Chapter Seventeen
Evander
I didn’t expect to enjoy shopping like some pussy-whipped house-husband while imagining future meals—breakfast, lunch and dinner—as I plucked the ingredients off the shelves and into my trolley, so why did I?
I guessed even shopping for Gemma was a far nicer option than not knowing where she was or what she was doing.
I chose a packet of tampons with a self-deprecating grin. Even choosing sanitary items felt right when it came to Gemma.
Knowing she wasn’t on birth control had sent me into a spin. I’d never been the fatherly type—my traumatic childhood had seen to that—so why the fuck had yearning soon after flooded through me?
I could almost picture her belly swollen with our child. I’d kiss every new—and old—stretchmark she had. I’d be tender and sweet so that she’d never again have reason to leave me.
Of course with the mafia families on the brink of war I couldn’t afford to get emotionally attached again. Having a child meant having an extra target for my enemies to use against me...just as they’d use Gemma against me.
I’d put off fatherhood forever if necessary, but how long could I put off anyone else knowing about Gemma and my fixation toward her? I couldn’t hide her forever, just as I couldn’t shield my feelings about her for much longer.
A protective instinct rose up inside me, alongside an unyielding knowledge I’d invoke deadly retribution if anyone dared threaten my own. Because Gemma was mine, I just had to remove the blinkers from her eyes that kept her shortsighted from the truth.
Sudden weakness flooded through me, my lungs tightening and trapping all oxygen. If she thought being my prisoner was unbearable, she likely wouldn’t survive what my enemies would do to her.
I paused, my fingers clenching around the shopping cart handle. I’d kidnapped Gemma to seek redemption and retribution. Instead it’d underscored my true feelings for her.
What happened to her deserving to be punished and humiliated?
I snorted at my own idiocy. I’d been kidding myself to think all this was about revenge. I was still in love with her...I’d never stopped loving her. The only difference was that tendrils of bitterness now darkened my affection.
I didn’t realize how tense I’d become until I drove back and parked at the side of my cabin, then released a taut breath. I couldn’t wait to get inside and simply share Gemma’s space again.
I already had an idea for a painting I wanted to do of her, one where she was asleep peacefully in her bed, with the morning light streaming in and haloing her head like she truly was an angel sent from heaven. Then there was one of her in the shower, with her perfect body glazed with rivulets of water.
I grabbed the half-dozen shopping bags from the trunk of my car and carried the groceries inside, only to stop short at seeing Gemma sitting in front of the door to my studio. She’d yet to get dressed from her shower, the lower half of the once-white towel that was wrapped around her torso tinged a bright pink.
She lifted her head, her eyes wet and her voice shaky. “I was going to pretend I didn’t go into your studio and see your art. Except I-I really don’t want any more lies between us.”
I was so overwrought with emotions my brain shutdown all feelings, making me numb when I placed the grocery bags to one side on the floor, then knelt down in front of her. It didn’t escape my attention that it was as if she was a goddess I worshipped. “I don’t want that either,” I said, reaching out and taking her hands in mine. “The portrait of us in the gallery should have given away who I really was.”
She exhaled softly. “It didn’t even enter my mind. There isn’t any way in my mind to mesh a mafia man with an artist.”
I nodded. She was right. Mafia men were hardhearted killers, not sensitive artists. “It’s why I stayed anonymous.”
She bit her bottom lip, her mind no doubt churning with questions. “When we first met and I spilled my folder of landscape paintings, were you an artist then?”
I nodded. “Yes. Though I had more time back then to be what I wanted, with my family commitments not as stringent as they are now.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “Has your don relegated you more work?”
I winced. She wouldn’t take my next words lightly. “I’m the underboss now. I have a lot more responsibilities.”
“And a lot more power,” she whispered dully.
“Yes, there is that,” I conceded. “But it hasn’t changed me. I’m still the same man.”
She pushed a shaky hand over her face, her voice higher-pitched. “If you say so.”
I bit back an expletive. Why did she always think the worst of me? “I am.”
She looked back at me. “Does anyone in your family know about your side hustle? Do they know about your talent?”
I shook my head. “I reserve my time behind an easel for when I can escape to my cabin.” I snorted. “I guess we all carry secrets.”
“Yes, I guess we do,” she said, a tinge of bitterness creeping into her voice.
I squeezed her hands, my gaze staying on hers when I said, “I know you have secrets too.”
She pulled her hands from mine, then pushed to her feet before looking down at me. “Some secrets stay secret for good reason.”
How did she still look like a goddess while wrapped in her bloody towel? I exhaled away my silent thought as I straightened to my full height. “At least tell me why you left.”
She paused, considering her next words. “Let’s just say it was for my own safety.”
Horror squeezed my chest. “I would never hurt you.”
She blinked, then conceded, “Not intentionally, no.”
My frowned deepened as I tried to make sense of her cryptic words. “If you think for a second my family would hurt you, you’re sadly mistaken. We protect our own.”
“Maybe,” she said softly, listlessly. “But I doubt my ‘other’ family would see it that way.”
I didn’t speak a word, I sensed if I allowed her to continue I’d finally see the answer I craved with every beat of my heart.
She pushed a hand to her mouth, then said almost inaudibly, “If they ever discovered my identity my life wouldn’t be worth living.”
My senses froze, hovering in another realm of time and space. When they finally dropped, crashing into jagged pieces inside of me, I inwardly screamed for answers. “Who is your family?”