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He opened the apartment door, and two men stepped into the living room. I recognized them as Massimo’s friends who had been in Mexico City when I’d first met him. They’d been in Duarte’s building on the night I’d run away from George and Los Zetas.
Massimo returned to me and took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze in a pulse of support.
“Evelyn, these are my friends, Gian and Enzo Franco.”
He gestured at the men in turn, indicating that Gian was the one with the military-short haircut and shrewd light in his dark green eyes. Enzo’s eyes were the exact same shade, but his square jaw was stubble-shaded, and his dark hair fell around his chiseled features to frame his harshly masculine face. A hint of a scar was visible at his right cheekbone, but it did nothing to diminish his ruggedly attractive demeanor. The two men were identically broad and tall, but not quite as big as Massimo. They were dressed in sharply tailored pants and button-down shirts. Enzo was in all black with his sleeves rolled up casually, a contrast to Gian’s crisp white shirt and rigid bearing.
Gian nodded at me. “It’s good to meet you properly. Massimo has been hiding you away from us.” His voice was warm and charming despite his harsh appearance. He offered me a dazzling grin, and it almost reached his keen eyes.
He was assessing me, passing judgment. I lifted my chin and met his sharp stare with a bland smile of my own.
“Massimo has been taking care of me in Mexico City,” I corrected him. “But I’m very happy to be here with him now.”
Enzo didn’t bother with charm. He cocked his head at me, his assessment more blatant than his brother’s.
Massimo lifted my hand and brushed a kiss over my knuckles. “It’s good to be home.”
Warmth suffused my cheeks, my body just as responsive to his touch as it had been on the night we’d first met.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked his friends. “I was about to open a bottle of Champagne.”
Gian shook his head. “We need to meet with the boss. He wants to talk to you about our new friendship with Duarte and Rodríguez. You’ve been gone longer than we anticipated.”
He’d been delayed in his return because I’d been shot, and he’d chosen to stay in Mexico until I was fully recovered.
“I want to get Evelyn settled,” Massimo said, his thumb caressing my palm.
“I’m afraid this can’t wait,” Gian countered. “You know Salerno isn’t a patient man.”
“I’ll stay here with Evelyn,” Enzo offered, his face still impassive. “We can get acquainted.”
Anxiety fluttered in my belly, but I smiled up at Massimo, reassuring him. “Go on. I’ll be fine here.”
“I wanted to show you around the neighborhood,” he said, his tone low with regret.
“There will be plenty of time for that later,” I said firmly. I didn’t want him getting into trouble with his boss because of me. He’d already given me so much. I could overcome my nervousness and spend time with his friend while he saw to his business.
I went up onto my toes and kissed him, a quick but fierce goodbye. “I’ll be right here, waiting for you to come home.”
His eyes sparked with pale blue fire, an all-consuming hunger that was mirrored in my own soul.
“I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.”
Massimo always kept his promises. I pressed one final kiss to his lips and urged him to go with Gian.
They left together, and a beat of awkward silence passed between Enzo and me.
“Would you like some of that Champagne Massimo mentioned?” he asked.
“No, thank you.” I didn’t need to get tipsy; I wanted to keep my wits about me so that I could navigate a conversation with a clearly dangerous man.
I’d grown accustomed to Massimo’s aura of danger, but I’d never been fully at ease around his criminal associates. I’d never gotten used to Stefano Duarte’s fearsome, mercurial demeanor. Enzo didn’t seem maniacal like the Mexican drug lord, but he was a stranger to me. I would be a fool to let my guard down.
He brushed past me, walking into the kitchen as though he was in his own home. “Let’s see what’s in the fridge.”
I followed him, taking in the modern, high-end appliances and marble topped kitchen island while keeping most of my focus on him.
“San Pellegrino?” he suggested as he surveyed the contents of the refrigerator.
