Page 60 of Tainted Obsession 1

I turn my attention to Evelyn, satisfied that we’ve passed Duarte’s scrutiny. After they leave the suite, I kiss her soft cheek.

“You did so well,farfallina.You make me very happy.”

“I meant what I said,” she replies without any guile. “I know you’ll protect me, Massimo. I’ve always known that. There’s no doubt in my mind.”

I lift our joined hands and press another reverent kiss to her knuckles.

How am I lucky enough to ensnare the brave devotion of this stunning woman? She looked a cartel king and queen squarely in the eyes and declared her loyalty to me. She fears them, but she’s passionate enough to boldly advocate for me.

My chest warms. I’ve never known a connection like this. I’ve never shared the secrets of my past with anyone.

In my world, women are fleeting indulgences, a way to attain carnal satisfaction through exerting my control over their pleasure. I don’t have time for distractions, so I like submissive women who obey me without question.

Evelyn has dared to defy me a few times, but I enjoy her fire. I relish the challenge of dominating a woman with such strength of character. It makes her submission so much sweeter.

The raw honesty I shared with her in the wake of my nightmare should unnerve me, but I only crave her more. I want more of her tender, soothing touches, more intimacy. It’s utterly foreign to me.

A knock on the door indicates that Carmen already ordered food for us, so I quickly retrieve it. Evelyn helps me set the dining table, and the odd domesticity of the moment warms something deep inside my chest.

I suddenly need to know more about her. I’ve seen glimpses of her sweet soul, and I’m enamored with her beauty.

But she now knows some of my darkest memories, the ones that still torment me in my sleep after all these years. I need her to be vulnerable with me too. The desire to possess her completely consumes me. I’ll learn every one of her secrets, just as I’ve entrusted her with mine.

“Tell me about your family.”

I don’t bother to soften the command to something more conversational. She will tell me everything about her. I’ll coax her if I have to, but in my eagerness to know her, I can’t summon up any finesse.

She drops her gaze and picks up her fork, her expression smoothing to a neutral mask. Her hand tugs free of mine so that she can cut into the fresh melon on her plate. She takes a bite before she answers me, and her eyes briefly close in a moment of blissful enjoyment.

I won’t allow her to hide from me, even if that expression of bliss makes me want to pull her into my lap and feed her from my own hand.

“Are you close with your parents?” I press.

Unease nips at me. Is that why she keeps demanding to go home to America? Because she wants to be with her family?

The prospect makes my stomach churn. I don’t want to make her unhappy, but it hasn’t occurred to me that I mightbe causing her pain by separating her from her loved ones. I’m so accustomed to my own lack of parental attachments that I haven’t stopped to think about hers.

I reach out and trail my fingers down the column of her throat, drawing her attention to me. She shivers, and her stunning gaze snaps to mine. Her eyes are dark with pain, and an echo of it knifes into my chest.

“No,” she replies softly. “We’re not close.”

“Are they dead?”

I could’ve asked in a gentler tone, but my nightmare about my parents’ murders is still close to the surface. If someone dared to deprive Evelyn of a loving family the way my enemies took my parents from me, I will make them pay.

“No,” she says again. “We just aren’t close.”

She’s shutting me out, withholding the information.

If they’re still alive, I don’t understand why they aren’t close. Any parent would be lucky to have Evelyn as a child. They should adore her.

My jaw firms with determination. She won’t escape my questions so easily.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” she murmurs, her eyes pleading.

I struggle to master my roiling emotions. My possessiveness is driving me to the edge of my control. I’m skilled in compelling people to tell me what I want to know, whether through charm or interrogation. I’ve honed my skills over the years; they’ve helped me survive.