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My thoughts swirl around him as I sink deeper into my mattress, the soft sheets embracing my weary body. I can't seem to shake the memory of his sculpted chest when I was unbuttoning his shirt, the warmth of his skin searing into my fingertips, and the tense muscles beneath.
"Damn it," I curse under my breath, frustrated with myself. I know I should be focusing on anything but him, yet my mind is stubbornly fixated on that moment in the hospital room – how he stood up for me against the administrator, his towering presence dominating the space.
I press my eyes shut, trying to block out the images, but they only grow more vivid. The intensity of his gaze, like a predator stalking its prey; the way his voice rumbled like thunder, commanding attention and defying anyone who dared challengehim. It's intoxicating, thrilling even, and I can't deny the allure of this dangerous man.
"Get a grip, Evelyn," I chide myself, my inner voice laced with sarcasm. "You're supposed to be smart. Don't let some mobster get under your skin."
But the truth is, he's already burrowed deep beneath my defenses, stirring emotions and desires I didn't even know existed within me. It scares me, this hunger for something wild and untamed, but there's also an exhilarating freedom in surrendering to it, in giving myself over to the primal instincts that have lain dormant for so long.
"Maybe just once," I whisper, justifying my fascination with the dark abyss that is Constantino Maldonado. "And then he'll be out of my system. A little taste of danger never hurt anyone, right?"
And with that treacherous thought, I allow myself to drift off to sleep, floating on a sea of forbidden fantasies.
Chapter Eight
There's a knock on the door to my apartment, pulling me out of my thoughts. I make my way over to it, stepping carefully through the small, cramped space. The walls need new paint, and the single window lets in barely enough light to see by. But, for now, it's safe enough for me to get a few hours of sleep each night.
I stand to the side of the door, looking through the peep hole. Can't be too careful these days; an easy way to kill someone is to knock on their door and when they come to answer it, shoot them dead through it. You don't even have to worry about dirtying the scene with fingerprints or DNA. It's also why I screwed a metal plate to the back of my door, but standing off to the side is an old habit. It's little things like this that you think about when there's a lot of people in the world that want you dead.
I recognize the man standing on the other side: Sebastian Blackwood, his dark hair slicked back, sharp features framedby a day-old stubble. I open the door and a small child comes running through, making me whirl around and curse in surprise.
"Sorry about that," Sebastian chuckles as he closes the door. "Babysitter's out of town." I give him a look of frustration. "You don't have anyone else who can watch him?" He shrugs and shakes his head.
I feel a little guilty for ragging on Sebastian this way. He's had it pretty hard. He was an orphan, like so many guys who join the mafia are. He got a girl pregnant a few years back, and she up and dumped the baby on him and ran off never to be heard from again. I know he's doing the best he can and he loves his kid more than anything. We've talked, and he wants a better life for the boy. He doesn't want him joining the mafia. He wants him to go to college and have options in his life. We live a life of no options, and that's just how it is.
"Alright, come on," I say, motioning toward the small kitchen table in my cramped apartment. "Sit down." I grab a couple of beers from the fridge and toss one to Sebastian. He catches it with ease and grins at me. "Well, this is a step down from your old living arrangement."
I give him a death glare. He's talking about the penthouse apartment I used to have over in Seaport. Obviously, it's sat vacant since I had to flee the area, and I sure as hell wasn't going to risk going back to it. I wouldn't be surprised if there was a guy stationed 24/7 outside my door waiting to shoot me dead. "It's safer," I say defensively.
The little boy, Evan, tugs at his dad's sleeve.
"Can I climb the big staircase?" he asks pointing to the iron staircase that sits in the middle of the room.
Sebastian looks at me, and I shake my head. "No railings up there," I inform him. "Just a roof."
Sebastian leans down. "Thank you for asking for permission. Unfortunately, it's too dangerous up there. You can climb thestairs, but you need to stay inside, okay?" The little boy protests a bit but ultimately runs off again to play on the stairs.
I can't help but watch the interaction and feel a pang of jealousy in my heart. I never had a relationship like that with my dad. He was never around much to begin with, and he never cared enough about any of our well-being to try and keep us safe. If anything, he did the opposite. From a young age, we were all supposed to choose what role we wanted to play in the "family business."
Cracking open my beer, I lean against the counter and take a long swig. "What's the news on the ground?" I ask Sebastian, trying to refocus on the matter at hand.
"The Irish are trying to stir up discord from the inside," he says, taking a sip of his own beer.
I furrow my brow. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that they're going to a lot of the lower-level guys and doing what they can to get them to turn. Bribes, threats, you know the usual." His casual tone makes me clench my jaw.
"Is it working?" I ask, fearing the answer.
Sebastian shrugs. "There's not a lot of clear leadership in the family right now. Sure, Teddy is technically at the helm, but he's never been shy about saying he doesn't want the job. Still says it even now."
I sigh. "Yeah, I'm aware."
"And obviously Primo's recused himself as has Giovanni. Not to mention everyone thinks you're a traitor who killed Charlie, the beloved mascot of the family."
I bristle at his words. "Charlie was plotting against Primo with Enzo and Carmine the entire time my beloved brother was on trial," I scoff. "I killed him before he had the chance to kill Primo, which was his plan if Primo was acquitted."
Sebastian just drinks his beer and lets me vent. We've been friends for a while, so he knows how I can get sometimes."Literally, the only reason Primo had a lawyer at all is because Charlie thought isabella was too green to do any real harm." I shake my head. "I don't know how blind my brother had to be to not see it. I mean, first Frankie Moretti, the longstanding family lawyer winds up dead right before he's arrested for murder, he cant find any other lawyers to take the case except a girl fresh out of law school, and he thinks it's all some big coincidence?" I roll my eyes. "I always knew he was a fucking moron."
