26. Evelyn

"Mio dolce, you're not supposed to be here." The visceral growl in Alessandro's voice, with one hand around my torso and the other holding a knife to my throat, has me trembling. A mixture of fear, lust, and helplessness jumble together in a mess that I'm sure I need therapy to fix.

"I needed to talk to you," I tell him with the knife still against my skin. A shudder ripples down my body.

"You love this, don't you?" he asks, nipping at my ear before letting his tongue take the lobe into his mouth and sucking gently.

"I love you, Alessandro," I tell him through heaving breaths of anticipation.

"You don't," he says with pain. "You want a divorce, and I'm going to give it to you."

"That's not what I want, Alessandro. I swear. All I want is you, mio marito."

"The fuck you do," he replies, angrier than a few moments ago. Still, the tension and passion are between us as he grabs my breasts, holding the knife against my skin. His hand goes up my shirt, pinching my nipples hard, then caressing them gently.

His mouth moves to my neck while his hand dips down into my sweatpants where I'm already wet for him. Alessandro moans against me as he yanks them down just enough to free me from behind. His fingers slips inside my walls, and I reach behind me to undo his pants.

"Don't you fucking move unless I move you." It's a deliciously dangerous warning, and I don't want this to end.

His finger drives in and out of me, sending sounds of my wetness into the air around us. I can't stop the orgasm from crashing over me. Just as I come, Alessandro hikes my left leg over the crux of his arm, puts the knife on the nightstand, and pushes his thick cock inside me with enough momentum to push me forward.

My hands plant onto the bed as he strokes in and out of my pussy. He doesn't leave me bent over for long, wrapping his hand around my throat as he pumps in and out, punishing me for something, for breaking an unknown rule between us. I take every stroke he gives me. I want to do everything to show him I want to be here with him.

"Use the knife," I whisper between pants.

Alessandro releases my neck and picks up the blade, flipping it so the serrated edge faces away from me as he continues to drive his dick into my soft sex with fury.

"Fuck me, your beautiful pussy loves this cock. I love watching you come on me, mio dolce. Come for me."

"It belongs to me," I tell him with lust and ecstasy coating every syllable. The orgasm shakes my leg and causes me to lose balance.

Alessandro catches me with a stiff arm around my waist, nudging me onto my hands and knees on the bed. He doesn't skip a beat, continuing to fuck me with the knife to my throat.

"Do it," I whisper. "Cut me if you want to."

"Stop it," he says.

The conflict in his tone tells me he likes it, but not from me. I want him to want me to do anything for him, with him, for me. I need to be the best he's ever had, to stand out among anyone he may think about loving in the future. I need Alessandro to belong to me even if we let this marriage go.

"Do it," I tell him again. "I want to feel what you feel."

He roars and comes hard inside me but pulls out before either of us can savor it. I turn around to stare into those glassy blue eyes, tracing the scar down his cheek as he puts himself together.

"You don't know what you're asking for, Evelyn. I can't do that with you. The lines are too blurry. You're dangerous and you're in danger. You can't stay here. You shouldn't have come back. Are you alone? Did you come here alone?" His mood swings from disappointment to concern in an instant.

"No. Jenkins is back on duty after last night."

"Is he healed already?" he asks. "I can have him and Lorenzo swap, or have private security called in so they're not burning the candle at both ends."

"Alessandro, it's fine. I'm safe, and I used the tunnel to get in, so I don't think anyone knows I'm here."

"Good, then you can use it to leave." He turns away from me and walks out of the room.

"I'm always good for a fuck, but never a conversation. I told you I had to speak to you!" I chase after him, stopping him with a hand to his shoulder.

He whips around. "Don't do or say anything else you don't mean right now. I can't stand it. You think I want to cut into people? Into you? That's insane. I do it because I know it fucking works. It's not a fetish for me, it's a necessity to get the job done. People bend to your will when you have a knife at their throats, figuratively and literally."

"I get that, and I'm sorry, Alessandro. I came to tell you that there's a hitman coming after you."

"Hired by your father?" he replies sarcastically.

"Don't be that way. He wouldn't. He knows how I feel about you. Besides, he thinks you should be the next Don of the De Luca family instead of your uncle. I don't want a divorce, and maybe when all this craziness is behind us, we can give us a chance."

"Evelyn, I need you to listen and understand me when I say you. Cannot. Be. Here. You take up every free thought rushing into my head, both of them. I can't pay attention when all I want to do is chain you up downstairs and fuck you for days on end. This isn't the time for me to disappear into my love life. I need to be the monster everyone knows I am. When it's all said and done, I don't want anything to happen to you. If you got killed like my mother, I'd gut this entire city and then spend the rest of my days slicing up assholes in a supermax."

"I get it. I'll go, but Alessandro?"

"Yes, Evelyn?"

"Promise me this isn't the end. Promise me this isn't the last conversation we'll ever have. Promise me. Don't just walk away."

My eyes burn from holding back tears.

Alessandro looks at me and shakes his head. "I love you, mio dolce. But with the way things are right now, especially after everything that's happened, it might be for the best. I won't make that promise. You won't make a liar out of me."

The way my stomach lurches at the idea of never seeing or speaking to him again cripples me to my knees. Nausea sweeps over me, and thankfully, I'm already in the bathroom. Tossing anything left in my empty stomach into the toilet is an unfamiliar feeling. The idea of this being the end of us, to go back to being complete strangers, is earth shattering. My eyes scan every inch of the room, the closet, the bedroom, and none of it matters. I need to leave.

The elevator takes me into the playroom, to the bed where I lift the latch to release it. Back through the tunnel and out the other end, where Jenkins is beside the car, waiting for me. It took nearly twenty minutes of arguing and a find-my-phone tracker chip to convince him to let me go inside alone.

"Are you okay?" he asks. "You look pale."

"That's because I threw up whatever food and color I had in my body. Alessandro's done with me, and all I want to do is crawl into bed."

Jenkins opens the door for me to get inside the car. "Is that what you really want?"

"Yes, shut the curtains and wither away until I own nine cats, three dogs, a guinea pig, and a turtle."

"Don't be dramatic, Evelyn."

"I'm serious. I'm done with this life and the way I feel about Alessandro. I don't want to feel like that about anyone else ever again. I don't want to feel this ever again." I work myself up to the point where I'm sick again, throwing the door open to puke onto the curb.

"Fuckin' A." Jenkins curses. "I'm taking you to the doctor."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Believe it or not, Evelyn, I know you a lot better than your husband. You don't wither, you don't admit defeat, and you don't vomit. You bake out your problems. Something is wrong if you're not sending me on a fool's errand looking for the best Bavarian chocolate in the city to make a cheesecake chocolate chip cannoli."

"That actually sounds delicious. Ooh, a cannoli crumble crusted, almond amaretto cheesecake with a Bavarian ganache?" Suddenly, I can smell it in my mind, and that makes me nauseous all over again.

"Fuck. Yeah, come on, let"s get you in to see the doc."

"Take me to the Bireli woman. She'll see me unannounced."

A little over an hour away, fighting through evening rush hour to drive into Brooklyn from Midtown, Jenkins lets me out of the car to find parking. When I step into the empty waiting area, Dr. Kathleen Bireli is standing there in a latex bodysuit, wearing matching garter belted thigh-high boots, netted stockings, and a white doctor's coat over all of it.

"What the fuck?" I eye her from head to toe, salivating at what she must be into.

"Hello, pea." She grins. "Welcome to our pod. Come, Mrs. De Luca. You and your husband have done everything possible to make sure I don't get off tonight."

I follow her to the exam room, where I undress and get onto the table, feet in stirrups and dizziness willing me to close my eyes.

"What did you mean by not getting off?" I ask her.

"I ran into Dro-Seph—sorry, Alessandro—at Kings, and he told me of your woes. I apologized to him and I'm apologizing to you. He's been like a brother to me for the past fifteen years. He saved my life, got me the money to go to med school and open this practice. I'm sorry, Evelyn. Truly. I get possessive over things I feel belong to me, and Alessandro never did. Treating his scars with steroid shots gave me a piece of him he'd never give to anyone else. Seeing your name, it just threw me off."

"Apology accepted. I'm sorry for pulling you in on what's clearly a night off for you. I just didn't know who to call who would take me right away."

"It's all good. Tell me what's going on?"

"I'm throwing up. The idea of thinking about food, which I love, makes me sick."

"Pregnant?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Doubtful. I have the implant."

"Right. Okay, well, let me run some tests. I'll take some blood, do an ultrasound, and let me see, here." She reaches for my arm and presses gently against the top of it near my shoulder. "That's no good."

"What?"

"It's in pieces," she says, her eyes glancing up at the ceiling. "Three, if I'm feeling correctly. What happened?"

"Car accident about seven or eight weeks ago. I can't remember the exact date."

"Okay, well, the implant is compromised. While it should still work, I'm not sure of the efficacy when it's in three pieces. We can do a mini-incision for me to pull them out, but let's settle this one area first."

Kathleen's demeanor is upbeat, different around me, and at least I know I wasn't crazy. The vibes I got weren't unfounded and she admitted as such. Yet, remnants of envy wrestle with me since she still gets to see Alessandro and I'm not sure I ever will.

When she returns to the office with a clipboard and a few sheets in her hand, she's staring at it sideways.

"What's wrong?"

"I think you're pregnant. I can see the lining of the uterus, thick and ready like a landing strip for little baby Eve-less?"

I giggle. "You're funny."

"When I'm not being a possessive twit, I like to be. Seriously. It's too soon to tell, but I'm pretty sure you are pregnant. We'll schedule a follow-up in about four weeks. Your levels are elevated, and bloodwork has all the makings of preparing you to carry. I don't want to tell you anything for certain until you're further along. When was your last period?"

"I have no idea. I've been using the implant for the last two years and it comes for maybe a day? It's super light if it does come. I just get the tenderness and migraines during that time of the month."

"Cool, come back and we'll see if there's a bean in there next time."

She lets me get dressed and meets me in the waiting area. Her white jacket is switched out for a peplum plum trench coat that only shows her boots and nothing underneath.

"You look so badass in that outfit."

"Thank you, I hope I can some action out of it tonight."

We talk more, leaving the building while I text Jenkins to bring the car around. At the end of it, we have a shopping date where Anita and I can go to her favorite shops to prepare for a girl"s night out at a club like Kings. The only difference is it will be suited for more feminine tastes.

Kathleen heads in one direction, and I head toward the street where a car's idling. It looks like Jenkins's SUV. He got something sturdier after our car accident. I approach it wondering why he's not out of the driver's seat to open the door for me, to survey the street like a super soldier. It's empty.

The car's running, but no one's inside.

"Evelyn!" Jenkins shouts from a distance, but it's too late.

The prick on the back of my neck takes effect immediately as the world around me fades away and I fall into the arms of a man who has a smile I never want to smile at me.