Eva

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I wake up, well rested, with Carmine behind me, his palm resting on the curve of my hip. Since the curtains are open, I squint my eyes because of the golden sunlight basking us in its warmth. Understandably, we’ve slept in after living in fear for the better part of the previous night.

“Good morning,” Carmine’s voice drawls, prickling the hairs at my nape.

I roll to my back as he studies me closely for a long moment.

Reaching out, I swipe the sheet down to our stomachs, touching the bandage covering his left hand. “Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s not that bad. The stitches can come out within a couple of days, and the skin on my jaw will heal even sooner.”

Gently, I ghost my fingers over the tattoo on his arm, up his neck, and to his lips as our eyes meet.

Carmine rubs my cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. I feel fine,” I tell him honestly and stroke his abs, down the V and up, loving how he shivers under my touch. Except for the marks on our skin, there’s no sign of last night.

I can barely believe that I’m still here, with him. With a Carmine who acts differently, who’s seemingly come to terms with the fact that an unbreakable bond has formed between us.

Although I have no idea how to move forward. Is my life back to normal, like before I ever became an escort? Will Adriano truly accept us?

But Carmine distracts my wayward thoughts when he shifts out of bed toward the walk-in closet and returns within moments with clothes in his uninjured hand.

My god, he’s gloriously naked. Broad chest, athletic shoulders, and thighs and calves that are hard with muscles enhancing his powerfully appealing physique. I’ve always been intrigued by the tattoo beneath his elbow, which says so much of what kind of man he is: one who protects the people he loves at all costs.

Clearly, he feels no shame in my frank appraisal since he props his hip against the dresser and arcs a brow. “Like what you see?”

I don’t want to feed his ego when he’s being flirty Carmine. “Maybe...”

“Ha! Liar.” He tosses a white dress in my face, another new one. “A dress for you.”

Smiling, I pull it down, basking in this sense of normalcy after weeks of worry and tumult. After almost giving up hope last night.

Carmine flings another set of underwear he bought for me onto the bed and holds out his hand. “Come shower with me and then we’ll eat. I’m sure you’re just as hungry as I am.” His lips split into a wicked smile, and I adore how well he’s gotten to know me.

Of course, I’m starving.

***

Unfortunately, after we bathe and dress in comfortable silence, Carmine escorts me to the top floor of the Astoria Tower. When he knocks, the door is opened by Cam, and after she gives each of us a quick hug, she invites us in and excuses herself.

Carmine tries to tug me inside, but I dig my feet in when I see a bunch of people settled around a long table by the window in the living room. I recognize Adriano, Cam, Luca doting on a brunette, another couple with a child, and Carmine’s sister with the same man wearing glasses from yesterday.

“Carmine! What’s this?” I mumble, insecure. “I thought we were going to get some lunch out somewhere?”

“I said we were going to eat,” he retorts, amused by my reservations. But he disregards my hesitancy, pulling me with him, so I yank his arm.

“Don’t be an ass. You know what I mean.”

His brows rise before his mouth eases into a devilish grin. “I’ve missed you calling me an ass.” And he steals a brief, hard kiss, palming the back of my head like he always does. “Shut up and come inside. Everything will be fine.”

Since he’s calm and collected as usual, he saunters inside until Adriano, appearing less pleased, looks up from the head of the table that’s filled with decanters of orange juice, fresh bread, and fruits.

He’s holding a baby in an adorable yellow dress with beautiful brown curls, tapping her back as he frowns at Carmine. “Couldn’t you have waited before you brought her? I didn’t even get the chance to update anyone.”

“Don’t talk about Eva as if she’s not here.” Carmine’s lip thin into a hard line.

I catch Cam making a face at Adriano as she sits to his right, like she’s telling him to play nice, and Carmine adds, “And they’re informed now that Eva’s my girl and I want her here with me.”

His words mean so much more to me than he’ll ever know. Though I’m distracted by everyone blatantly staring at me, except Luca.

Adriano’s eyes narrow, but Carmine doesn’t waver, so Adriano, who’s more relaxed now as he hugs his baby, says to me, “I apologize, Eva. Please don’t feel unwelcome. My brother can be an ass sometimes, and obviously, he didn’t even wait for me to inform everyone that he’d be bringing a date.”

“It’s okay,” I reply.

“And stop staring at her,” Carmine orders, aiming a mock scowl to everyone at the table, to which they all glance away in unison, making me smile at their comical reaction. Carmine caresses the baby’s head while she sleeps in Adriano’s arms. “This is my niece, Amalia.” He proceeds to introduce everyone, but it all goes so fast that I forget some of the names.

It’s a bit awkward because there’s a chair missing, yet Carmine sinks down next to Mary, patting his leg, and after I sit, his arms surround me when he leans forward to plate up for us.

Mary resumes gawking at Carmine and me, and so do the two women across from us, Fallon and Rosalia.

Suddenly, I notice a tiny Chihuahua, jumping off Mary’s lap, pawing at the window, and giving a cute bark.

Mary waves her fork in the air. “Carmine, what’s with the stitches? Adriano?! Um...can someone tell me what happened last night? Last thing I know is that you all bolted out of here, and now my brother is hurt.”

“I’m fine,” Carmine puts in absentmindedly.

“Everything’s fine. We talked it out,” Cam answers. “Last night was a big misunderstanding between Carmine and Adriano.”

Mary rolls her eyes. Undoubtedly, she knows her brothers are hiding something, but Adriano merely tilts his head to the side, signaling her to drop the subject.

Meanwhile, the others are still assessing me.

In reaction, Carmine arcs a brow at Fallon and Rosalia, who look away, and then Rosalia remarks, “Who took all the sugar?”

At that moment, a little boy who’s hopping behind her chair with his curly blonde hair bouncing while he clutches the sugar bowl, turns on his heel. Rosalia cranes her neck and snatches his T-shirt at the back, making him stop, and he gives her a cheeky smile.

She scowls at him, and his father, Logan, smirks widely before Rosalia holds out her palm. “Adam, hand it over.”

“I-I was just going to give some to Amalia, Mommy,” he defends and thrusts his tiny arms out, surrendering the stolen container.

“She can’t have sugar yet, silly,” she explains, tickling him.

I glimpse at Adriano every once in a while as he inspects my every move with Carmine until Mary leans sideways to me, fluffing her brown curls. “Don’t worry. Adriano will soften up. I think it’s awesome Carmine finally decided to let us meet his girlfriend.” Then she whispers in a conspiratorial tone, “Let’s have dinner together this week. You can tell me what happened last night. Carmine will give you my number.”

Carmine doesn’t react, popping an olive into his mouth while I’m becoming more comfortable with the laidback atmosphere as Mary’s sincere smile relaxes me.

“Okay, I’ll text you,” I say to Mary, and she chatters on.

Since we’re only a year apart, I click with her immediately and settle in to eat fresh Italian bread and antipasti. While everyone’s talking and enjoying brunch, I note how neither Cam, Adriano, Luca, nor Carmine are bothered about the events of the previous evening, or at least, they don’t let anything shine through. As if they’ve learned how to promptly cope with brutality. And it rubs off on me. The familial setting eases my fears and anxieties while they fire questions at us. So for the first time in weeks, there’s nothing to worry about, which is probably why Carmine is stress-free.

Eventually, I laze back against him. “Why were they staring at me?” I whisper into his ear as he pours a coffee.

“I’ve never brought a girl to meet the family.”

“Not once?”

“No,” he answers, locking himself forever in my heart.

But I still have no idea where we go from here. What will happen now? Where will I go? Where will I live?

After he sips the hot brew, he demands, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Apparently, my concerns are etched on my face, so I ask, “Where do we go from here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what happens to me?”

A wrinkle forms in his forehead, and I wonder if he’s even thought about the distant future and not just the present. In reality, I have no home, no income, and I’m not sure he realizes that.

Immediately, my throat feels dry while I wait for his response.