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“Then yes,” she interrupted, both crying and nodding. “For you, yes. If you need this, I’ll do it. If you’re not trying to push me away because you think you’re a danger or some insanity like that, then yes.”
“You were right.” My brothers were right today. “You’re safer with me.”
“Good.” A heavy breath later, she shared in a shaky voice, “I promised you I’d be there for you to help you escape hell, and if for even a second you still feel like you’re there ... I’m here for you.” She pulled her hand from mine and slipped her arms over my shoulders, drawing me in for a hug. “I’ve got your back like you have mine.”
“Fuck,” I cried against her neck, surrendering to every emotion I’d once battled to keep hidden. “I really am lost without you.”
“But I’ll always find you.” She offered a similar promise to the one I’d made to Izzy. “Just like I know you’ll always find me.”
THIRTY-FIVE
Maria
One Month Later
“I’m in hell. I mean, there’s no other way to put it.” I pointed at the ground, frustration mounting, my body tingly all over. “Enzo’s driving me insane.”
“Mm-hmm.” My sister tossed a few of her best dresses onto the guest bed for me to try on for my date tonight. “Yes, having a man like Enzo wine and dine you, be all charming and swoony for weeks, was the definition for hell when I looked it up.”
I chuckled and dramatically collapsed onto the bed, probably wrinkling the outfits. “He’s barely even tongued me.”
“Because he knows he’ll put that tongue elsewhere if he does, and he’s trying desperately to take things slow. Give you some type of slow-burn romance.”
I groaned and rolled to my back and let go of an exasperated sigh. “I don’t want slow burn. I want action in chapter one. I want a whole book of hot scenes.”
She laughed again, then tossed a little black dress on top of me. “I know you, missy. And you love the tension and anticipation. I see the looks you share at the restaurant. And I know whenever you get a text from him because your face lights up.”
All true. I couldn’t deny it. And we had exchanged some hot looks and some witty and sexy read-between-the-lines texts that left me super wet afterward. The man knew how to turn me on without using dirty words.
Towels. Freaking towel talk from the man debating the best thickness over a late-night call last night had even sent me over the edge.
“Also,” my sister went on when I was lost in my thoughts, “not knowing when things will finally explode between the two of you is exciting and so, so hot. Trust me, I remember those days with Ryan.”
I tossed the black dress aside and sat upright. “He’s a walking book boyfriend, just like your hubby.” I fake-pouted and crossed my legs, the pain horrendous between my thighs. Chiara had been sleeping in her travel crib by my bed in Natalia’s guest room, so I was wound up tight without relief. My last orgasm had been in Long Island the night before hell broke loose.
Natalia smoothed a hand over her stomach. She was in a cute baby-blue dress with a bow beneath her breasts. “I really do think his request to do all of this is sweet and poetic. He wants to give your story a better beginning. And surely now that things are settled and the paint is dry on the whole mafia thing ...” She wrinkled her nose. “Bad analogy, but the point is, I think enough time has passed, and he’ll take things to the next level.” She lifted one shoulder. “He is a chef, surely he knows how to turn up the heat.”
“Oh, he does. And he has been. For four weeks, but without getting me off,” I teasingly wailed, testing my drama skills. And yeah, they still sucked.
One thing I hadn’t been able to hide from Enzo: the nightmares. When he’d pressed for me to share, worried I was dreaming about him taking lives, I finally admitted they weren’t about him.
No, they were about Alice holding a knife over me by the bed. But I always woke up right before she could stab me.
Enzo had refused to take no as an answer when suggesting therapy. I’d told him I’d go if he agreed to see someone as well.
“I’ll do anything for you,” he’d said during our talk two weeks ago, holding my shoulders. “So yeah, if you’ll only go if I do, then yes.”
I’d had my fourth visit with the doctor last Friday and quickly realized I had a lot more to talk about than just Alice. Like the fact I’d ever let my mom pressure me into marrying Thomas in the first place. My doubts and insecurities about being a single mom. And on and on and on.
“I need to get out of your hair and move out,” I said as she grabbed the black dress.
“Oh, please. I love having you here.”
“I just don’t want to go to Mom and Dad’s, and why bother getting my own place when my hope is Enzo and I will move in together soon? At this rate, it’ll be forever before I move out.”
“Now that you don’t need to live in Uptown by Thomas, when that day comes, you and Enzo can get a home near us.”
Not that I’d seen Thomas since that horrific day last month, but he was back home and on an electronic ankle bracelet courtesy of the Feds. He was waiting to face a judge, where he’d plead guilty in exchange for a reduced sentence. Guilty for taking $50,000 from Alice to help them out.
