Eva

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I’m still seated on the couch when I see on my phone that’s it’s nearing eleven p.m. Emotions hover inside me, tightening my throat as they wave against one another, intensifying each sense of grief and melancholy. And I berate myself because I’ve traded one mess for another.

“Oh, Brandon, I’m screwing things up more by falling for him,” I whisper aloud with a heavy heart right before the door swings open. I come to my feet in such a rush that I’m surprised I don’t stumble.

Carmine’s face holds no expression, his eyes as calm as the sea before a storm. When he shuts the door and prowls toward me, I scoot back because of the chaotic feeling his presence provokes.

“Are you afraid of me?” he questions in a low tone, forcing me backward toward the windows.

“Yes.”

“Do you fear me more than you do Roman?” His voice is flat but sharp as he looks at my lips.

“Yes,” I reply, and he snaps his gaze up to my curious stare as my back hits the window, and I’m not able to assess his brooding mood.

He stops right in front of me and there’s a pregnant pause. “Why?”

I fist my hands to avoid reaching out to touch him. “Because I want you, and right now, I don’t care who knows.” Because his raw masculinity has enthralled me since I first laid eyes on him, even though he was with someone else. “But you have Gwen and your precious watch that apparently bonds you two,” I blurt out, incapable of keeping it inside.

Carmine tilts his head to the side, planting a palm against the window and retorting, “That damn watch now reminds me of you.”

“Then why did you leave to go to Gwen? Do you not want me, Carmine?” I dare to ask, because not knowing will drive me crazy.

“You know I do,” he speaks in such a way that his admission sounds like an accusation. “I want you because you’re goddamn interesting and beautiful. You’re a survivor and never ask for help. I want you because I see you.”

A piece of my heart is stolen with his statement and I fear he won’t ever give it back. Never has a man made me feel as if I was worthy, an equal, a woman who deserves protection and help. No man has ever been there for me.

I gave almost everything away when I had to work as an escort, including my pride and my principles, but I held on to my heart until Carmine said those words.

His chest rises and falls while an invisible thread pulls us closer, the tips of our noses touching.

I tentatively place my palms on his shirt, muster up all my courage, and ask against his mouth, “Were you with her? Did you kiss her?”

For an agonizing moment, I’m afraid he won’t answer until he responds, “No, I didn’t touch her.”

Then, all of a sudden, he lifts me up in his arms, his palms covering my behind as he slams me against the floor-to-ceiling window. Eagerly, I hook my ankles behind him and weave my hands into his thick brown hair as he crashes his mouth onto mine. Need fills me, and I curse my weakness for him. Electrifying pulses rake through me when he fervently spears his tongue around mine, seeking a thorough kiss. A kiss that bleeds with emotions only he can awaken in me. Carmine’s beginning to mean something to me. It’s stupid. It’s wrong. Yet I don’t stop him.

“I don’t want to touch her,” he says between drugging kisses. “I want you. I want to spread your legs wide and shove my cock inside your pussy.”

His words spur me on, yet I can only moan in reaction to his admission.

He breaks apart from me just long enough to wrench up my dress and fling it over my head before he removes my bra with a flick of his wrist, leaving me in only my panties. I tug his charcoal jacket off his arms while he grinds his growing arousal against my center, and when I rip open his dress shirt, making the buttons clank on the hardwood floor, Carmine grins at me wickedly as he unfastens his pants.

I watch his erection twitch, and when he grabs himself in his fist, his muscles flex. The sight of it makes me moan, the way he handles himself, pumping so roughly while he ogles my breasts before he sucks my nipple.

Swiftly, he slides me down his body and wheels me around to face the red and yellow lights of Chicago beneath us. While kissing my shoulder, he kicks off his shoes and discards his pants and boxers before guiding my arms up and planting my palms against the window, nipping my earlobe. Then he skids his hands down my sides and over the curve of my hips to take off my panties, and when I step out of them, his fingers dig into my ass while he bites me there.

Whimpering, I arch my back and he flattens his tongue against me, massaging my ass cheeks before he smacks one.

“Ah, Carmine,” I moan.

In reaction, he buries his face into me, tasting and sucking while I squirm.

“Oh, god, Carmine, lick it,” I plead, and he pulls my hips back as he cements his mouth over my clit.

Ferociously, he laps, making me shiver before he scurries back up behind me, licking a path up my curving spine. Then he kicks my feet apart while pushing his muscular, naked front against my back, his arousal poking between my legs.

Carmine guides one of my hands to his hardening shaft, and I grab the length as he presses it to my entrance. Slipping his arm beneath mine, he reaches around and squeezes the soft flesh of my breast, groaning while I glide the head of his erection over my core.

A tingle shoots to my stomach when he talks dirty, “Rub it all over your pussy, sweetheart. That’s it; get it good and slick.”

He sucks the side of my neck and then slams my palm against the window to its original position, keeping it there as I catch his half-lidded eyes in the reflection, his hair a perfect mess from my fingers that have tousled the strands. Clasping my waist while the tip of his dick prods my center, Carmine shoves inside me, forcing me onto my tiptoes.

“Kiss me,” he says, driving in and out twice.

I turn my head and he captures my lips, his fingers tangling with mine as he kisses the side of my mouth, peppering more along my jawline when he starts hammering into me. As I bow my back, Carmine takes me against the window above the twinkling skyline of Lake Michigan.

I watch him as he grunts and surges into me, his entire front rubbing up my back as he pushes in so deep it hurts in pleasure. Then he grips my throat, letting out a guttural groan, his mouth at my temple while I brace myself against the glass.

“So wet...so tight,” Carmine whispers in a ragged tone, his arousal planted deep inside.

An erotic, fearful thrill shoots through me as he kisses a path up my neck. His other hand is everywhere with each lunge and withdrawal, his palm slithering over my hip, to my stomach, and downward to circle me between my legs. My head falls back against his shoulder as he holds me captive by my throat and cups my center, our bodies slapping together as he circles his hips, violently claiming me from behind, growling, “Eva. My god. Eva,” while I ache for it as sweat drips down my skin.

He shifts back slightly, pulling my hips out so that I’m bent forward, palms still pressed against the window as he locks eyes with me in the reflection. Then he weaves a hand into my hair, tugging my head back roughly, and my back arches as Carmine drives into my drenched core with punishing speed until I pant his name around a breathless whisper. My body pulsates against him in a blazing explosion, and I come hard, sobbing as I quiver in ecstasy.

I feel him swelling as he pushes me up against the window again and growls into my neck, pouring into me with a sensational thrust as I struggle for breath, still blindsided by an orgasm like I’ve never had before.

I love being held by him as he keeps me in his embrace and we stare outside at the dark sky that’s alight with white stars. For a long, hushed moment, he stays inside me, his face buried in my neck when, to my surprise, he places a kiss to my nape – a tender gesture that makes me feel cherished – and then he slips out.

Without a word, he collects our clothes, entangles our hands, and tows me with him to the bedroom where he tosses everything onto the sofa. Sitting down on the bed, he glances at the floor, so I stand in front of him.

“Carmine?” I breathe, but he doesn’t look up. Knowing not to sleep in his bed without an invite, I whisper, “I’ll leave you to it then.” And I turn around.

“Don’t.” He snares my wrist, twirls me back around, and pulls me to him. His hands brace my hips while he presses his forehead against my belly and whispers, “Don’t leave.”

I lace my fingers in his dark, unruly hair, and his arms sneak around my middle before he guides me diagonally onto the mattress, resting his head on my stomach and looping his arm around my waist.

A smile tugs at my lips as he cuddles me for once, and I realize I’m not tumbling anymore; I’ve fallen. Hard. Yet I don’t dwell on it and doze off while Carmine clutches me as if he’ll never let go – the first man who’s ever held me after sex.

***

I wake up nestled in the crook of Carmine’s arm – the way I’ve woken up for four days, ever since I’ve been in his apartment. I’m deliciously sore and less sad than previous days. Peering up, I note his eyes are open, fixed on the ceiling.

However, while I’m climbing onto cloud nine, there’s still an undercurrent of torment visible in his whiskey gaze that seems to have only deepened since last night, and I’m not sure why.

“Good morning.” I smile cautiously, the sheet rustling as I roll to my back, leaving my palm on his solid abs.

“Bon giorno,” he says in a sleep-laden, Italian tone and then switches to English quickly. “Morning.”

“Did you not sleep well?” I wonder out loud.

He’s silent as he glances at my hand, so I remove it because my touch seems to upset him.

“What’s wrong, Carmine?”

When he scrubs a palm down his face, I sit up, clutching the ivory sheets to my cleavage.

“Are you worried about what we should do now?” I ask, causing his brows to climb halfway up his forehead.

“Again, with the we. There’s still no we,” he retorts with a strange expression on his face, amazement battling with indecisiveness.

“What do you mean?” Doesn’t what happened change everything between us? It does for me; I’m genuinely involved with him.

Carmine produces an indecipherable sound like a grunt before shifting off the bed. “We’re still on opposite sides. This”—he waves between us angrily—“can never become known. You're still being hunted by Roman and my Syndicate. I’ve lied to my family!” he snarls as if he can’t believe it and looks at me with accusation.

I get up on my knees, not wanting him to make me feel small, and defend, “What opposite side am I on? I’m not Roman’s ally! Why do you do this? You help me, make me attached to you, and then you pull away immediately! What are you to me then? My enemy, my friend, or my lover? You keep switching.”

“What am I to you? We barely know each other,” he throws in, and I send him a glare. “This is just sex.”

Currently, he’s everything to me, my life raft. “Don’t make this about sex...I know you. Like you see me, I see you too. I know you’ve done things, but you’re a man who takes care of his family. Your tattoo is the names of your parents, brother, and sister. You need order, so you put people and things in neat little boxes to keep your life organized. You act like an ass to keep your conquests at bay, but for some reason, you let me get close to you. You’re attentive. At least, you have been to me. There’s a soft side to you that you only dare to show me behind these walls. You’re sly and always hide behind a mask when you interact with everyone, except me, I believe,” I finish.

“We’re not dating here like normal people, Eva!”

“Then why does it feel like we are?”

His brown eyes become enormous. “We’re not. Nothing good can come of this! It’s not like I have a choice anyway. Even if I wanted to date you, it’s not possible.”

“There’s always a choice.”

Carmine lets out a dark sigh before he grabs my shoulders. “No, Eva. I’m a Syndicate man. Betrayal is punished with death. No exceptions. It’s how my ruthless world reigns supreme. If what I did ever comes out, it’ll result in death – for you and me. Do you realize that?”

At last, the reason for his torment is revealed, and I feel the blood drain from my face. “No, I didn’t realize that. I-I only thought it would give you some problems, but not this...He’s your brother.”

“He’s my boss, my mafia boss.”

“But we haven’t done anything against your Syndicate.”

“Yes, we have. We’ve lied and omitted things from Adriano so that I could protect you. The Syndicate’s still looking for you, and they found the children’s institute. I’ve lied to Adriano by telling him that your brother has been checked out. Even though I’m not fully positive I can trust you, I’ve been acting without thinking! Sacred trust I have with my brother has been broken, and he will break us both if he finds out.”

“I didn’t ask for your protection. I didn’t ask you to betray anyone.”

Delicately, he releases me. “No, you didn’t, but no one will believe you.” His voice is somber, reflective, and I despise hearing the censure in his tone.

“Couldn’t you have said this before we slept together?” As I sit back on my feet, irritation whips through me, and a flash of remorse clouds his features for an instant. My voice drops to a whisper, “You made me like you. You made me one of your women.”

As we stare at each other in bristling silence, I swear he forces his face to harden in order not to disclose his truest emotions. His harsh sigh echoes through the room, and apparently, we’ve reached an impasse, because he turns on his heel and strides into the bathroom where I watch him shower with his back to me through the glass partition.

Was this only lust? It definitely wasn’t for me. Despite the fact that I’ve known him for barely a month, he’s the one person I’ve been closest to, besides Brandon. In actuality, it feels like much longer.

After Carmine steps out of the shower and dries himself, he tucks the towel low around his hips and moves across the room to his walk-in closet.

I hear a vibrating noise and skulk to the sofa where our clothes from yesterday are slung, and I take out his phone, seeing a message.

Gwen: I’m looking forward to tonight.

He’s meeting her? I’ve been so caught up in my grief and infatuation that I seem to have forgotten the fact that he’s a womanizer, and there’s obviously more between them than he told me. Have I completely misinterpreted Carmine?

Before I return to the bed, I hastily stash his phone back where it was just as he comes out in another navy designer suit and grabs it.

Allowing my jealousy to show in all its glory, I snidely ask, “Are you going to see Gwen, Carmine?”

His icy, detached stare swings to me, his brow furrowed deeply. “Yes. I have business with her.” He pauses before setting me straight. “Look, this is who I am. You think you know me, but the man you’ve seen is only a part of me. I am first and foremost the Consigliere of the largest drug Syndicate in Illinois. That’s one of the highest ranks. I’m a killer, Eva. Not a man who’s going to save you. When it comes down to it, I’ll do anything to protect the Syndicate. In reality, I’m no better than Roman; don’t forget that.” His callous words splinter my heart. Yet he did save me, and there’s something in his plagued tone that makes me doubt him.

On the other hand, it finally dawns on me that in my grief, I’ve been pretending we’re just friends, but the circumstances have pushed us together.

Although none of that matters since I don’t know what to do if he leaves now. “So what do I do?”

“You do exactly what you’ve been doing if you want to come out of this alive. Once my business is concluded, you’ll leave the Loop,” he orders without looking at me, putting his phone away and striding up the staircase.

After a moment, I tremble, startled, when the door slams shut.

I heard his arguments, but his actions confuse my mind and soul. A soul that’s being conquered by him, and he knows it. I want to believe he’s infuriated because he chose to lie to his Syndicate for me. Or maybe I’m having foolish romantic notions that don’t exist, making me feel uneasy and helpless, feelings that only intensify as morning turns into a gloomy afternoon and evening, and Carmine still hasn’t come home.

With each passing hour, my gut tightens. Especially when I remain alone in his splendid apartment that begins to feel oppressive under the pitch-black heavens. Memories of Carmine taking me against the window are stuck on replay in my brain, but they’re followed by rancid thoughts of him with Gwen; the woman he’s most likely with now.

The situation is beyond my imagination. While Carmine stays MIA the entire night, loneliness fills my chest with a cold, heavy weight.