4. Evelyn

The tightness blooming across my chest makes me feel like a giant wave is crashing over me. Jenkins goes blurry in front of my eyes and the walls of the church swirl as my knees buckle. Why is this happening to me?

Everything I care about, yanked right out from under my feet, and there"s nothing I can do about it. I want to rage. I want to scream.

Fuck this shit. It only takes two deep breaths to regain my composure.

"It"s going to be fine, Evelyn. Just do as you"re told." Jenkins"s voice is calm, stoic as ever.

The confidence in his tone tells me that, once again, he knows more about what"s going on than I do. Instead of saying anything else, Jenkins rubs my shoulder, pulls me in close to kiss me on the side of my forehead, and takes a step away from me.

I turn to my father, Don Rossi himself, who wears a look of frustration and annoyance. It reminds me of my teenage years when I wouldn"t get in line. The look in his eyes isn"t unfamiliar. It insists on my compliance. But my anger is like a heat-seeking missile with too many targets.

"Evelyn, honey, what you"re doing?—"

I cut my father off before he can finish. "What I"m doing is sacrificing my life for this Family, and no one has the fucking balls to tell me what the game plan is."

My father sighs, leaning in to whisper as if Alessandro can"t overhear us. "You just need to do what you"re told. You know Shana would never hesitate to do this for the Family. No questions asked. Don"t ruin this opportunity for us."

"Shana"s in a fucking jail cell for what she wouldn"t hesitate to do for Family. Just… just leave me alone for right now. I don"t want to look at any of you." I push away from my father, storming out of the church, wondering if he"s going to stop me.

However, the only person on my heels is my new husband. I turn around to stop him, and that"s when it happens. Recognition of who"s in charge.

Alessandro"s height, his insanely handsome face, even with a scar indentation trailing into his beard. It"s not as noticeable from afar, a few shades lighter than his complexion, and it makes me wonder about its origin. He has power bleeding from every pore. He has the power to stop me in my tracks.

Every step Alessandro takes closer to me is another step I take away from him. The position my family has me in is nothing like the danger I feel standing in front of Alessandro De Luca. Until there aren"t any other steps for me to take.

My back presses against the side of his car with his driver standing a few feet away, making sure to keep his eyes on everyone and everything else but us. I wonder if Alessandro will kiss me again. My body craves his touch, his closeness, but logic warns me not to fall so easily.

"I"m taking you home, mio dolce."

"Don"t call me that," I warn him, but he stops my words with a single finger to my lips.

"I"ll call you what I want because we need everyone who knows and everyone who doesn"t to believe that this marriage is real. Now." Alessandro sighs, reaching behind me to open the door. "Get in the car, Evelyn."

My heart races as I slide onto the softest leather seat I imagine is possible for car upholstery. It"s the glitz and glam side of this life. The perk of shielding your eyes to what truly happens behind closed doors, in the darkness of crime-ridden nights in the city that never sleeps. This life glamorizes selling your soul for the sake of loyalty.

Alessandro walks around the back of the car and shares a few words with his driver before they both get in for us to head to a brownstone in Midtown Manhattan. The drive is quiet, and so is Alessandro as he scrolls through various screens on his phone. An email here, a text message there. It makes me wonder who he"s communicating with and about what. Is he going to treat me like a wife, or is this just for show for anyone who needs to see?

When Lorenzo opens the door for me, Alessandro is already outside the car. He holds his hand out with his eyes moving from one point to another up and down the street. His driver, I assume soon-to-be consigliere, has the same diligent gaze, as if they"re identifying everyone walking by.

The building in front of me is the same as the two beside it, blending in with the red and brown brick brownstones that draw an obscene amount of money on the real estate market. I know because, technically, Alessandro lives in the vineyard. The underboss of another Mafia don lives, eats, and breathes in a property my Family should own.

When his large hand engulfs mine, I find myself scanning faces too, following Alessandro up a flight of stairs and through a large black door. The bustling sounds of Manhattan fade away as soon as that door closes, and I"m left in awe.

The entire first floor is luxurious but simple. The dark brown bricks continue inside along an exposed wall, where a gorgeous floating white staircase leads to the second floor. There"s a black door with a smoky glass pane and a silver doorknob to my left that I reach out for before Alessandro stops me.

"Lorenzo is going to show you around. That"s my office. You"re not allowed in there without my permission. Anywhere else in the home is free for you to explore. Lorenzo." Alessandro nods at the man who is in every sense his version of Jenkins. This also ends our conversation as he opens the office door and disappears behind it.

"Lorenzo? You have a last name?" I ask him.

"Portero, Mrs. De Luca. If you"ll follow me." He gestures toward the open living room. The dark wood floors are warm as I step out of the heels I"ve been in since six this morning and carry them as we move through the home.

Lorenzo Portero is solid in his stature. Dirty blond hair is styled straight back, maybe an inch long and out of his face. He walks with his head held high, light brown eyes on everything, and his hands are clasped in front of him.

"There"s a tablet on the sofa that controls the thermostat, lights, and TVs. That"s the dining room and the kitchen, fully stocked, and if you need anything, I can escort you to the store."

There"s an L-shaped white leather sectional in front of a glass coffee table. The wall of glossy, black, built-in shelves stretches along the left wall of the living room into the dining area behind the sectional. A sleek white lacquer table seats at least a dozen, and there"s a matching island behind it. High stools tuck under the white countertop. The built-in shelves, with an assortment of books—law, mostly—merge into the cabinets of the kitchen. The design wraps around to the back wall and stops at a refrigerator that blends in seamlessly with the rest of the kitchen.

A pair of double doors matches the office door and most likely leads to a pantry. I"m actually excited about cooking here. That"s what I do when my nerves are on edge. I cook, bake, make whatever tasty delicacy I can drum up to dull the rapid beat of my anxiety.

"Thanks. So, where am I sleeping? What about my clothes?" I ask him after taking the entire space in. "I can"t stay in this. Can I go back home? Am I allowed to leave?" I rattle off every question crossing my mind.

Lorenzo gestures toward the stairs. It doesn"t take long to climb them to the second floor, where three closed doors stare back at me and Alessandro"s driver. He speaks softly, pointing to different doors. The one directly in front of the stairs is the first door.

"That"s my space. It"s open to you should you ever feel the need to hide?—"

"Hide?" I ask, my eyes widening with concern.

"Mrs. De Luca."

"Evelyn, please." Being referred to as Mrs. De Luca doesn"t sit as well with me as easily as Lorenzo says it.

He nods. "Evelyn. Alessandro trusts me with his life, and therefore, your safety is paramount to his goals. The likelihood of someone breaking into this home is slim to none, but should a threat ever arise, you"re free to use my room as a panic room."

"Where would you be?"

"Defending this Family," he says, opening the door to his room.

It"s simple, small, with a dresser, bed, closet, and a large screen mounted on the wall with various rooms around the house on display. He can see every room except the two other bedrooms. Once he sees that I"ve seen enough, he shuts the door and points to the door in the middle of the hallway.

He continues. "This room is yours, and that room is Alessandro"s. I strongly recommend that you don"t enter his spaces without permission."

A sound chirps in his pocket, causing him to pull out his phone and walk away abruptly into his room, leaving me alone to sit in the silence of being Alessandro De Luca"s wife. His fucking wife.

Thinking of Lorenzo fielding calls, most likely from Alessandro, who"s still in this house, makes me pull out my phone. I want to call my father and curse him out. Or maybe I"ll get to talk to my mother to see if she even has an opinion other than parroting Don Rossi. I wish Shana could accept calls, but alas, there isn"t such freedom allowed in a correctional facility.

I dial the next best number I can, someone without any skin in this game and who keeps me grounded in reality. When my best friend, Anita Remington, answers the phone, I find myself grateful to hear her voice.

"Hey, girl. It"s been a minute. How"s it going?" she asks.

"Same shit, different day, only today, I"m Mrs. De Luca."

"Hold up and run that back." Her sense of humor is always real, so New York, and makes me miss the freedom of our youth.

"You heard me, Nita."

"Wait. Is this something you can talk about over the phone? Do we need to go on a date?" she asks. Anita is one of the few people in my life who's not in the life, but I can talk to her about anything.

"We"re fine. It"s legit. I just spent the better half of an hour with Father Andrew at Saint Christopher"s, pledging my everlasting love to Alessandro De Luca. Signed the wedding certificates, filed with City Hall, and everything."

"Oh, shit." She huffs out a breath, pauses, and comes back on the line. "He"s hot, but what the fuck, Ev? I thought I would have at least been your maid of honor or something."

"Great, Nita, make it about you." I explore the empty bedroom.

Well, it"s not really empty. The light grey hardwood floors mimic the same herringbone pattern downstairs and run under a sleek queen-sized bed. The exposed brick is just as dark as the wall downstairs, and the furniture is the same glossy white material as the dining table and island countertop.

Warmth trickles down my body, knowing that Alessandro went through all of this to make a room comfortable for me. Triggers of curiosity make me wonder how long he"s known we were going to be married. Unless it"s always been like this for whoever"s spending the night.

I push the pangs of jealousy out of my mind to focus on my call with Anita. Her voice is soothing and compassionate as she speaks. "First, I know you went to Top Gott today. How"s Shay doing?"

"The picture of perfection, as always. She was fucking attacked in there. Goddamn animals. Had the nerve to tell Dad, but left me out the loop. No one told me I was marrying Alessandro until I stepped into the church."

"Shit. I"m sorry, babe. At least he looks good."

"He fired Jenkins, and no one"s telling me what"s supposed to happen next," I tell her, walking around the room. A huge window overlooks the backyard. It"s small and shares a black fence with the brownstone behind it. Not much for views, but a window lets in light that casts onto a desk in front of it.

There"s a fireplace, electric, in the wall across from the bed, and the floor continues to heat my aching feet.

"You have to show them that you"re more than a pretty face for the Family. Show your father and Alessandro that you"re just as useful as Shay. Is there anything I can do for you, babe?"

I laugh a bit. "No, just being yourself is enough. Alessandro was fighting for me when I got to the church. It sounded like he just found out that I didn"t know what was going on, and it pissed him off."

"Don"t get wispy over that shit. Men want you compliant, not complaining. Their not telling you anything makes his job in whatever bullshit is going on harder. If you and Shay are okay, that"s cool. Don"t waste time talking to me, though. Go talk to your husband. I can hear the questions spinning in your head from over the phone."

"You"re right, Nita. I"m going to talk to Alessandro. Maybe if I can actually help either Family"s plan, we can dissolve this marriage."

"Sounds like a plan to me. Get to it, Ev. Love you. Stay safe."

"You too." I end the call and finish looking around the room. A short hallway takes me into an open closet area that wraps around to an ornate master bathroom with large black marble tiles, a similarly black vanity with double sinks, and a large shower head encased behind a wall of glass. There"s a clawfoot tub in the corner, and I come to a pocket entryway holding four doors. The doors facing each other are His and Hers toilets.

"Cute. No one should have to use the same toilet, right?" I laugh to myself. "What"s in here?"

I open another door that"s a simple linen closet. The other one is locked, but I"m guessing from the layout that it"s Alessandro"s room. A Jack-and-Jill master suite is certainly better than two closet-sized ensuites for the individual rooms. The shower alone looks like it can fit five people inside.

After freshening up, catching my reflection in the mirror shows the exhaustion riding my face. I toss my hair into a loose bun and rifle through the clothes in the closet. Every item is my size, but it"s sparse and makes me think my father and Jenkins had something to do with this as there are tags like they"ve been purchased recently. Too many secrets from the men in my life who"re supposed to protect me are driving me crazy. Yet, I"m not opposed to taking advantage of the generosity, changing into a pair of yoga pants and a tank top.

Comfort is king as I continue learning my new surroundings. There"s a closet door between the hallway and nightstand beside the bed. It looks similar to the one belonging to the pantry. However, when I open it, it"s actually an elevator.

I can"t stop myself from stepping inside the small space. It holds up to three people at best, and noticing there"s actually three floors in this home piques my interest. I hit the basement button, wondering if it"s some fancy wine storage. It wouldn"t surprise me after seeing the quiet luxury of the designs in the home. That and I can use a drink.

When the elevator door opens, subtle shades of white and red lighting pull me into the room. The entire space exudes passion, power, dominance, and raw sexual energy. The X-shaped cross on one wall has my imagination running wild.

Two armchairs sit across from it with a small table between them. My attention hops from one area of the room to another. It"s neat, intimidating, and has my curiosity soaring through the roof.

Who is this for?

Four posts frame the platform bed with an iron headboard bolted to the wall. There are three steps making up the bottom of the bed"s platform. A black leather bench stretches across the foot of the bed that beckons me to look inside.

The sound of my heart thumping against my eardrums consumes me as I look into the bench. An assortment of toys and things that can pass as weapons stare back at me. A ferocious-looking whip, heavy handled with a braid that branches into three strands with small knobs at the end looks too tantalizing to leave alone.

"Who the fuck did I marry?" I ask myself.

I lose myself, sifting through the bench"s items, when I hear footsteps approaching. I practically leap out of my skin when Alessandro appears behind me. He grabs me by the wrist, hard and possessive, snatching the whip out of my hand. The swiftness of his movements catches me off guard. It takes more than a few seconds to see what he"s done.

My wrist is cuffed to the bedpost with Alessandro"s dominant gaze locking onto me like a predator to his prey. A shudder ripples through my body as I picture the myriad of ways he could devour me.