Chapter Seven
Evander
E very one of my senses hummed with awareness. Why hadn’t Gemma ever mentioned her Italian heritage? What else didn’t I know about her? Had I been that clueless?
Yes, I’d met her mother, and I’d learned about and loved her artistic side, but beyond that I’d known very little about her.
She blinked back at me, any vestige of guilt dissolving like it’d never been. She shrugged, then said blandly, “I know enough of the language to get me by. My grandmother swore enough in Italian for me to have a bit of a grasp of the language.”
“So you are Italian?”
She shook her head. “No, I was born in the US. This is my homeland.”
And yet she was hiding something. I’d been too blinded by my love for her the last time to have noticed anything amiss. Anger surged at my stupidity along with her duplicity. If she thought for a second I’d allow her to walk over me like a doormat, she’d soon learn the error of her ways.
I hadn’t been made an underboss for nothing. I killed as easily as I made love, and I’d revert to my merciless side to keep her until I’d had my fill of her—if that ever happened—and could walk away without looking back.
I parked at the side of the cabin, then shut down the car’s engine before I pushed open the driver’s door and climbed out. I glanced around at the vast emptiness, the wilderness that appeared empty but was full of life.
I inhaled the crisp, clean air, drawing it deep into my lungs. Though the land around me had been cleared of many of its trees long before I’d purchased it, the far-off mountains were filled with them in a riot of color displaying red, orange, yellow and mottled green.
The stream nearby burbled gently. When the rains came it’d be a raging torrent, with the cabin precariously close to its banks, but though it was hard to see with the naked eye, the land sloped away naturally from my little abode, keeping it safe and dry.
Even better, few people ever visited my patch of paradise. If the ‘private property’ sign on the driveway leading in didn’t dissuade them, the tall fence around it deterred even the most determined trespasser.
Gemma was the only other person I wanted here.
That she clearly wanted to be far away stirred up feelings within I’d been trying hard to push down. I jerked open her door and she fell to the ground outside thanks to the cuff attached below the handle.
Her breath hissed out, not from pain but humiliation. She almost looked like a street urchin in her faded leggings and splattered-with-colors T-shirt. “Was that really necessary?” she asked, her shocked, big green eyes staring up at me.
I pushed down remorse. I refused to show her any compassion. She deserved to be punished and humiliated. I dug the cuff’s key out of my jacket pocket, then released the cuff from the sedan’s door with a little click.
“Take a good look around,” I instructed as I pulled her to her feet. “This will be your home for some time to come.”
She blinked at me before horror filled her eyes. “I-I can’t stay here.”
Fury threatened to boil over. How many women threw themselves at me on a regular basis? Yet with just a few words Gemma made me feel as worthless as my own father had for so many years. When Ethan had shot and killed him, I’d felt nothing but relief.
When Gemma had left me, nothing had given me any relief. Not sex, not drugs, not even killing the many enemies who deserved to be six feet under.
“My cat will starve to death,” she blabbered. “He’s all I’ve got.”
Something pricked my conscience, but I masked my face of any emotion. “Inside, now.”
“You really did fool me all those years ago, didn’t you,” she said bitterly as she trudged with me along the grass than up onto the small porch at the front of the cabin. “I really believed you were a good man.”
“Is that why you left?” I asked hoarsely. “Because I was good?”
“No, I left because I found out everything I believed about you was a lie. That you really weren’t a good man at all.”
I nodded. “I’m glad you finally worked that out.” I unlocked the door, then drew her inside, my grip on her arm verging on cruel. I nodded at the interior. “As you can see the cabin is a simple, open design.” The kitchen cabinets were aged oak and matched the floorboards that also featured in the adjoining dining and lounge room. “The bathroom is next to our bedroom.”
“ Our bedroom?”
I smirked. “Did you really think for a second I’d allow you to sleep in a separate bedroom from me?” I bent my head and lowered my voice. “We have a lot of fucking to make up for.”
Her breath hissed, horror all but emanating from her right along with carnal need. She’d always reveled in our sexual chemistry, I doubted that had changed, even if she did try and deny it.
I nodded at the far room that I’d had tacked onto the end of the cabin after I’d bought the property. “The door to that room is locked, for good reason. You’re to stay out of it for the duration of your stay here.”
Her voice quivered. “So you will let me go at some point?”
“I didn’t say that,” I snapped, my so called patience wearing thin with her obvious wish to be anywhere but with me.
As if it hadn’t been bad enough feeling the lowest of the low with my father’s scornful words becoming arrows that cut deep into my self-esteem, into the very fabric of my existence. Even more unbearable had been watching my mother surrender to her addiction, which had corroded all logic and made her believe I was cast from the same mold as my father.
When Gemma had defined me thanks to my mafia heritage, it’d completely undone me, damaged me so deeply I’d yet to be mentally repaired.
But she was right about one thing. I wasn’t that man anymore; I’d never be that man ever again. I wouldn’t expose my heart to her or anyone else. I’d never allow anyone to shattered it into countless pieces.
I stalked over the floorboards toward our bedroom. I swung open the door, satisfaction filling me at the king size bed that barely fit into the space. With its blood-red cover and black bed posts, it verged on being an eyesore.
She stumbled a little and I pulled her back by my side. “What’s the matter? Don’t you like what you see?”
“Would it matter if I didn’t?”
I laughed coarsely. “No, it wouldn’t. This is your room as much as it’s mine now. Love it or hate it, that’s completely up to you.”
“How sweet of you to give me a choice in this one thing,” she said.
“Don’t get used to it,” I commanded softly.
Damn it was good to have the last word.