Chapter 1 – One Year Later
JADE
ONE YEAR LATER
Once upon a time, the walls caged me in, but now, they hold all the things that matter. It’s been a year since Agnelo died. And if Enzo hadn’t assured me he was truly gone, I may not have believed it.
I’ve spent years terrorized by him, living under his shadow, fearing for Robby and me. But we’re both safe now, together. With Enzo as my husband, I’ve never felt safer.
We’ve been married for four months now and there are still days I have to remind myself that this is really my life. That I didn’t somehow dream it up. But his loving arms and the soothing ways he speaks to me when we’re alone in bed together, they remind me that I’ve finally found my home.
I slip into a pair of stilettos, readying to go to work while he sits on the edge of the bed, shirtless, and gazing up and down my body like he’s undressing me already.
Through the mirror, I find the wickedness lurking beneath my husband’s fierce gaze.
“Don’t you dare look at me that way.” I fidget with the sleeves of my blouse, a shiver racing down my back.
“I have to go to work,” I toss out, avoiding him now as I wind around to the closet, shifting through, looking for a handbag.
He rises off the bed, and my nipples instantly harden beneath my bra, those footfalls heavy.
That firm chest presses into my back. I see him behind me through the mirror, and without leaving my gaze, he wraps a hand around my throat, putting pressure, enough to fuel my nerve endings, making me tingle and ache.
His other palm curls around my hip, his mouth dipping to the slope of my ear. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me.” His gaze is a darkened lull of obsession as they take me in through the mirror. I drown in their melody, my flesh his for the taking.
“Enzo,” I groan, my ass rubbing over his hardened length, thick and heavy under his gray sweats.
“You keep saying my name that way and I’m gonna drag you to the floor and fuck your pretty mouth until it’s dripping with my cum.”
“Oh lord . . .” I gasp a moaning breath, dropping my head back against his chest. His dirty talk always sets me off. “It’s not fair that you’re doing this now, when I have to be at work.” I sigh.
“Good,” he hums as those lips sink to my neck, teeth biting, lips kissing me there while I cry out for more.
My hand snaps to the top of his head as he says, “I want you to think about my fat cock fucking you all day.” He kisses me again, sucking on my skin, as those eyes burn into mine.
Watching him, watching me . . . my God, I want this man now.
“I want your pussy aching for me when you get home. And when you’re back with me, I’m gonna spread you open and feast on your pussy like it’s the last goddamn meal I’ll ever get. ”
“Ugh!” I grumble in frustration.
A masculine hand glides from my hip and down my thigh, fingers fledging up my inner thigh until those fingertips brush across my pussy. Even through my jeans, I can feel the weight of his touch.
“Enzo . . . please,” I beg, forgetting my job, forgetting everything but him. He sucks on my earlobe. The vibration of his growling makes my core throb.
“I’m gonna be hard all day thinking about your wet cunt riding me. You know how much I love to watch you when you fuck me.”
“I soooo hate you right now.” My voice is barely recognizable.
His masculine chuckle only makes me ache more. “I bet you do.” He backs off, slapping my ass hard.
I spin around, planting a hand on my hip. “You’re trying to torture me, aren’t you?”
He winks with a smug smirk, and when my eyes lower to the bulge in his sweats, it jerks.
Growling, he pushes up on me, grabbing my jaw. “You gonna keep staring at it or are you gonna get on your knees and finish me off?” His voice is heavy with guttural desire and the sound of it only makes me hungry for him.
I round a hand to his ass and squeeze. “I guess I’m not the only one who’s going to have to wait for it.” There’s a challenge in those words as I let a playful laugh slip. I kiss the tip of his nose and fix the collar of my shirt.
He drops his hand, his chest rocking with heavy breaths. When he gazes at me with scorching intensity, I almost melt for him, almost beg him to do what he’s promised to do when I arrive home.
I glance at the clock above his head, and ball a fist in frustration, knowing we definitely have time for nothing. I have to get to work, and considering it’s my place, I kind of need to open it.
“I really hate you right now.” I practically pout.
He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I love you more, baby.” He winks. Just then there’s a knock on the door, and he shifts around to hide his erection.
“Come in,” I say, exiting the closet, Enzo hiding behind me.
Robby strolls in, holding his tablet. “Morning, Mom, Dad.”
Dad.
That one word, it melts my heart, and I know it makes Enzo so happy.
But that’s what Enzo became, my baby boy’s father.
Three months after I got Robby back, Enzo asked us if he could adopt him.
Robby was beyond thrilled. He was already obsessed with Enzo, and to have that man want him, choose him .
. . my God, it meant everything, to the both of us.
My eyes fill with tears as I recall when it became official. Enzo even threw a party to commemorate the event.
“Morning, bud,” Enzo says.
“Morning, baby,” I say. “Are you two still going to the baseball game later?”
Robby looks at Enzo, kinda suspiciously, and I throw a curious gaze behind me, then back to my son.
“What?” Enzo asks, flipping his hands in the air with a grin.
“Ahh, what was that look Robby gave you?”
“I have no idea what she’s talking about.” Enzo widens a stare at Robby, tightening his mouth to stifle the smile.
“Yeah, Mom. No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh.” I squint at them both, and Enzo playfully nods at Robby with a wink. “Well, I have to go now, boys. Don’t eat too much junk at the game.”
“We promise not to stuff our faces with lots of ice cream and cotton candy.” Enzo winks at Robby who only laughs.
My laughter is low as I stare at the two boys I love more than anything. With a deep sigh, I say, “You two have fun.” I lean over, kissing Robby, then leave one on Enzo’s cheek.
“I’ll miss you,” he whispers as he grabs my jaw and captures my lips in a hard kiss, strangling on a groan set deep in his throat.
“Eww!” Robby gripes, and we both chuckle.
“Sorry,” Enzo says. “But I kinda love your mother.”
Robby grins as we start to walk out, and suddenly his arms swing around Enzo’s middle in a tight hug. “I’m happy you’re my dad,” he says, his features sincere, and my heart lurches.
“Shit, man,” Enzo chokes up, clearly not expecting that. “You trying to ruin my cred and make me cry?”
I swipe under my eye. Robby had gone through so much thanks to those monsters, his relief at feeling the safety in the arms of his parents makes sense.
His counselor had said he has made great progress, and his school psychologist says he’s adjusting great in school.
He already has made so many friends. How could they not love him?
Having Aida close by definitely helped Robby in the beginning.
She was the only constant he had growing up.
I was thrilled when she and Matteo bought a house on the block.
Luckily it had gone on sale not too long after, so they were able to move out of Chiara and Dom’s place.
I’m glad Aida and Robby have remained close.
She’s like his big sister, and the love he has for her is something that needs to be nurtured.
After all, she saved my son in a way no one would’ve.
She loved that boy like her own and I will never be able to repay her for that.
“Okay, you two. I really have to go now.”
“Love you, Mom.” He waves at me.
“Bye, baby girl. Think about me.” He sucks the corner of his lip into his mouth, and holy hell, I ache with renewed fervor.
“You . . .” I tighten my mouth, grabbing his face and kissing him again, giving another one to Robby on the top of his head.
“Behave, boys.”
“We will!” Robby calls as I step away.
“We won’t,” Enzo throws in just as I make it out the door.
Most survivors of trafficking are not as lucky as I am. If they do survive, they don’t have anyone to help them transition from that life into the real world.
My idea came to me three months into living with Enzo. I envisioned a place that could offer survivors everything—from a place to live, to counseling, to programs that teach them life and work skills they could take with them to become integrated into the society they were ripped away from.
At first, I didn’t think I could achieve what I wanted. It felt too big. But after spilling my heart to Enzo one night, he assured me he had my back and supported me one hundred percent.
He convinced me I had to do it. That a place like that would be a great help to other women, especially when run by a woman who understood what it’s like.
I wanted to focus on women because many of them wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing sleeping quarters with a man, even if he was on a different floor. I wanted to provide safety, not fear.
So, with Enzo’s help, we found a place within a week—a three-story building with offices on the first floor, perfect for lectures and workshops, and the upstairs serving as living space.
We quickly found another location, with the intention to provide both places with housing and programs. Six months after that, Helping Hand was born—a nonprofit organization that has grown more in these first few months than I ever envisioned.
With the connections the Cavaleris have, with the funding their wealthy colleagues and friends have provided, it's become a thriving refuge for many survivors.