Eva

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“Why did you tie me up?” I wonder aloud as I rub the tiredness from my eyes and memories invade my mind.

However, a banging on the door startles me, so I bound off the bed at the same time Carmine does. He smothers my mouth with his hand, and we tumble backward onto the mattress.

“That’s why I tied you up,” he whispers, lying on top of my naked front because my dress shirt is unbuttoned. “Because someone could knock on my door at any moment and I didn’t know how you would react. Will you obey me and stay quiet?”

I nod, sidetracked by his well-built chest pressing against mine, and I try to ignore his tantalizingly masculine scent which teases my nostrils.

Slowly, Carmine lifts his hand from my mouth.

“What do we do?” I blurt out, and a crease appears between his brows.

“You have to stay down here. Don’t make a sound until I come back.”

“Yes, okay,” I respond, and he pushes off the bed to throw on his pants and hike up the staircase.

Meanwhile, I stare at the rich, dark grey paneling on the wall and a fancy, huge flat screen, feeling empty when I remember last night. Everything after Brandon was hit by the car is like a vague nightmare. I was in a daze and revealed everything I knew to Carmine. But when I collapsed, he comforted me. He talked to me like I’m a woman worthy of conversation.

Even though I was miserable, he was the first man to ever make me feel treasured with the way he held me. It’s a sensation I’ve been curious about my whole life, and on the worst night of my existence, he soothed my demons of regret.

Which is why this morning, when I was in a dreamlike state and wasn’t fully awake, instead of thinking about the mess I’m in, I desired his touch. There’s something about the way he’s assisting me that makes me feel special. Although I’m afraid that might not be his intention.

Because why did he tie me up?

I get the sense that he trusts me to a certain degree, yet his contradictive behavior puzzles me. As I try to get my thoughts in order, I’m distracted when I hear raised voices and tiptoe to the bottom of the stairway.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone, brother?” a low male voice demands.

“I just woke up, Adriano.” Carmine clears his throat, pretending he was conked out. “Christ, it’s fucking early.”

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“I had to check something out,” Carmine answers.

“The entire night? Why didn’t you come back to the wedding?”

“Because it was late.”

“I swear to god, Carmine, ignore your boss’s calls again, and I’ll punish you like I do the rest of my organization. What exactly did you check out?”

Holy shit! His brother is the boss of the Syndicate.

“I had a lead on the escort,” Carmine says, and sweat forms on my palms.

“Oh. Well, that’s great.” Adriano’s tone becomes less incensed. “I actually called you because John informed me last night that Roman contacted him. Roman’s looking for our former Club 7 escort too.”

“Why?” Carmine asks.

“He claims he has unfinished business with her. His desperation in wanting her makes me think she might know details of our underworld, and I can’t have civilians who are a threat to me walking around. I lied and told him that if we find her, we’ll give her to him so that he doesn’t know we see him as an enemy now. But I’ll take care of her myself once I have her. What was the lead?”

The silence alarms me. Yet I don’t dare walk up the stairs to spy on them, and I don’t know if Carmine is going to hand me over. Maybe he’s signaling something to his brother. Panicked, I gaze around to look for a weapon to defend myself with until I hear him respond, “It was a false lead.”

“Fuck! I must interrogate her about Roman before he captures and kills her. In the meantime, you can’t piss off Gwen either, so keep her happy.”

Carmine grunts.

I make a face, and it’s quiet for a moment before his boss adds, “You focus on tracking the escort. Ask Henry for help if you need him.”

“Okay,” Carmine confirms, and I hear footsteps moving further away and a click, probably the front door opening.

“Call me as soon as you have an update.” The door closes, and then it’s deathly silent for five seconds until I hear a loud, “Fuck!”

Oh, dear god. I’m fucked.

Anxiously, I shift on my feet, but Carmine doesn’t come down, so I sneak up the stairs. Carmine lives in a luxurious contemporary apartment, and the large living room, which is decorated in black and white, is spotless. In the morning daylight, the floor-to-ceiling windows give a panoramic view of Lake Michigan since the long black curtains are hanging open. I continue forward, past the U-shaped sofa that’s covered in immaculate white fabric, and at the far end of the room is a white wall with an arched doorway on the left that leads into the kitchen. The wall has a fireplace built into it, and a giant silver flat screen TV hangs above the hearth. This is the most exquisite room I’ve ever seen. I’m confronted with the major differences in our existence as I button up the dress shirt that’s even of the richest fabric, and I feel so small all of a sudden.

“I told you to wait downstairs.” Carmine’s standing in the arched doorway, holding a mug.

“You didn’t come back.”

“I presume you heard everything?” He moves closer to me and sets his mug on the long coffee table.

“Yes, I did. What are you going to do with me?”

“You have to understand that we’re on opposite sides. You’re an opponent of the Syndicate, as you’ve heard, and whatever happened here doesn’t change that,” he replies, saddening me because I sensed a bond developing between us. “If there’s any important information you’re withholding from me, now would be the time to tell me.”

“I’ve been honest and told you everything I know. I’m just a wh—”

He raises both brows in warning to not call myself a whore.

“...a nobody. Your boss can interrogate me about Roman and he will get nothing more, and if he doesn’t kill me, then Roman will. Please help me.”

“I don’t know if I can. I need to take care of my business with Roman first. If you go out there now and either Roman or a Syndicate member finds you, then it’s out of my hands. You’re smart enough to piece together that I’m in a precarious position for covering everything up yesterday for you; I could’ve handed you over already.”

His biceps bulge as I glance at the tattoo beneath his elbow and read Adriano, and I grasp why he’s helping me; he understands sibling love yet is conflicted because he’s in this risky situation. He works for his brother, and the framed pictures, tattoo, and lavish apartment betray that this is a close family with enormous power and money.

“I know; that’s why I didn’t understand why you tied me up. I do trust you and will listen. I just want to bury my brother. I need to say goodbye and get out of this mess, away from this nightmare.”

“If you want out, then you need to listen to me. You have to stay here until I’ve arranged everything for Brandon and concluded my business with Roman.”

“How long will that take?”

“I don’t know, Eva.”

“And after that?”

“After that, you should leave the Loop because Roman will search for you for a long time. You can’t ever go home.”

My future is bleak, but so is my present, and currently, nothing is registering, except the fact that I want to say farewell to my little brother.

“Do you promise me you’ll handle Brandon with respect?” I ask, inching closer to him and lifting my hand, yet I lower it, hesitant to touch him.

“I promise,” he vows, and I’m appeased because Carmine doesn’t make empty promises.

I cling to the help he offers for the reason that I can’t get out of this jam by myself.

Brusquely, he draws back, creating physical distance, making me assume that he’s affected by me and not as immune as I thought.

“Can I trust you to stay here and not try anything? If you leave and someone catches you outside, I can’t help you anymore. And I’ll deny anything you claim to the Syndicate,” he warns, reminding me of my place.

“I have nowhere to go, Carmine.”

He studies me until he seems to accept my compliance and walks to the side to a wooden credenza, sliding open a drawer and taking out a phone. When he hands it to me, I look at it and then at him with a raised brow.

“It’s a burner phone. It’s your phone now. I’m going to call you on this one, and you must always answer. Do you understand?”

“Um...okay.”

“My number is in the contact list. If you need me, you call me. Do not venture out under any circumstances. My boss and other family members of the Syndicate live in this building as well, and you can’t let them see you,” he informs, divulging more personal information, which shocks yet intrigues me. “Did you have any important documents at your home? Where’s your driver’s license?”

“I had my phone and driver’s license in my bag that’s at Roman’s mansion, so I have nothing except the dress I wore yesterday.”

He seems taken aback, narrowing his eyes before he shakes his head and says, “I’ll be back later. There’s food in the fridge; don’t forget to eat.”

Who is this man who can be a total ass yet enchantingly protective at times?

My amazement is directed at him, but I don’t utter a syllable as he goes into the bedroom.

A strange connection is forming between us, whether he wants to admit it or not. It didn’t even start last night, the one night I’ll never forget but will always regret. It started last weekend, and somehow, now I’m hiding with Carmine once again.

Glumly, I tread to the windows, watching the sun coming up as it bathes Lake Michigan in its golden glow. The view is glorious, but today, my sorrow prevents me from seeing the beauty in anything. Although I have support for now, when it comes down to it, I’m alone without my little brother.

After a quick shower, Carmine returns upstairs, dressed to the nines in a navy designer suit, his hair perfectly combed back and not a trace of exhaustion around his fetching, unshaven face.

He grabs his keys from the coffee table. “I need to go. Answer the phone when I call you,” he orders and leaves, adamantly avoiding my gaze that follows him out the door.

Unsure, I stand in his extravagant apartment, where I feel like I don’t belong, while dark clouds hang over my head. My stomach growls, but I can’t bring myself to eat. I keep reliving the previous evening, and I can’t believe Brandon is actually gone. It doesn’t feel real; however, the emptiness spreading inside me keeps reminding me that it is. Shifting to the sofa, I lie down on it and simply stare into space.

After wallowing in melancholy, I manage to shower, but not having anything to wear, I get boxers and another dress shirt from Carmine’s walk-in closet, which is bigger than any apartment I’ve ever lived in. And I don’t even need socks because the floors are heated.

My surroundings are surreal, and I wonder how rich the Syndicate must be if they all live in one of the most expensive high-rises in the Loop. Moreover, how powerful must they be?

My mind is all over the place, and ultimately, all I do the entire day is lie around with a heavy heart. Along with grief, rage grows inside me too, bitterness toward Roman and Gwen and life in general – because they will never be punished for killing my brother. I’m not naïve, and our justice system doesn’t result in justice. It’s a false sense of justice that, in reality, doesn’t exist. Only the rich and powerful count, and they rule the world.

Minutes of wallowing turn into hours, and I don’t come back to life until around dinnertime when a key turns in the lock, and I hop off the sofa, quickly drying my tears as Carmine enters with a brown bag in hand.

His eyes scan up my bare legs and blue dress shirt before he tilts his head to the side. “I do have other clothes besides dress shirts.”

I fiddle with the hem. “Nothing fits. Your sweats fall off my hips.”

His gaze lingers at my curves as he closes the distance between us. “You okay? No one came by, right?”

“No.”

“Did you eat?”

“I’m not hungry,” I reply just as my stomach gives a loud groan.

He arcs a brow knowingly but refrains from making a smart-ass comment as he places the bag on the coffee table. Shedding his suit jacket, he drapes it over the tall back of the couch but disappears behind the wall into the kitchen to return a moment later with dishes, which he also sets on the table. Then he takes out containers, and I see that it’s something I’ve never eaten.

Curious, I observe him while he removes the plastic tops from the containers and plates up. “I brought sushi.”

As he sits on the couch, I follow and he places a heavy black platter in my lap. Even his china screams wealth.

“Eat.”

“What’s this?” I look down at rolls of rice wrapped in green stuff that are filled with something pink in the center.

“It’s fish. Salmon and tuna. Just taste,” he says as he leans forward and uses the chopsticks to pick his sushi roll from his plate, eating an entire piece. Then he glances at me, and it looks like he’s hiding a grin. “It’s not poison.”

I scrutinize my food as if it’s going to attack me. The green looks unappetizing. I’d rather have a burger or deep-dish pizza. “Oh, I know it’s not poison. You don’t need to go through this much trouble to get rid of me.”

Carmine laughs, a low rumbling that resounds from his chest, and it makes him even more striking. I frown at him in hesitation as his smile grows wider.

“Come on. Try something new,” he urges.

“The green stuff isn’t the wasabi that was around the peanuts I ate, is it?”

“No, you’re safe.”

“So you truly don’t want to poison me,” I tease, reaching for the food but chickening out.

“I didn’t think you’d be such a wuss.” He seems amused and shifts closer to me, his leg brushing mine.

Without preamble, he takes one piece of sushi between his chopsticks and brings it up. Our eyes lock as I open my mouth and he feeds it to me. It’s a huge bite yet delicious. Not too spicy, and the rice tastes a little sweet. While I chew, my expression apparently betrays me because Carmine leans back as he holds up his plate with his fingertips and crosses his ankle over his knee.

After I swallow, I say, “This is so good.” And instantly, my stomach stops growling. Grabbing some chopsticks from the table, I try to hold them, but they drop from my grasp.

Carmine unexpectedly bends forward again and grips my fingers, placing them an inch apart. “Hold them like this.”

I’m touched by his gentle behavior, yet I shake it off, realizing it’s just because he needs me to obey him.

As I stuff more sushi into my mouth, I make a mess when some of it falls off the sticks onto the couch, and when I peek sideways, I see Carmine scowling at the grains of rice on the pristine fabric.

“I’ll clean it,” I comment, making his gaze shoot up, so I add, “I know you like things neat and organized, Carmine.”

His eyes widen and then thin, as if he’s taken completely off guard by my announcement.

Since he rarely shows his emotions, I continue, tickled, “I already noticed it when we were at Roman’s mansion, remember? And there isn’t a speck of dust in this apartment.” Then I bring another piece of sushi to my lips, but before I eat it, I probe, “What’s up with you and cleanliness?” Leaning forward, I seize a napkin off the table and wipe up the rice, detecting no spots on his sofa.

The corner of his mouth quirks up as he points his chopsticks to my food. “Just eat.”

“With pleasure,” I mumble as gracefully as possible, and I catch him smiling as he looks down; it’s a smile I’m beginning to enjoy far too much.

For a few moments, Carmine has made me forget the gloomy circumstances of my life, and he’s not asking me endless questions about my state of mind. In turn, I don’t dare to ask what the status of my situation is. I’m already too overwhelmed by everything else, and meanwhile, he’s letting me deal with my anguish in my own way while I’m in his home. I can’t deny that it makes me feel special.

When we finish supper, Carmine switches on the TV, which, luckily, diverts me as he clears our plates. I lie back on the couch, changing channels until I find a movie as I hear Carmine walking around his kitchen, giving me space. Now that I’ve eaten, I feel a bit better and I’m full, so I close my eyes for a second.

***

Apparently, I dozed off, because all of a sudden, my eyelids fly open and I look beside me for Brandon before I realize that he’s gone and I’m in an unfamiliar environment. The living room is dark, except for the fireplace that’s still lit, cloaking the room in warmth, and a soft blanket is draped over me. The clouds are veiling and unveiling the moon, and it’s silent. Adrift in a lonely sea of emotions, I get up, wander across the giant living room, and go down the stairs, seeing Carmine asleep in bed. Seeking comfort and companionship to ease my sorrow, I move to him and climb under the covers.

Without warning, he rolls over and throws his arm around me as he nuzzles my neck, just like he did the previous night. I lie there, motionless, but his breathing stays steady, so he’s still in dreamland. I rest my hand on his and curl into the heat of his body, nearly naked in only boxer briefs.

It’s the most treasured I’ve ever felt as I attempt to escape the harsh reality of my life.

***

On Monday morning, I wake up in Carmine’s now-familiar embrace in the exact same position I was in when I fell asleep. His strong arm is latched around me, and his arousal is poking my behind as I stroke the names tattooed right beneath his elbow. I’ve never kissed him. I haven’t fucked him. But my most intimate moments are with this man who, at times, is such an ass to me, who still sees me as the enemy, yet who ignites sensations I’d want to explore under normal circumstances. However, these are anything but normal circumstances, so I revel in these few minutes when he holds me before he wakes up.

I arch my back slightly while he noses his way up my neck, growling so low I feel it vibrating in his chest as he pulls me into him. The dress shirt I’m wearing is bunched up around my hips and his large palm dances its way up my front. When he clutches my breast, I whimper and he suddenly stops, most likely realizing what we’re doing for the second morning in a row, although he keeps gripping it in distracting ways while our heavy breathing fills the room. Neither of us moves, and I wait in anticipation of what he’ll do next. But then, as always, Carmine rolls away from me and I miss the warmth of his strong arms.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see him getting up, and without looking at me, he strides into the bathroom, commanding, “Don’t ever come to my bed again without an invite.”

“I’m sorry,” I offer, rejected, hoping that the earnest sadness in my voice stops him.

For a second, he acknowledges me and meets my eyes. Then he strips his boxers and steps into the shower, washing as I lie there on my back and watch him. He doesn’t shave and evaluates me too as he crosses the room to the walk-in closet and comes out ten minutes later in a charcoal grey tailored suit with a maroon tie.

“Go shower. I’m picking you up later.”

“I’m going out? I don’t have any clothes, except for the dress I had on when I got here, and I couldn’t find it yesterday.”

“I threw it away,” he answers, fastening his cufflinks with a smooth flick of his fingers. “I’ll get you some clothes.” Before I can reply with my size, he’s ascending the staircase and is out the door.

I shake my head because our interaction is the strangest thing I’ve ever experienced, yet it’s not uncomfortable. And it’s obviously weighing heavily on his mind as well. It’s as if we don’t even know how to respond to each other, but I sense a kinship has formed. I’m probably going to end up hurt, but I don’t care.

So after showering, I wait for Carmine.

***

Around noon, the front door opens as I sit on the couch, staring outside and feeling lost because all that waiting has only given me time to grasp that I have no idea how to continue with my life.

“Hey. Here.” Carmine hands me two Nordstrom shopping bags while typing a message on his phone.

Setting them beside me on the couch, I peek inside – everyone knows this department store is for the upper class and has prices I could never afford. To my surprise, the bags are stuffed full. First, I take out two pairs of jeans, some T-shirts and sweaters, and two long-sleeve cotton dresses, along with black winter stockings. Then I discover about five sets of matching lace underwear and a canvas tote with a red and white striped lining. From the other bag, I remove a white wool A-line coat with a belt and three shoe boxes, which I arrange next to the other items on the couch after I stand up to make room. Snatching off the lids one by one, I reveal a pair of brown suede ankle boots, black ballet flats, and bejeweled sandals. Everything is so beautiful, yet the designer tags astound me.

I look at Carmine, who’s busy with his phone, and not wanting to sound ungrateful, I mutter, “Carmine, this is too much. I’ll never be able to pay you back for this.”

His head whips up and a wrinkle forms between his brows. “I did promise you new panties, remember,” he reminds me of our first night together in Roman’s mansion when he ripped my underwear. “You need clothes, so they’re yours. I don’t care about the money,” he dismisses my comment and starts typing again. “It’s cold outside, so put on something warm. We’re leaving in a few minutes.”

“Did you pick all of this out yourself?”

“No, my assistant did.”

Completely stunned, but hoping that we’re going to take care of Brandon, I change clothes right there. After I shed the dress shirt, I take a bra from the sofa and secure it around me, peeking sideways to find Carmine’s gaze devouring me, causing a stirring in my belly before he turns his attention back to his phone. I throw on jeans, a sweater, and the boots, bending to tie them, and then slip into the white winter coat. Hurriedly, I put everything else back into the bags and set them neatly beside the couch, smirking at Carmine, whose expression softens. Lastly, I grab the phone and toss it into the tote bag, which is my new purse. Immediately, I feel more normal in regular clothes.

Carmine moves to the door, holding it open for me, and we exit together. The entire ride down on the elevator, he’s quiet and stands in front of me. When the doors slide open, he steals a glimpse around before leading the way toward the parking garage, and I wonder where we’re going.

***

Twenty minutes later, I follow Carmine through the open gate of a cemetery across town with an overhead sign that reads Heaven’s Pond. As snowflakes begin to fall from the grey clouds shrouding the sky, we pass rows of burial markers until we’re at the far end. Carmine stops and I almost bump into his back before he shows me a square, white marble stone with the inscription: Brandon Orian. Until we meet again. Even the dates are engraved.

“You did all of this in two days? How do you know his full name and birthday?” I ask suspiciously, because he told me he never knew about Brandon – since he has our mother’s last name, I presumed.

“My soldier handled everything at Orchard Children’s Institute and got Brandon’s personal information for me. His room was cleaned and he canceled your agreement with the institute. You had made a payment for the upcoming month, so you were refunded two thousand dollars, which will be deposited into your account.”

Wow, really! I release a breath because for a moment, I was concerned that I might be trusting the wrong person. Then I’m riveted by an arrangement of purple and white flowers covering the grave.

“But you should keep the money. For the clothes. And...how much did it cost to bury him here?”

“It’s your money, and I told you not to worry about paying me,” he repeats in a tone that holds no room for argument, but I unmistakably recognize the tenderness of his actions.

Clutching my chest, I go down on my haunches and swipe a dusting of snow off the stone. It’s ice-cold, but I don’t notice it, pressing my palm to the headstone, whispering, “My sweet Brandon, I’m sorry everyone in this life failed you. First, our mom and then me.” My vision starts to blur. “I miss you, and I don’t know what to do. I’m lost without you. But...but I’ll be okay. I promise you. I hope you’re okay too, wherever you are.”

Tears are streaming down my cheeks when, all of a sudden, I feel Carmine in a similar position behind me. I lean back against him as his arms snake around my middle, keeping me steady while I sob. His mouth is at my temple, blowing warm breath over my face, drying my tears in the process. Then he loosens my grip from the stone and folds his hand around my mine, guiding it against my chest and rubbing my cold fingers before they freeze.

I look sideways and admit, “I have nothing of his, no pictures; they’re all on my old phone. Not one item of his to remember him by.”

“You don’t need pictures or items to remember him.” Our entangled hands press against my aching heart. “You’ll always remember him, inside.”

I truly want that to be true, so I ask, “Do you believe in God, Carmine?”

“Yes,” he answers with conviction.

“Do you think he’s with your God?”

“Yes.” He peers up into the sky before meeting my eyes again. “He’s with people who’ll take care of him.”

Focusing back on the burial spot, I say to my brother, “If there’s a God, then I hope you’re with Him in Heaven, happy. And one day, we’ll be together forever.” I bring my fingers to my lips, kiss them, and then touch the marble stone, imprinting my last kiss on my brother before I rest back against Carmine again, seeking the comfort he offers.

Snowflakes scatter onto us, and he brushes a few from my hair while we remain silent and he allows me to mourn for as long as I wish. While I can’t look on the bright side, he sits in the dark with me. He let me bury my brother, and I’ll treasure it always.

Turning my head so we’re nose-to-nose, I look at him and brown collides with grey. “Thank you so much.”

He doesn’t say a word as his gaze drops to my lips, the tip of his nose trailing down mine. And I don’t know which one of us inches closer, but before I know it, the corner of his mouth is touching the corner of mine, creating a hot fog of our mingling breath. Then I stroke my lips over his and pull back.

Carmine mutters a hoarse curse before one hand cups the back of my head and he pulls me into a searing kiss, our lips crashing together as he forces my mouth open with his tongue. He moves abruptly so that his hand slides down my back to squeeze my ass and press me further into him with shocking urgency. Through the fine fabric of the wool coat, I feel him swelling, becoming shockingly hard. His other hand furls up my temple and weaves into my hair as I grip his thigh, feeling the air hitting my cheek. Then his palm is suddenly resting against my throat, tilting up my chin as he angles my head, all the while urging my lips apart, inducing a fever. This man has honed a sinful kiss to perfection. I’m at his mercy as our tongues swirl, and he squeezes my behind as he deepens it, penetrating just enough to give me what I need. And I want more of this blissful spiral to slay my current demons. When I turn a little, he plants a hand in the cold dirt to steady us, and we stop in the midst of what amounted to climbing each other.

Carmine rises so quickly that I stagger forward, but he rights me by placing his hands on my shoulders as I stand up too. His eyes are glazed and stormy. His breathing is a low rumble, but then his phone vibrates in his pocket and as he grabs it, I see a message and Gwen’s name. I make a face, not knowing the extent of his interest in her.

“We should go back to my apartment,” he speaks quietly, surveying the area.

“Okay.” I look at the white marble stone one more time, wipe my nose, and walk away, saying my final goodbye to the one boy in this life who will always be my little brother.

Unexpectedly, Carmine holds me back by my arm. “Wait. We’re being followed.”

When I glance past him, I only notice random pedestrians, but Carmine takes my hand in his and strides forward hurriedly.

“By whom?” I ask, dread crawling up my spine when he reaches inside his jacket for his gun as he scans the area with lethal scrutiny.