His Mafia Captor: MM Mafia Romance (His Mafia Men Book 1) by Jude Steel

Author:Jude Steel [Steel, Jude]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-06-27T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 6

LUCA

Iwake slowly, languorously, like a man surfacing from a deep, blissful dream. For a moment, I'm disoriented, my mind foggy with sleep and satiation. The bed beneath me is unfamiliar, the sheets softer than anything I've ever felt. The air is thick with the musky scent of sex and sweat and something else, something warm and spicy that makes my heart race.

And then it all comes rushing back. The safe house, the attack, the frantic aftermath. Enzo's blood on my hands, his life hanging by a thread. The desperate, aching need to save him, to keep him with me at all costs.

The way he looked at me, after. Like I was something precious, something worth fighting for. The way he touched me, with reverent hands and worshipful lips. The way he moved inside me, claiming me, branding me as his own.

I roll over, reaching for him, wanting to pull him close and lose myself in his warmth. But the bed beside me is empty, the sheets cool to the touch. I sit up, my heart lurching in my chest.

"Enzo?"

Silence greets me, heavy and oppressive. I scan the room, taking in the rumpled bed, the hastily discarded clothes. There's no sign of him, no trace of his presence save for the lingering scent of his skin on the pillows.

Fear claws at my throat, cold and sharp. Did I dream it all? The tenderness in his eyes, the passion in his touch? Was it just a fevered fantasy, a desperate attempt to find something good in the midst of all this darkness?

No. It was real. It has to be. I can still feel him inside me, still taste him on my tongue. He was here, with me, in this bed. He held me and kissed me and made love to me like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.

So where is he now?

I climb out of bed on shaky legs, wincing at the soreness in my muscles. I pull on my clothes, my hands trembling as I fumble with buttons and zippers. My mind is racing, my thoughts a tangled mess of worry and doubt.

Did he regret it? Was it too much, too fast? Did he look at me in the cold light of day and see only a liability, a weakness he couldn't afford?

I stumble out of the bedroom, my heart in my throat. The safe house is quiet, the silence broken only by the hum of the refrigerator and the distant rumble of traffic, the broken glass windows boarded up. I check the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom. All empty, all bearing no trace of the man I'm seeking.

Panic rises up inside me, bitter and cloying. I can't lose him. Not now, not after everything we've been through. Not after I've seen the man beneath the monster, the heart beneath the ice.

I'm reaching for my phone, ready to dial his number and demand answers, when I hear it. The creak of floorboards, the soft scuff of a footstep.

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