3. Eli

ELI

The scent of chocolate chip cookies permeates the tiny apartment, warm and sweet and achingly nostalgic. For a moment, as I pull the tray from the oven and inhale the comforting aroma, I can almost pretend that everything is normal. That there isn"t a surly, devastatingly handsome mafioso lurking in my living room like a particularly dangerous piece of furniture.

Almost.

I sigh, setting the tray down on the counter with a clatter. Who am I kidding? There"s nothing normal about this situation, no matter how many batches of comfort food I whip up. My life has turned into a bad mafia movie overnight, complete with brooding, dangerous men in expensive suits and a target the size of Texas painted on my back.

Nico Caruso. Even the name sends a shiver down my spine, equal parts fear and fascination. He"s an enigma wrapped in a bespoke three-piece, a walking contradiction of icy control and barely leashed violence.

And now he"s my roommate. My "protector", whatever that means.

I scoop the cookies onto a cooling rack with more force than necessary, my motions jerky and agitated. It"s been three days since Nico barged into my life, and I still don"t know what to make of him. He"s hardly said a dozen words to me, his dark gaze inscrutable as he monitors my every move.

It"s unnerving, being watched like that. Like I"m a bug under a magnifying glass, my every twitch and flutter analyzed for signs of weakness. The weight of his stare makes my skin prickle, my heart beat just a little bit faster.

But it"s not fear, not entirely. There"s something else mixed in with the unease, a treacherous curl of heat that licks through my veins when Nico"s eyes linger just a little too long. A part of me, reckless and hungry, wonders what it would feel like to have the full force of that intense focus trained on me. To be the center of Nico Caruso"s undivided attention, even for a moment.

I shake my head, dispelling the dangerous thought. That way lies madness, and probably a shallow grave. Nico is a killer, a cold-blooded predator. I"d have to be suicidal to entertain even a whisper of attraction to him.

And yet...

I can"t help but remember the way he looked at me that first night, when he found me crying in my room. The way his voice softened, just a little, as he awkwardly offered comfort. There was something in his eyes, something raw and almost tender, that made me want to burrow into his arms and never let go.

Stupid. Naive. I"m projecting, seeing things that aren"t there because I"m scared and lonely and so far out of my depth I might as well be drowning.

The clatter of boots on hardwood yanks me out of my spiraling thoughts. I look up to see Nico filling the kitchen doorway, his broad shoulders straining the seams of his black dress shirt. His hair is damp from the shower, curling slightly at his nape, and the scent of his woodsy aftershave reaches me even across the room.

"Something smells good," he says, his voice a low rasp that sends shivers skating down my spine.

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "I made cookies," I say inanely, gesturing to the cooling racks like an idiot. "Chocolate chip. I thought...I thought maybe we could have some. Together."

Nico"s eyebrows shoot up, a flicker of surprise crossing his chiseled face. "You baked...for me?"

I flush, feeling suddenly foolish. What was I thinking, trying to bond with a mafia killer over baked goods? "Not for you specifically," I mutter, picking at a loose thread on my apron. "I just...baking helps me think. Keeps my hands busy."

Something dark and knowing flashes in Nico"s eyes, there and gone too quickly to decipher. "Idle hands are the devil"s playthings, is that it?"

I blink, wrong-footed by the sudden shift in his tone. "What? No, that"s not what I-"

"Relax, Sunshine," Nico drawls, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a ghost of a smile. "I"m just fucking with you."

He prowls closer, reaching past me to snag a cookie off the rack. I freeze, caught between the heat of his body and the cool granite of the countertop. He"s so close, the crisp cotton of his shirt brushing my arm, the spicy scent of his cologne invading my senses.

"Careful," I rasp, my voice coming out all breathy and wrong. "They"re still hot."

Nico ignores me, biting into the cookie with a crunch. His eyes flutter shut, a low hum of pleasure rumbling up from his chest. The sound shoots straight to my groin, desire unfurling hotly in my gut.

"Damn," he says, licking a stray crumb from the corner of his mouth. "That"s fucking delicious. Who knew you had hidden talents, Sunshine?"

I feel my cheeks heat, a giddy thrill zipping through me at the unexpected praise. "Oh, I"m full of surprises," I say lightly, trying for a teasing smile.

Something hot and intent sparks in Nico"s gaze, his eyes dropping to my mouth. "Is that so?" he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. "Maybe you"ll have to show me some of these...surprises, one of these days."

My breath catches, my pulse stumbling drunkenly in my throat. Is he...flirting with me? No, impossible. This is Nico Caruso, stone-cold killer and unrepentant bastard. He doesn"t flirt, he doesn"t banter, and he certainly doesn"t get all up in his hostage"s personal space, close enough to kiss.

Except...he is. And goddamn it, I"m responding, my body betraying me with a flush of heat and a hitch in my breathing.

This is insane. Suicidal. I can"t let myself fall for Nico"s dark magnetism, no matter how much my treacherous heart might race at his proximity. He"s dangerous, a lit match in a powder keg that could destroy us both.

I need to push him away. I need to re-establish some boundaries, remind both of us that he"s here as my jailer, not my lover.

I open my mouth to do just that, to tell Nico to back the hell off and stop looking at me like he wants to devour me whole. But what comes out instead is a breathy, idiotic, "You"ve, um. You"ve got flour. On your cheek."

Nico blinks, the heat in his gaze cooling a degree. "What?"

I swallow, my hand rising of its own accord. "Just there," I murmur, my fingers grazing the sharp cut of his cheekbone. His skin is warm, the hint of stubble prickling my fingertips. "Let me just..."

I brush the smudge of white away, my touch lingering a beat too long. Nico goes utterly still, his eyes locked on mine, his breath a hot gust against my wrist. The air between us crackles with tension, the kind of breathless anticipation that comes before a storm.

"Eli," he says, his voice rough and low. A warning. A plea.

I drop my hand like I"ve been scalded, taking a stumbling step back. "Sorry," I rasp, my face burning. "I don"t...I didn"t mean..."

Nico"s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. He looks away, his hands flexing at his sides like he"s physically restraining himself from reaching out. "It"s fine," he grits out, the words clipped and cold. "Forget it."

A leaden weight sinks into my stomach, disappointment curdling on my tongue. Of course he"s shutting me out, his walls slamming back up at the first sign of vulnerability. What the hell was I thinking, touching him like that? Like we were something more than reluctant allies, like I had any right to breach his impenetrable defenses.

"Right," I mutter, my throat tight and achy. "I"ll just...I have some arrangements to finish up downstairs."

I push past him, my shoulder brushing his in the narrow confines of the kitchen. I feel the contact like an electric shock, a jolt of heat and wanting that makes me stumble.

Nico"s hand shoots out, his fingers wrapping around my bicep to steady me. "Careful," he says, his voice low and gravelly.

I look up at him, my heart in my throat. His eyes are dark, turbulent, a maelstrom of emotions I can"t even begin to decipher. But there"s something else there too, something raw and almost...vulnerable. Like a crack in the impenetrable fortress of his control.

"Nico," I whisper, my voice cracking on the syllables. "I..."

The jangle of the shop bell shatters the moment, the sound as jarring as a gunshot in the charged silence. Nico"s head snaps towards the stairs, his hand tightening on my arm.

"Stay here," he orders, his voice brooking no argument. And then he"s gone, a whisper of silk and a creak of leather as he disappears down the stairs.

I stand frozen for a long moment, my heart rabbiting against my ribs. And then I hear it - the muffled thump of a body hitting the floor, the clatter of overturned furniture. A cry of pain, abruptly cut off.

Fear cinches tight around my lungs, icy talons sinking into my chest. Oh god. It"s happening again, the violence and brutality of Nico"s world spilling over into mine like a noxious tide.

I should stay put. I should let Nico handle it, trust that he knows what he"s doing. But the thought of him down there alone, outnumbered and outgunned, makes my stomach twist with dread.

I"m moving before I can second-guess myself, my feet carrying me down the stairs and into the chaos of the shop. The scene that greets me makes my blood run cold, my breath freezing in my lungs.

The shop is in shambles, torn petals and broken glass littering the floor. And in the middle of it all is Nico, his shirt torn and bloodied, his face a mask of cold fury as he grapples with a snarling, beefy thug.

There are two more men sprawled at Nico"s feet, groaning and clutching at various wounds. But the third assailant is still on his feet, a glittering knife clenched in his fist as he slashes at Nico"s belly.

"No!" The scream rips from my throat, high and terrified.

Nico"s head whips towards me, his eyes widening in shock and fear. The thug takes advantage of his distraction, lunging forward with the knife. The blade sinks into Nico"s shoulder with a sickening thud, a crimson stain blooming across the white of his shirt.

Nico roars in pain and fury, his fist smashing into the thug"s face with a crunch of cartilage. The man goes down hard, his skull bouncing off the tile with a hollow thunk.

And then it"s over, the sudden silence broken only by Nico"s labored breathing and the wet, gurgling gasps of the downed men.

"Eli," Nico rasps, his eyes wild and desperate as he staggers towards me. "What the fuck are you doing down here? I told you to stay put!"

I shake my head mutely, my throat closed up with terror. "You"re hurt," I manage, my voice a strangled whisper. "Oh god, Nico, you"re bleeding."

He glances down at his shoulder, at the sticky redness seeping between his fingers. "It"s fine," he grits out, even as his face pales to a sickly gray. "Just a scratch. I"ve had worse."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, the casual brutality in them making me flinch. How can he be so cavalier about being stabbed, about the violence that clings to him like a second skin? What kind of life has he led, that this is just another day at the office for him?

But beneath the bravado, I can see the pain etched into the lines of his face, the way his jaw clenches as he tries to hold himself together. He"s hurting, in more ways than one, and the sight of it cracks something open in my chest.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I"m closing the distance between us, my hands coming up to frame his face. "You"re not fine," I whisper fiercely, my thumbs stroking over the stubble on his jaw. "You"re hurt and bleeding and probably in shock. We need to get you to a hospital, or at least patch you up before you bleed out on my floor."

Nico shakes his head, a wry twist to his mouth. "No hospitals," he says, his voice gravelly with pain. "Too many questions. I"ve got a first aid kit upstairs, I can take care of it."

"Like hell you can," I snap, a sudden flare of anger burning through the fear. "You can barely stand up straight, much less stitch yourself back together. Let me help you, Nico. Please."

He stares at me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in the depths of his eyes. And then, to my shock, he nods, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Okay," he rasps, leaning into my touch like he can"t help himself. "Okay, Sunshine. You win."

Relief crashes through me, dizzying in its intensity. I slide my arm around his waist, taking some of his weight as I guide him towards the stairs. He leans on me heavily, his breath coming in short, pained gasps, and the trust in that simple gesture makes my heart clench.

I get him settled on the couch, his ruined shirt tossed carelessly to the floor. In the harsh light of the living room, the wound in his shoulder looks even worse, a jagged gash oozing blood.

My hands shake as I rip open the first aid kit, nausea churning in my gut. I"m no doctor, no combat medic. I don"t know the first thing about stitching up knife wounds. But Nico is counting on me, trusting me to take care of him, and I"ll be damned if I let him down.

I clean the wound as best I can, my fingers gentle as I dab at the torn flesh with antiseptic. Nico hisses through his teeth, his hands fisting at his sides, but he doesn"t pull away.

"I"m sorry," I murmur, my voice cracking. "I know it hurts. I"m trying to be careful."

Nico huffs out a strained laugh, his eyes glassy with pain. "You"re doing fine, Sunshine. Believe me, I"ve had worse bedside manner."

I swallow hard, my throat tight. "I hate that you can say that," I whisper, my fingers trembling as I thread the curved needle. "I hate that this is normal for you, that pain and violence are just another day at the office."

Nico"s quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching my face. "It"s all I know," he says finally, his voice low and rough. "All I"ve ever been good for. Hurting people, breaking things. It"s in my blood."

My heart clenches, a fierce ache blooming behind my ribs. "That"s not true," I say fiercely, tying off the last stitch with shaking fingers. "You"re more than what you do, Nico. More than the sins of your father. You protected me today, put yourself in harm"s way to keep me safe. That"s not nothing."

He stares at me, something raw and achingly vulnerable flickering in his dark eyes. "Eli," he rasps, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. "You don"t...you don"t know the things I"ve done. The kind of man I am."

I lean into his touch, my eyes fluttering shut. "Then show me," I whisper, turning my head to press a kiss to his palm. "Let me see the man beneath the mask, Nico. The one who bakes cookies with me and bleeds for me and looks at me like I"m something precious."

Nico makes a low, wounded sound, his fingers tightening on my jaw. "You are," he growls, his voice ragged with emotion. "Precious. Too fucking precious for a beast like me to touch."

I open my eyes, meeting his gaze head-on. "I"m not afraid of you," I say softly, my heart in my throat. "I"m not afraid of this, of us. I trust you, Nico. With my life, and with my heart."

Something shatters in his expression, the last of his walls crumbling to dust. And then he"s hauling me into his lap, his mouth crashing down on mine in a bruising, desperate kiss.

I gasp into the kiss, my hands fisting in his hair as I open for him. Nico"s tongue sweeps into my mouth, claiming me, consuming me, and I melt into him with a needy moan.

His hands are everywhere, sliding beneath my shirt to map the contours of my back, dipping into the waistband of my jeans to grip my hips. I can feel the heat of him, the coiled strength in his muscles, and it sets me on fire, my blood singing with want.

But as his fingers brush the button of my fly, I freeze, sudden uncertainty dousing my desire like a bucket of ice water. We"re moving too fast, the heat between us burning out of control, and as much as I want this, want him, I"m not ready for the inferno.

I tear my mouth away, panting harshly against his jaw. "Wait," I rasp, my hands splaying across his chest. "Nico, wait. We can"t...not like this. Not when you"re hurt and bleeding and hopped up on adrenaline. I don"t want to be just another battle high, another adrenaline-fueled mistake."

Nico stills, his breath gusting hot against my throat. For a moment, I"m terrified he"s going to ignore me, to take what he wants regardless of my hesitation. But then he"s pulling back, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded as he searches my face.

"Okay," he rasps, his hands gentling on my hips. "Okay, Sunshine. We"ll slow down. I"d never force you, never hurt you. I just...I want you so fucking much. It scares me, how deep this goes."

I shiver, my heart clenching at the raw honesty in his words. "I want you too," I whisper, my fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. "So much it terrifies me. But I need to know it"s real, Nico. That I"m not just a convenient outlet, a way to blow off steam."

His eyes soften, his thumb brushing tenderly across my bottom lip. "You"re not," he says roughly, his voice thick with emotion. "You"re everything, Eli. Fucking everything."

I make a soft, broken sound, my heart swelling until it feels like it might burst. And then I"m kissing him again, soft and slow and achingly tender, pouring every ounce of my fear and longing and desperate, terrifying love into the press of my lips.

And as Nico kisses me back just as gently, just as reverently, I feel a flicker of hope kindle to life in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to make this work. To carve out a place for ourselves amidst the chaos and the violence, a sanctuary built on trust and devotion and the stubborn, unshakeable belief that love can conquer all.

But as Nico"s hands tighten on my waist, his body tensing beneath mine, I know our troubles are far from over. The specter of his world still looms over us, dark and hungry and poised to strike. And if we"re not careful, it will devour us whole, leaving nothing but ashes and regret in its wake.