Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Home. She was talking about Italy. Naples would be my home now.
My belly fluttered, equal parts trepidation and excitement. I would start a new life with Massimo, but I was also entering the unknown. I would have to rely on him to introduce me to his friends, who were all likely to be criminals. But I knew none of them would ever harm me. I belonged to Massimo.
I leaned into him, conveying my trust and acceptance. I would never make him feel ashamed of who he was. Life had been cruel to him, and he’d done what was necessary to survive.
I’m not a good man. The memory of his anguished words in the wake of his nightmare made my heart squeeze. Massimo might lead a dangerous life, but he wasn’t evil. I would remind him of that every day.
“I’ll leave you two alone to make plans for your trip,” Carmen announced, the matter handled. “I can arrange an overnight flight for you tonight. Will you be ready by then?”
“Yes,” Massimo replied. “Thank you, Carmen. I owe you a debt.”
She gave an imperious wave of her hand again. “We’re friends, Massimo. You don’t owe me anything.”
She sounded like she meant it. Stefano was cold and calculating, but his wife was softer, if no less formidable.
“Take care, Evelyn.” She offered me a warm smile. “Massimo will give you my number, and you can reach out to me at any time.”
“Thank you.” My throat was strangely tight.
Friends were a rarity in my life. I’d always kept myself emotionally isolated because social situations were safer that way; I couldn’t be hurt by anyone’s indifference if I didn’t allow myself to become attached to them. George had been the one exception, and even then, I’d never allowed myself to rely on him. I’d supported him, not the other way around. It hadn’t been reciprocal.
A whole new world was opening up before me, and it was all because of Massimo. He’d stormed into my life and shown me that I could be vulnerable. He’d proven to me that he would protect me in every way, including shielding my heart.
Carmen said her goodbye to Massimo too, and then she swept out of the suite, giving us privacy.
“Pick out what clothes you want to take with you,” Massimo encouraged, guiding me toward the bedroom. “We can buy more when you get to Naples. I’ll take you shopping.”
My brows lifted. “You’d go shopping with me?”
His lips curved in a wicked smirk. “I insist. I want to see you try everything on. I like buying pretty things for you.”
My cheeks heated, and I barely managed to shrug off my budding lust. “What you’ve bought for me while we’ve been staying here in Mexico City is more than enough. I’ll just pack it all.”
His dark brows drew together in warning. “I thought we had agreed that you would let me spoil you.”
Unease stirred in my belly, an echo of lifelong distrust. “When did I agree to that? I love the beautiful clothes that you’ve bought for me, and I’m grateful for them, but I don’t need more. I’m usually very reserved in my style choices, Massimo. This isn’t me.”
His jaw firmed, and he tipped his chin back in challenge. “Why not? Why can’t it be you? Silks and jewels suit you, farfallina. My woman deserves the finer things in life. You will have every pretty little thing you desire. Nothing is out of reach for us.”
Us. My heart tugged toward his, as though we were connected by an invisible tether.
I closed the short distance between us and wrapped my arms around him, tucking my body close to his. He immediately returned my embrace, both of us craving constant contact.
“Is this still about your stepfather?” he rumbled, a slight edge to the question. I knew the anger was directed at the cruel, callous man who’d raised me. “You said he made you feel like you owed him for providing you with necessities. I will never treat you that way. I swear.”
“I know,” I promised. I didn’t want him to think I doubted his goodness and sincerity. “But it’s more than that.” The confession was drawn from a place so deep in my soul that I hadn’t even consciously known it was lurking at the core of me. “I told you about how my real dad left when I was four,” I began. “I should hate him for that, but the few memories I have of him are good.
“One day—about six months before he left—I said I was sick because I wanted to spend time with him. He must’ve known I wasn’t actually sick, but he called out from work and spent the day with me. He took me out for pancakes, and then we went to the zoo. He bought me a stuffed giraffe. I slept with it until I was twelve. My mom found out that I’d kept something he’d given to me, and she threw it away. I felt like she was destroying a part of me, even though I’d thought about burning the thing myself a thousand times.”