Page 47 of Mafia and Scars

I sink down into the chair a little, adjusting myself in my sleep pants. I don’t know what this feeling is that seems to clutch at my chest. My body’s reaction to her is obvious. She’s beautiful—it’s only natural. But the rest of it? That urge to help her and defend her. The way my hand twitched to grab her and shove her behind me when Grigory first met her and stormed up to her so aggressively.

I’m utterly clueless about why I feel like this, and that throws me for a loop. Never has a woman been more than some fantasy to keep me warm at night. I’ve always known I could never have anything real with a woman. And I’ve been okay with that. But now there’s Avelina…

Whatever this is with her, it’s upending everything within my precise, ordered life. I remember the moment at the hospital when she looked so pale and fragile. My hand had lifted halfway to her face, wanting to brush away the worry lines around her eyes, to offer somecomfort. But I’d caught myself just in time, my fingers curling into a fist.

But that urge had been so strong that it left me…shaken. I’ve never wanted to touch someone before—not like that. Not to give comfort instead of violence.

I rub at my chest again as her smile pops into my head. Sunny. Bright. It completely lights up her eyes.

I turn in my seat, opening the door a crack to watch her. All I see are her legs tangled in the blankets, one pale leg peeking out slightly. I swallow hard and lean back into the chair as a feeling of warmth spreads through my body.

I want to march back in there and reach out to her. The contradiction is maddening. Every instinct I have screams at me to avoid touch, to maintain distance, to protect myself from the overwhelming sensation of skin against skin. But with Avelina... Christ, with her I find myself wondering what it would feel like to run my fingers through that auburn hair or trace the line of her jaw. Would my body betray me with panic…or would it be different with her? The question terrifies me almost as much as the answer might.

How does one woman do this to me like no one else has? Sure, she’s beautiful, but I’ve seen beautiful women before—plenty of them. Hell, some have even tried to get my attention over the years. But I’ve never felt more than a passing glance of interest. Never felt this gnawing need to be near someone, to hear their voice, to see them smile.

Avelina has turned me into some pent-up teenager. And I don’t understand why she’s different. Whyshe’sthe one who’s managed to slip past every defense I’ve ever built. What is it about her that just has me all kinds of twisted inside and out of character? What happened to my carefully erected walls—that resolute control and measured calculation I’m known for?

A soft touch on my leg draws me out of my thoughts. A soft meow demanding attention greets me as my eyes move down to Queenie who nudges against my leg affectionately.

Tentatively, my hand extends down, and her head pushes into mypalm. A palm on her head, along her body, while she does most of the work.

Another meow sounds as she plops down at my feet and licks at one of her paws. Her head tilts to the side as she stares at me.

“What?”

She paws gently at my leg.

“No, I can’t,” I say softly.

She does it again. And a long meow leaves her as she rubs her cheek against my leg, backing up a little like she’s going to jump into my lap.

I tense. “You’re very demanding, aren’t you?”

She stares up at me, her green eyes wide and trusting.

Chewing my cheek, I bend down. Then after a few long moments, I pick her up very cautiously. As I do it, shock ripples through me.What the hell is going on with me today?I’ve never picked the cat up before—I’ve never been able to.

Queenie and I exchange glances with each other, surprise mirrored in both our expressions before she nuzzles into my lap, her paws kneading into me. It’s uncomfortable when her claws bite into the fabric of my sleep pants, but it lasts only a second or two before she makes circles.

“Happy now?”

The loud purr that answers me makes my lips twitch. She’s content, and she knows she’s safe. And that makes me happy after her life as a stray. Warmth fills my chest as my hand strokes down her neck and spine softly.

I adopted her just a few weeks ago. I still remember that first night when she ate a little, looked up at me with those unsure eyes, and then fell asleep like this and settled into a deep and peaceful sleep.

She was so tired. We’ll never really know how many nights she spent outside, alone in the cold and without comfort.

But that’s over now. Tonight, she sleepssafe.

“This is your home now, little one,” I whisper. “You’ll never have to be alone or afraid ever again.”

I pick up my phone again. But I find it hard to concentrate, soswitching gears, I turn from my email to my comfort video—Tinkerbell gliding on ice. And I wonder again who the skater is, but the image of her face is too grainy to really see anything of her features. And with a deep breath, I relax into the chair.

But I know I’m not going to be able to sleep as I keep thinking about Avelina. And because my out-of-character reactions to this woman are causing total chaos in my head.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

AVELINA