Chapter 23
Evelyn
“Do you want to talk about it?” I murmur, dropping another soft kiss on his broad shoulder.
Massimo doesn’t answer for a long moment. His heartbeat is strong and too fast, thrumming against my chest as he holds me close.
“You can tell me,” I urge, craving to comfort him.
He’d groaned in his sleep, a deeply pained sound. I see echoes of that pain in the tension that still grips his massive body, even though he handles me with aching care.
“My parents…” He draws in a shaky breath, as though he’s breathing me in. His frantic heartbeats slow, but he doesn’t put an inch of space between our entwined bodies. “I was dreaming about the day they died.”
My heart squeezes. It hadn’t just been a dream; he’d been trapped in a nightmarish memory.
“What happened to them?” I press gently, wanting to ease his pain.
If he tells me happened, he might be able to purge some of the darkness from his mind.
“They were shot.” His voice is oddly flat.
Maybe he isn’t close with his family either.
I would feel some sort of grief if my mom or stepdad died—if anyone bothers to tell me. My biological father is long gone, so I’ll never know what happened to him. The situation is complicated and painful. Does Massimo feel the same way about his parents?
“You weren’t close?” I ask carefully, wanting to understand better so that I can soothe him.
“I took them for granted,” he says roughly.
“They loved me and wanted the best for me, and I resented them for sheltering me. But they didn’t want to accept the harsher realities of how the world works.
My father didn’t defend my mother, and I’ll always hate him for that.
He was an idealist, and he died for it. I was too weak to save them. ”
My breath catches. His parents were murdered, and he witnessed it.
“You were there?”
“I tried to stand up to the gang that threatened us, but I wasn’t strong enough back then. But I made the bastard who shot them bleed. One day, I’ll finish the job. I’ll kill him for what he did.”
My stomach churns. I’ve known that Massimo lives in a violent world, and he’s capable of resorting to brutality to protect me.
I resent his criminal lifestyle and the drug lords he’s befriended.
When I’m safely in his arms, it’s easy to forget the circumstances that turned him into my dark protector.
My own childhood wasn’t easy, but his burdens are so much heavier than mine.
“How old were you?” I trail my fingers through his hair, soothing him.
“Eleven.” That flat, dull tone again. He’s clearly detached himself emotionally from the dark memory, but it haunted him in his sleep.
“I was just a weak, skinny boy then. But I became a man quickly enough after they were murdered. My only uncle had three children that he couldn’t afford to feed, so he refused to take me in.
I joined a gang and learned how to make my own way in the world.
I met Gian and Enzo, and we watched each other’s backs.
We’re all alive today because we fought for our survival in Le Vele. ”
“What’s Le Vele?”
I’m not sure if I want to hear more about his terrible childhood; my heart already aches for him with every beat. But he’s trusting me with this vulnerable information. I never would’ve expected my strong savior to open up to me about his criminal life, and I want to understand him better.
“The shitty neighborhood where I grew up,” he replies in that dispassionate tone. “After my parents died, I moved into a back room in a Camorra pool bar with Gian and Enzo. We kept the place clean and ran errands for the clan. Eventually, we proved that we were worthy of joining them.”
“I’m sorry,” I say softly, hating the dire circumstances that shaped his path.
He joined the mafia in order to survive, not because he’s an inherently bad man.
He pulls back from me slightly, and his fierce blue stare pierces my soul.
“I’m not sorry. I don’t regret my life, Evelyn.
And I won’t apologize for it. That time in Le Vele made me strong.
It taught me about how the world really works, something my parents never shared with me.
I got out. I’m more powerful and richer than I ever could’ve dreamed back then.
The Camorra provides security, a future.
I can give you anything you desire. I can keep you safe.
These are the things I can provide for you because of my lifestyle. I will never feel guilt for that.”
I don’t have a reply. How can I tell him that his mafia lifestyle is morally wrong?
His remarkable eyes shine with a fervent light. He truly believes that he’s followed the right path, and I suspect it was the only one open to him. He was an orphan in an impoverished neighborhood, fighting for survival. I can’t judge him for making hard choices.
That doesn’t mean I like the implications of what he’s become: camorrista, a criminal.
Massimo might have protective instincts, but he’s still part of a dangerous syndicate. I can’t rectify my feelings for him with my preconceived notions about the mafia.
So instead of questioning him further, I boldly press my lips to his.
I pour everything I can’t say into the kiss: that I care for him, that I want to ease his pain.
He’s suffered so much. I want to shield him from further hurt, just as he’s saved me so many times.
My judgment will only cause him more pain, and I can’t bear to harm my savior in any way.
He kisses me like I’m his oxygen, like he’ll die if he doesn’t share my every breath.
I meet him with equal fervor, losing myself in our fierce connection. He saved me, so I’ll do my best to save him from his own demons.
The horror of his nightmare melts away beneath the heat of our fiery chemistry. There are no thoughts, no pain. Only lust and intimacy.
His phone pings, jolting us both back to reality. He breaks our kiss with a low curse and checks the screen.
“What is it?” I ask, breathless and reeling from the sudden absence of his lips on mine.
His jaw ticks with irritation, and his eyes are molten. He clearly doesn’t like that our kiss has ended either.
“We have to get ready,” he rumbles, almost a growl of frustration. “Stefano and Carmen are coming to see us.”
My lust sours, and I drop my gaze so that I don’t have to meet his hungry stare. I don’t want him to read the reluctance in my eyes.
I don’t want to meet with the cartel kingpin, just as I hadn’t wanted to go to Colombia.
But Massimo is still raw from his nightmare, and he confessed so many dark secrets of his past. He’s made himself vulnerable with me, and I don’t want to needle our newfound intimacy with prickly words.
I can’t leave this building; George and his Zetas friends might get to me.
For the time being, I’ll stay with Massimo, even if that means meeting with the most dangerous drug lord in Mexico.