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I face him again, lifting my chin. "Last night was... stress relief. A biological response to trauma. People do strange things when they're afraid."
"Is that what they teach you at Juilliard? How to rationalize fucking your kidnapper?" His words are cruel, deliberately provocative.
"Don't be crude." I feel my cheeks flush with anger—and something else I refuse to acknowledge. "And don't mistake physical attraction for emotional attachment. I've been locked in this apartment with only you for company. It's basic psychology."
Noah steps closer, invading my space. I force myself not to back away.
"So clinical, Evelyn." He reaches out, tracing a finger along my jawline. "But your body tells a different story."
I jerk my head away from his touch. "My body responds to stimuli. That doesn't mean I care about you."
"Keep telling yourself that." Noah steps back, adjusting his cuffs. "Maybe eventually you'll believe it."
Noah moves toward the door, then pauses. "For what it's worth, I don't believe you either."
Before I can respond, he's gone, the bedroom door clicking shut behind him.
I sink onto the edge of the bed and my fingers tremble slightly as I reach for the coffee cup.
I don't care about Noah Rivera. I can't. Caring about him would be the most dangerous thing I could do.
CHAPTER 16
Izip up my leather jacket as Matteo steps into my apartment, his eyes darting between me and the bedroom door.
"She's still in there?" he asks, tossing his keys from hand to hand.
"Yeah. Don't let her out." I grab my helmet from the side table. "And don't let her charm you either. She's good at that."
Matteo smirks. "Unlike you, I can resist a pretty face."
"Fuck off." I check my phone, making sure it's charged. "I won't be late. Damiano doesn't like waiting."
"What's the plan with Ivan?"
I shake my head. "That's what I'm going to find out."
Matteo settles onto the couch, already making himself comfortable. "She's really got you twisted up, huh?"
I don't answer. Don't need to. The bike keys feel cold in my palm as I punch in the exit code and step into the hallway.
The elevator ride down gives me too much time to think. About Evelyn's body against mine. About the way she looked at me this morning—like I was something she needed to scrub off her skin.
She was right. Last night was just sex. Nothing more. The kind of release that happens when two people are trapped in a pressure cooker together. I've seen it before. Felt it before. It doesn't mean shit.
My bike waits in the underground garage like a loyal friend. Black, sleek, powerful. Unlike people, it never disappoints. I swing my leg over and feel the engine rumble to life beneath me. The vibration travels up my spine, clearing my head.
The morning air hits cold and sharp as I weave through traffic. New York is already awake, already moving, already forgetting yesterday's tragedies while creating new ones. I cut between cars, pushing the speed limit, letting the rush drown out my thoughts.
She doesn't want me. She wants out. I was just a means to an end.
I knew this going in. Knew it from the moment I took her. Women like Evelyn Anderson don't end up with men like me. They use us when they need protection, when they need the monster under the bed to fight the monsters at the door. Then they walk away.
The Feretti mansion comes into view, sprawling and elegant against the morning sky. I slow the bike, feeling that familiar tightness in my chest. The guards at the gate recognize me, waving me through without stopping.
I park next to Damiano's collection of cars, each one worth more priceless than the next. My helmet comes off and I run a hand through my hair, straightening my jacket.
Time to focus. Ivan's finger. The war he's starting. Evelyn's safety. That's all that matters now.