Page 4 of Endless Obsession

“I know,” I said before he could get offended. His English was impeccable. “But I want to learn Italian. I’m good with languages, and I can start picking it up if we put on the subtitles.”

His silver eyes shone as they studied my face. “You want to learn Italian?”

I smiled at him. “Yes. If I’m going to Italy with you, I need to speak the language.”

His expression shuttered. “I’ve been thinking about this.” The solemn heaviness in his tone made my stomach drop. “You were shot because I kept you here with the cartel. I didn’t keep you safe. You were hurt because of your association with me.”

My heart twisted, and I grasped his hand in a desperate grip. His words were laced with guilt and something I didn’t want to acknowledge. It sounded like a prelude to goodbye.

But I’d committed myself to staying with him before the firefight had broken out in Stefano’s club. And now that he’d cared for me so tenderly as I recovered over the last few weeks, I was more attached to my dark savior than ever.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I said firmly. “George dragged me into this world when he decided to be on the cartel’s payroll. He chose to work for Los Zetas. You saved me from them. And from him.”

He shook his head, glossy black curls swaying around his gorgeous face. “You said you wanted to go back home to Albuquerque. I refused to let you leave me. You were in the line of fire because of me.”

“No,” I insisted, clutching him more tightly so that he couldn’t put distance between us. “If I’m not with you, George will get to me. He’ll kill me to keep his corruption secret. You keep me safe, Massimo.”

His lips twisted with regret. “I won’t leave you unprotected in Mexico City. But if I send you back to the feds in America, he won’t be able to get to you. I was selfish and didn’t want to be parted from you, so I kept you.” His eyes were dark with pain. “Once you’re fully recovered, I’ll take you home.”

I squared my shoulders, harnessing my defiance to quell the pain in my heart. It wasn’t the sting of rejection; it was a keen, cutting sense of loss. I couldn’t lose Massimo. I wouldn’t allow him to send me away.

“You will take me home,” I said evenly. “To Italy. I want to stay with you, Massimo.”

He shook his head again, his features drawing harsh with determination. “That’s not your choice. I vowed to protect you, and that means sending you back to Albuquerque. I always keep my promises.”

“Then promise me that you won’t send me away,” I demanded. “Because I don’t want to go.” I tipped my chin back and allowed my stubborn gaze to clash with his. “Respect my choice, Massimo.”

His dark brows drew together. “I do respect you, Evelyn. But I won’t put you in danger. My life is dangerous. It always will be. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you because of me.” His cheeks colored with something like shame. “It already has happened. You were shot. I thought you were dying. I can’t lose you.”

I cupped his cheek. “The only way you’ll lose me is if you send me away.” I leaned in and brushed a kiss over his taut lips, reassuring him that I was alive and safe in his arms. “I’m right here,” I promised. “I’m okay.”

“You’re hurt,” he said gruffly.

“And you’re taking care of me,” I countered calmly.

“Farfallina…” His voice was rough with longing.

“No one has ever taken care of me,” I whispered. “I’ve never let anyone. But I trust you, Massimo. Don’t make me go. Please.”

He released low sound like a pained groan, and his lips were drawn to mine as though by a magnet. He kissed me like I was made of glass, careful not to jar my injury. I longed for him to sweep me up in a savage kiss and claim me ruthlessly, but I knew I had to recover first. Soon enough, I’d feel him inside me, joining us in the most intimate way possible. Because Massimo wasn’t capable of letting me go any more than I was able to leave him. I wasn’t sure if I would survive separation, and not just because George still posed a threat to my life. If I lost Massimo, my heart would shatter.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured against my lips. “My sweet Evelyn.”

“Does this mean you’ll teach me Italian?” I asked breathlessly, desperate for his reply.

“Anything for you, dolcezza,” he vowed. “I’ll make sure you feel at home in Naples. I’ll show you the kind of life I can provide for you. You will have everything you could ever desire.”

I think I already do. I kept the admission locked deep in my chest, afraid that if I declared the intensity of my feelings for him out loud, he might pull away from me again.

No one had ever cared for me like Massimo did. It wasn’t the fine gowns or diamonds that made me enamored with him; it was the safety I felt in his strong arms. I could lean on him—I could be vulnerable—and he would never betray my trust in him. It was more than I’d ever dared to dream of.

I sighed and melted against him, conveying everything I couldn’t say in an achingly tender kiss.

Chapter 3

Massimo

The man jerked against the ropes that bound him tightly to the metal chair, the only piece of furniture in the dank basement beneath the Camorra bar. Upstairs, Gian and Enzo would be longing for their turn to prove themselves, probably tossing and turning in their makeshift beds in the back room that we’d made our home for the last four years. The brothers were as eager as I was to become camorrista. We’d paid our dues and run errands for the Bernardi clan—everything from selling their product on the street to carrying out minor robberies, usually for booze.