Chapter 11
ELIAS
Iknow I've said the worst possible thing the moment I hear the words fall out of my mouth.
She pales, the color draining so fast it's like watching a light go out, her mouth flinching as if I'd struck her. The jasmine scent of her taunts me, warm and familiar, and my chest caves in.
I run a shaking hand over my face.
The truth slams into me then. No—slides into me, quiet and inevitable, like the missing piece I didn't know I'd been searching for my entire life.
I am in love with her.
My knees go unsteady. My heart does something I don't have a name for, a heavy, lurching rhythm that I feel in my throat, in my fingertips, in the bad hip that's been with me through fifteen years of war and loss and isolation.
Every scar on my body seems to pull tight at once, as if my own flesh is bracing for what comes next.
A cold sweat pricks at the back of my neck.
This is what I've been running from. Or rather what I thought I could never feel or have. This… connection with another person in the world, this feeling of awe and fulfillment and sheer, unconditional love.
She makes me feel it all, like I could encompass the entire world in my heart. She makes me feel complete again.
When I say her name, she takes another step back.
The cabin is silent around us. Her arms wrap around her belly like she's holding herself together.
Like hell I’m giving her up to another man. To another future. To a life that doesn’t include me.
I’m keeping her.
Only I told her that in the worst possible way.
I swallow at how her pain slashes through my flesh and bone, as if it were my own. Worse than the bullet that shattered my hip and left me broken, both in heart and body.
“Princess, I—”
The loud chirp of the satellite phone shatters the silence, startling us both.
I stare at the instrument, willing it to quiet, begging silently to not steal this moment from me. It continues ringing. Pulling a rough breath, I pick it up and switch it on.
“Elias? Is Iris Moretti there?”
“Yes,” I say, feeling no relief at hearing my friend Aiden’s voice. If anything, I feel the opposite. A leaden weight in my stomach.
“Can’t talk for too long, buddy. I’ll explain everything later, yeah? You did good, Elias, like I knew you would.” It’s high praise from my friend, who like me, mostly communicates in grunts. “Her brother wants to talk to her.”
Devastation moves through me like a wrecking ball. Then there is relief for her that her brother’s alive and well.
I stare at the phone for a second before handing the device to her. “Your brother’s on the line.”
Iris stares at me for a few more interminable moments before what I say sinks through. Shock and joy chase each other. Her fingers tremble as she takes it from me. She turns around, as if she’s shielding herself from me.
I move away from her but can’t go far. It’s like she’s tied a string to my heart, my very soul, and holds the leash to it in her hand. I hope she’ll be gentle with it once she realizes that power she has over me.
Anxiety is a tight knot in my chest as I hear her single-word responses before she breaks down into sobs.
My feet carry me to her on the floor as she slides to the ground, tears running down her plump cheeks.
I put a hand over her shoulder, just to let her know that I’m here but she flinches from my touch.
It’s a lash against my skin.
“But Marco, I can’t…” she hiccups and wipes at her cheek. “I can’t see you ever again? That’s… that’s not how I wanted it.”
Fresh tears swim down as she sniffles and listens to him. “I love you, Marco. I…” she nods. “Yes, right. Aiden’s Elias’s boss and his wife’s Rosa? Any chance you’ll come see me there? Please.”
She swallows, a slow resolve dawns in her eyes as they lift and meet mine. “Of course, I’m going to make you proud. You want to talk to him?” She nods, tells him she loves him once more and hands me the phone. “My brother wants to talk to you.”
I take the handset from her and press End on it. The last thing I want right now is to discuss Iris with her big brother and then be given orders. She was his sister only until I extracted her from the bullet hail at the church.
She’s mine now and no mafia asshole is going to tell me what to do with her. This way, Aiden can make an excuse for how I never got the orders to return her.
“You cut the call?” Iris says, wiping her cheeks again with the back of her hand. There’s a volatile energy to her as she pushes herself to her feet. “My brother wanted to thank you, you grumpy oaf.”
“We both know that you’ve gone above and beyond in thanking me,” I say, covering the distance between us.
Predictably, her cheeks pinken, and a fire dances in her eyes. She’s blazing angry and Jesus, she’s beautiful. The front of her tee is damp with tears, teasing me with shadows of those dusky nipples and heaving tits.
I make a vow to myself right there. That’s the last time she’ll ever cry.
“That wasn’t me thanking you, you know that.”
I take another step, caging her against another post. A new energy fills my veins, my muscles, my mind spinning scenarios of our future together. “What was it then?”
“You know what it was,” she says, pushing my chest with her hands.
I don’t budge an inch. Cup her lush hips with my hands. This requires a serious conversation but it’s impossible for me to hold off from touching her. “Clarify for me, one more time.”
Her fingers spread over my bare chest with that greediness I love about her. “We’re going off topic. You should know what my brother said to me.”
“Okay, tell me then.”
“I’m free.” Fresh tears fill her eyes and the tip of her nose turns red again.
“Free from what?”
“From some lecherous old man wanting to marry and breed me. From that horrible mafia life. From a family that’s always treated me like an outsider.
” She lifts her chin and I’m filled with fresh awe at her courage.
“My life’s my own now. That bullet fest at my wedding, Marco had it all staged.
Even you pulling me out of it, it was to make it look like someone kidnapped me, then killed me. For revenge on him.”
Another hiccup interrupts then she continues. “He faked my death without even telling me. Iris Moretti, that pathetic girl who always wants to be loved, always wanted to belong, is forever gone. Except…” she shakes, and I pull her to me.
She’s soft and warm in my embrace. I want her big, brave, generous heart in my keeping like I’ve never wanted anything in my life.
I want to shower her with happiness and joy and pleasure.
I want so much that it’s fucking scary. And yet, it’s not scary either, if she would just let me in.
I press a kiss to her temple. “Except what, sweetheart?”
Her cheek is hot and damp against my chest. “I can never see him again, Elias. I can never see my brother again. The only one who’s ever loved me.”
My heart, thumping and thundering, has now moved into my throat and it’s a damn feat to get words past it. But I have to say them, release them, give them shape and form. “That’s not true, baby girl.”
“It is. Your boss Aiden and his wife are going to pick me up in two days. He said they’ll have a new identity, passport and cash for me, that I can stay with them in Montana for a few months before I decide where I want to go. I have all this freedom but nowhere to go, no one to call mine. Again.”
“You aren’t listening to me, Princess. It’s not true and—”
“You’re the one not listening, Elias Sharif,” she says, pushing away from my hold.
“That phone call means you can return me, be rid of me, never see me ever again. In fact, you could tell your boss to come tomorrow and then you can return to your precious solitary life. If you give me a map and directions, I could set off now. There’s still some sunlight left.
Like this could be the last time you set eyes on me and—”
I press a hand to her mouth. “And I could help you check off one more thing on your alphabet list.”
Her eyes search mine but there’s something else there too. Something that sets my soul on fire in a fierce, I’m-alive way. Something that recognizes the strength of the connection, the pull of the bond between us.
She pulls my hand off her mouth, fingers tight on my wrist. Her eyes dance with excitement. “Which one?”
“Primal Play,” I say, a plan consolidating in my mind. If I want to win my princess, I have to do it her way. Play her game. Show her that I can be whatever she needs me to be, forever. End what she started in the best way possible.
“I don’t know what it means. I just heard one of my—”
“Stepsisters say it,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek.
“It means,” I thrust a hand through my hair, “something that evokes all those primal feelings and instincts in us. Like you decide to leave me tonight, walk out the door right now but I would chase you. Run you down out there. And when I catch you, I’ll take you in a primal way. ”
Her chest rises and falls, her entire body vibrating. “And what? I’ll check the letter P off, wipe your cum from my thighs and walk to the nearest town?”
“You’re getting mouthy, Princess.”
“Well, you have changed me.”
I want to kiss her so badly for admitting that and yet, I want to play it this way. I have to.
Soppy, sentimental words don't come naturally to me and right now, after what I said about keeping her if she fell pregnant, after she just told me she has nowhere to go, they'd ring hollow anyway.
She wouldn't believe them. I have to show her first.
I want her to understand that I’d chase her to the ends of the earth because I love her. Because I need her. Because she’s mine. And when I claim her, I want to do it in a way that neither of us will forget for the rest of our lives.
“I don’t know what you might do after, Princess. Like you said, you’re a free woman now. Now, do you want to play or not?”
“It’s on, mountain man.” The stubborn, brave creature that is my woman lifts her chin. “You have to give me a half hour head start. Remember I’m a fat, naive, fragile mafia princess.”
“Nothing about you is fragile, sweetheart.” I reach past her and push the cabin door open. The cold mountain air rushes in. “Now run, Princess."