sight, but I have to attend this party. That means you’re coming with me.” His teeth graze my throat, a sensual threat. “I promise I will reward you after.”
My belly flutters, equal parts unease and arousal. His energy is undeniably carnal, but the strange heat crackling through my veins isn’t purely wariness.
“I don’t want a reward.” My protest is embarrassingly breathy when I should sound outright indignant.
His low hum vibrates over my neck, sinking into my heated flesh. “You will. You’ll be desperate for it by the time I’m finished with you.”
Then his silver eyes fill my world, and we’re exchanging heated breaths. He waits for a few agonizing seconds, drawing out my desire for him until every inch of my skin tingles with desperation for his touch.
My head tips back slightly, an unthinking invitation as I surrender to the powerful connection we share.
If I pause to reason through my actions, I’d probably conclude that I shouldn’t kiss this dangerous man.
But he’s not a danger to me.
And in the aftermath of George’s terrible betrayal, I’m craving comfort. Losing myself in Massimo is the sweetest relief after my trauma and heartbreak.
His lips are even softer than I dreamed, caressing mine in a skillful, seductive kiss. With every flick of his tongue, he stokes the heat gathering low in my belly. My breasts feel full and heavy, and my nipples peak. I press my body closer to his hulking frame.
He deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping into my mouth in a confident, domineering stroke. My head tips back farther, inviting his claim. His hand cradles my nape, holding me in a careful but immovable grip. He keeps me right where he wants me and plunders my mouth, taming my tongue with his.
Abruptly, he tears his lips from mine and kisses his way down the column of my throat. A low, wanton moan I barely recognize issues from my throat just before his teeth sink into my shoulder in a purely primal act of dominance.
I cry out at the shock of pain, even as my core contracts in response. He keeps me pinned in his ruthless bite and fists my hair in one hand, anchoring me in place. My scalp lights up with little pinpricks of pain that turn into dancing sparks along my spine.
His other hand cups my breast, palming it through his soft shirt. My nipple is hard and sensitive, straining against the fabric. He growls his approval, the sound rumbling all the way to my heated core.
My thighs grow slick with a shocking wash of arousal, an embarrassing sensation I’ve never known before meeting Massimo.
I squirm, but he keeps me captive in his savage bite, his tongue tracing soothing patterns on my skin even as pain radiates from my shoulder.
It morphs into dark pleasure, sending lightning strikes straight to my pussy.
Just when I think I can’t endure any more of the cruelly erotic sensations, he releases me and presses a tender kiss to the mark he left on my skin.
“Now everyone will know you’re mine.” His voice is heavy with desire and deep, wicked satisfaction.
The prospect of attending the drug lord’s party with Massimo’s bite mark on my neck causes anxiety to nip at me, but he quickly obliterates my budding concern by pinching my nipple.
His lips crash down on mine, devouring my erotic cry.
Our first kiss was a careful, slow temptation; this one is savage, rough with raw need.
He claims my mouth with tongue and teeth, kissing me so deeply that I barely breathe.
He consumes me, savoring the taste of my needy whimpers and soft gasps as he toys with my breasts.
Even through the barrier of his shirt, my nipples tingle and throb beneath his deft fingers. His thumbs rub over them, teasing me until I become frenzied in my desperation for more.
“Please…” I pant against his lips.
I’m not sure if I’m pleading for more or for him to release me. Part of me quakes at the overwhelming carnal power he holds over me, but I don’t truly fear him. Our connection is all consuming, and I’m lost in him.
He groans into my mouth and kisses me more deeply, almost feral.
With one sweep of his powerful arm, he clears the dining table.
Plates smash, and silverware clatters to the floor.
I gasp in shock, but before I manage to ask what he’s doing, his hands sink into my hips.
He lifts me as though I weigh nothing more than a doll, laying me out on the table before him.
I stare up at him where he looms over me, his eyes burning as he studies my body.
I study him with equal intensity, my greedy gaze raking over his muscular chest and rippling abs where his robe has parted to reveal his impressive physique. My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and he watches the sign of my desire with rapt focus.
His hands fist in the shirt that barely covers me, and the material tears like paper as he rips it apart. Cool air washes over my heated skin—my body is fully bare to him for the first time.
My hands fly to my chest and pussy, instinctively covering myself. His fingers encircle my wrists, and he drags my arms above my head, pinning them to the table.
“Never hide from me,” he rebukes.