Chapter 6
EVA
My mind races through escape scenarios while my body wants to give in to Adriano’s offer to protect us.
I’m so tired physically, but also mentally, emotionally.
Mirabella's tiny fingers clutch my shirt, her eyes darting between me and the man she doesn’t know is her father.
The man who can never know what I've done.
I need a reprieve. To regroup.
I need to feed Mirabella.
The best option right now is to let Adriano assist me in getting out of this alley and away from the Bratva.
"I'll come with you. But first I need to feed Mirabella and tend to my cuts.”
For a moment I think he'll refuse, drag us both to whatever car he's driven here.
The Adriano I knew was stubborn like that.
The man standing before me now is harder, dangerous in ways I never witnessed before.
"Fine." He pulls out his phone and taps on the screen. “There’s a pharmacy around the block. Then we’ll get food."
Relief floods through me. I’ve got a temporary reprieve, time to think. "Thank you."
When I start to walk, my legs wobble.
Adriano's there instantly, strong arm wrapping around my waist.
I inhale sharply at his touch as memories of the way he held me so gently, reverently, flood back.
"I can walk," I protest weakly, gripping Mirabella’s hand, wishing I could pick her up and run again.
"Like hell you can." He practically carries me, my feet barely touching the ground as we leave the alley.
Mirabella observes him with quiet intensity.
Her ability to watch and assess at such a young age is a survival trait I wish she'd never needed to develop.
She’s wary but not afraid, as she usually is of most strangers.
Does something inside her know that she’s a part of him?
The pharmacy is nearly empty when we arrive.
Adriano sets me in a chair in the closed quick clinic area, then gathers first aid supplies.
He sets everything on the counter along with several hundred-dollar bills.
"Keep the change," he says, turning to me as if he expects me to have run off. I would have, but at the moment, I can’t.
Ten minutes later, we're seated in an outside area of a small café.
Adriano positions us in a corner where he can see from all directions.
Mirabella sits beside me, coloring on a paper placemat with crayons the waitress brought over.
"I'll do it myself," I insist as Adriano reaches for the antiseptic wipes. My fingers brush his, and even that fleeting contact sends electricity coursing through me.
"You'll miss half your cuts." He pulls my hand toward him, ignoring my protest. "Hold still."
I bite my lip as he cleans a deep gash on my palm, his touch impossibly gentle despite the hardness in his eyes.
This is what I fear most, his tenderness.
These small moments of care are more dangerous to my resolve to run than any threat could ever be.
Mirabella watches him with curiosity.
When Adriano pulls out a butterfly bandage for my eyebrow, she scoots her chair closer to his, peering at his work.
"Does it hurt?" she asks.
"Just a little," I answer.
Adriano's hands pause. "Your mama is very brave."
Mirabella nods solemnly. "The bad men keep finding us."
I close my eyes briefly. My daughter shouldn't know about bad men or hiding or running.
"Why are they after you?" Adriano asks, voice low and controlled as he applies antiseptic to a cut on my forearm. The sting makes me wince, but he holds my arm steady. "What could they possibly want with you?"
I search his beautiful, dangerous face that once looked at me like I was the center of his world. Now it looks at me with pain and suspicion.
"The less you know, the better," I say, pulling my arm away and reaching for my water.
Adriano's expression darkens. "That's not how this works, Eva."
The waitress brings our food, chicken strips and fries for Mirabella, and burgers for me and Adriano.
My daughter attacks her meal with the ferocity of someone who hasn't eaten properly in days.
My guilt over that multiplies and I’m reminded that she would have been better off without me.
Adriano continues to treat my arm. "You should have stitches," he mutters. “And probably penicillin.”
"It'll heal." I've had worse, but I don’t tell him that.
For some reason, I don’t want him to know how far I’ve fallen.
How hard our lives got when the Bratva showed up at my door, shocking me.
I still don’t know how they found me, or even why they’d want to at this point.
He finishes cleaning and bandaging my wounds and then sits back, watching me and Mirabella with dark, assessing eyes.
Does he see her resemblance to him?
Worried he might see too much, I turn away, scanning the street for black SUVs and men in dark coats.
At least with Adriano here, we have some protection.
"They won't try anything while I'm with you," Adriano says, reading my thoughts. "But they'll be looking. Why are the Bratva hunting you, Eva? What did you do?"
I take a sip of water, buying time, knowing he’ll keep asking. The truth is, I’m not quite sure what they want now, but I can guess based on what happened four years ago. "It's complicated."
"Everything in life is complicated." His jaw tightens. "At some point, that excuse runs out."
Mirabella looks up from her stuffing a fry in her mouth, ketchup on her chin. "Mama, can I have more juice?"
Adriano signals the waitress before I can respond, and I watch my daughter smile shyly at him.
"You can't keep running forever." Adriano’s gaze fixes on mine. "Let me help you."
If only it were that simple. “I don’t need your help.”
Mirabella looks between us, sensing the tension.
He shakes his head at my stupidity.
Had he not shown up, I’d be dead and who knows if Mirabella would have stayed hidden long enough for the men to leave.
Then what?
I’ve taught her how to get help, but today, who can anyone really trust?
But now I wonder how Adriano found me.
“Okay, how about you tell me where you have been for four years and why you let me believe you were dead?” His intense gaze tells me he’s not going to let this go.
I stare at my plate, weighing how much I can safely reveal. "Boston, at first."
He waits for me to continue, but I focus on helping Mirabella wipe ketchup from her hands. The silence stretches between us until he breaks it again.
"And what brought you to New Jersey?"
I sigh, unable to find a way out of this. "The Russians took me."
His entire body goes rigid. "When?"
"Three months ago." I try to swallow away the terror the memory brings back. "I managed to escape. We've been running ever since."
His jaw tightens. "What did they want?"
I shake my head. "Please, Adriano."
"Eva—"
"I can't." My voice breaks, and I hate myself for the weakness. "I just can't."
Adriano leans back, studying me, making me feel exposed, vulnerable. "You're going to trust me with your life, but not with the truth?"
"I'm asking you to let it go."
He laughs without humor. "When have you ever known me to let anything go?"
Never. That's what made him both wonderful and terrifying.
Mirabella tugs on my sleeve, her small voice a welcome interruption. "Can I have ice cream?"
"Not today, sweetheart." I brush a strand of hair from her face. "We need to go soon."
He leans forward, and I see the man many people fear. “Don’t think you’re running away again. Not until I have answers.”
I bristle at that. “Are you here to kidnap me too? How did you even find me?”
He sucks in a breath as he glances at Mirabella. “I was compelling a Bratva soldier to tell me what he was up to when he shared a tidbit he thought I might like to know.”
I understand his statement to mean he was torturing a Bratva soldier.
“I nearly cut his tongue out for lying and yet, I had to know. Turns out he was right. Now it's your turn. Why is the Bratva after you?”
“Not now.” I glance at Mirabella, hoping he’ll take it to mean I don’t want to explain in front of her.
I’m not sure he believes me, but he backs off and eats his burger.
When we finish, Mirabella tugs on my sleeve. “Where are we going now, Mama?”
“You’re coming with me.” Adriano’s voice is firm, brooking no argument.
Except, I’m not an innocent doormat anymore. “We need to find a new place—”
“The man's house?" she asks innocently.
“Yes,” he says. “I’ll keep you safe from the bad men.”
I wonder if he thinks endearing himself to her is the way to get to me. But that’s not why I’m wavering on running.
The truth is, I’m weak and tired, and it's true that we’re safer with him, at least at the moment, than without him.
And then there’s the fact that despite the years apart living alone as a single mom, I never stopped loving him.
As I watch him across the table, I want nothing more than to reach across and touch his face.
To tell him everything.
To trust that he could understand why I did what I did.
But I can't risk it.
Not when Mirabella's safety hangs in the balance.
Not when the truth would destroy whatever remnants of his feelings for me still exist.
We exit the café.
Adriano's hand rests at the small of my back, not quite restraining but clearly guiding.
His touch burns through my shirt, and I nearly moan in frustration that I can’t lean into him, back into his comfort and protection.
"My car's this way," he says, nodding toward a sleek black sedan.
My muscles tense as I calculate where and how I could get me and Mirabella away from him.
Or maybe I should leave her with him and run on my own.
The Bratva wants me, not her.
And Adriano would keep her safe even without knowing the truth about her, wouldn’t he?
Adriano's fingers tighten slightly against my back. "Don't," he murmurs against my ear. "Don’t even think of running away from me."
I stop walking, forcing him to halt beside me. Mirabella looks up, trying to assess what’s going on.
“You can’t tell me what to—”
"Is this the life you really want for her?" He gestures to Mirabella. "Always looking over your shoulder?"
His words hit exactly as intended.
How often am I consumed by guilt that my three-year-old knows more about escape routes than playgrounds?
That she's learned to stay quiet when strangers approach, to hide at the first sign of danger?
"Going with you doesn't solve anything. It makes everything more complicated."
"More complicated than this?" He gestures to my bandaged arms, the bruise darkening on my cheek. "Than having your daughter witness men trying to kill her mother?"
Mirabella presses her face against my leg, and the vulnerability in that gesture nearly breaks me.
She deserves better than this.
"I can protect you both,” he continues. “No one touches what belongs to a Dante."
I bristle at his phrasing. "We don't belong to anyone."
“Fucking hell—”
Mirabella’s eyes widen as she sinks closer to me.
Adriano looks down at her, giving her a wan smile. “Sorry. Your mother is infuriating.” He glances up at me. "I can protect you,” he says again.
“We’ve made it this far—”
His laugh cuts off my words. “Only because I showed up tonight. Do you plan to run forever? Because there is no place the Bratva can’t reach.”
My jaw tightens, hating that he’s right.
Anger narrows his eyes. “If I hadn't been there, you'd be dead in that alley. You're an idiot if you think they don't know about the kid."
"She has a name," I snap. "It's Mirabella."
"Fine." He steps closer, towering over me. "They'll sell Mirabella to the highest bidder. You think they're above trafficking children? Is that what you want? Do you hate me so much that you'd rather risk your daughter’s life than accept my help?"
I feel like I’m being attacked all over again, except this time, I deserve it.
He’s right that I’m stupid if I think the Bratva would leave Mirabella alone.
"I don't hate you." The words barely make it past the lump in my throat. "I never have."
His jaw tightens. "Then why run from me now?"
"Because it's better that way." I shift my weight as soreness grows. "It's better if you don't know anything…"
"Better for whom?"
I have no answer that wouldn't reveal too much.
Adriano shakes his head in frustration. "Not for your kid… for Mirabella."
He's right. As Mirabella's small hand clutches mine, I know that my only move right now is to go with him.
Mirabella comes first.
Always.
And Adriano, for all his darkness, all his danger, is her best chance at survival.
"Okay," I surrender. "We'll go with you."
Relief flashes across his face, and he ushers us toward his car.
I've spent four years running from this man, from the truth, from everything I've done.
Now I'm walking willingly back into his world, knowing it might destroy us both.
But for Mirabella, I would walk through fire. And trusting Adriano Dante might be exactly that.