AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Once I reach my car, I practically throw myself inside, slamming the door shut behind me. I left my latte on the table, but there's no way I'm going back inside, not even for that.
My hands shake as I grip the steering wheel, cursing under my breath at the effect that man has on me. I drive home, eachmile putting more distance between me and the one person who seems to know exactly how to get under my skin.
The moment I walk through my door, I strip off my clothes, wanting nothing more than to bury myself in bed and forget the encounter ever happened. But as I slip back between the sheets, the memory of Constantino's even brief touch lingers, setting my body ablaze with a need I can't ignore.
"Damn him," I mutter to myself, giving in to the urge and slipping my finger between my legs. As much as I want to deny it, Constantino has managed to awaken something within me – something primal and dangerous.
Chapter Ten
I sit on my worn-out couch, nursing a tumbler of bourbon in my shitty apartment, living my shitty life, and watching shitty television. I'm clearly pissed off, restless, and bored out of my skull. The damn bullet wound's still tender, but that isn't the worst part. No, the real problem is that I've got both the Italians and the Irish gunning for me, which means it's time to lie low – not that I'm any good at that.
In some ways, I miss being in South America. Sure, it was a drug-addled slum, but the vicious fighting there helped me release all this pent-up energy. Now, it's building up inside me like a goddamn ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode.
"Fuck," I mutter under my breath, taking another swig of my drink. My thoughts keep circling back to Evelyn. She's the only woman who's ever had the nerve to reject me. Up until now, they've all given in to my charm and good looks eventually, but she's different...and it pisses me off.
I can still picture her at the mansion, sauntering in with that air of confidence, clutching her pretentious drink, and wearing those tight leggings that hugged her every curve. Oh, how I wanted to run my hands up her thighs, give them a good smack, and see just how much they could take. It killed me to watch her walk away, but damn if I didn't love the view.
"Son of a bitch," I grumble as I down the rest of my bourbon, feeling the burn as it slides down my throat. I know I've got bigger problems to deal with, but all I can think about is that tantalizing blonde who managed to worm her way under my skin.
"Focus, you idiot," I tell myself, rubbing my temples. But I can't help it – the more I try to push her out of my mind, the more she haunts me, like a ghost I can't quite shake.
"Maybe it's just because I haven't gotten laid in a while," I reason, trying to convince myself that it's nothing more than simple lust driving me insane. But deep down, I know that isn't the whole truth. There's something about Evelyn Moretti that's got me hooked, and I'm not sure I want to let go.
I snap the TV off with a flick of my wrist, the blaring commercials fading into silence. What a waste of time. I allow my thoughts to drift back to Evelyn – the way her eyes flashed with defiance, how she held herself like she didn't need anyone. I can't help but smirk, thinking about the challenge she presents.
I decide I want to know more about her. Maybe that's why I can't shake her. She's too much of a mystery right now. I grab my laptop from the coffee table. Teddy mentioned she went to Harvard and obviously she's a doctor, but that's all I know.
It's also clear she doesn't trust men.
My fingers peck at the keys as I dive into her background, feeling like some damn amateur compared to my brother, Giovanni. But I've learned enough in this life to get by, especially when it comes to digging up dirt on people.
"Frankie Moretti," I murmur, scrolling through the info. Her father was our family lawyer before Charlie had him taken out. Primo and I never agreed on much, but we both knew blood came first. I shake my head at the memory and keep reading.
"Valedictorian, huh?" I chuckle, impressed by her achievements. Early medical school acceptance, excelled at Harvard; she's got brains, that's for sure. My eyes catch on a marriage record, followed by a divorce not even a year later. "Well, well, well. Didn't see that one coming."
I pull up the divorce filing, hoping there's some juicy intel hidden among the legal jargon. It's all standard stuff at first glance, that vague "conscious uncoupling" bullshit you see in celebrity divorces. But as I dig deeper into the paperwork, something catches my eye.
"Infidelity," I read aloud, raising an eyebrow. So Evelyn filed for divorce because her ex cheated on her. Makes sense, given how she acts around men. The revelation pisses me off more than it should, considering I barely know her. Why the fuck do I care if some asshole cheated on her?
"Alright, let's see who this prick is," I mutter, opening a new tab to search for her ex-husband. They went to the same college, and he's now a software engineer for Google. Typical Ivy League success story. It's obvious they met and dated in college, then got hitched right before she started med school. What a shitty thing to do – cheating on her during her first year, when the stress is already through the roof.
Curiosity piqued, I dive deeper into his background. This guy comes from serious wealth; we're talking parents-own-a-South-African-diamond-mine kind of money. I lean back in my chair, increasingly impressed by Evelyn. She divorced him even though he's loaded. Most women would just put up with it, hoping for a big payout down the line.
"Is that why you left him, Evelyn?" I ask the empty room, trying to piece together the enigma that is this woman. "Or did you really not give a fuck about his money?"
My fingers tap restlessly against the keyboard as I consider the possibilities. There's still so much I don't know about her, but every new detail only makes me more intrigued. And for reasons I can't explain, more protective.
I uncover the court order for the distribution of marital property. She waived all alimony and monetary payments from the divorce. I dig a little deeper into her financials and see she's even still got loans from medical school in repayment.
"Fuckin' stubborn, huh?" A smirk plays on my lips as I shake my head. So, she filed for divorce and didn't want a cent of his family money. The more information I'm fed about her, the hungrier I get for her. And it's driving me fucking insane.
"Get a grip," I tell myself, closing my laptop with a decisive snap. There's so much other shit going on in my life right now, but Evelyn is constantly on my mind. It's probably just because I'm looking for a distraction. Or maybe it's because my last lay was that Irish guy's sister. I wasn't joking when I said she was unsatisfying - not even worth the thrusting effort.
"Maybe I'm just backed up from balls to brain," I reason. "I'll take care of this, and then I can focus."
With purpose, I head to my bedroom, leaving the computer behind. My imagination is enough; I already know what's going to get me off tonight: pounding into Evelyn's sweet body while her cheating ex watches, beaten, bound, and gagged in a chair.
As I slip between the sheets, I'm already hard at the thought. Images of Evelyn's perfect curves flash through my mind, fueling my desire. And the idea of teaching her ex a lesson – making him watch as I claim what he threw away – only adds to the thrill.
