Page 71 of Wicked Mafia Sinner

This woman.

I rescued her, but she rescued me right back. It rips my heart out to think she felt in danger at all while under my care. She ran because she believed I could do it. That says a lot about what she understands of my world. I wish it was not like that, but I also can’t change who I am. I can only protect her.

I press my hand to her lower back and guide her inside. The whole time she is still talking. Eastern exposure, condensation cycles, moisture absorption rates of cedar versus pine versus composite materials. Her hands are slicing through the air and I can't stop watching them.

I lean in and kiss her forehead. Pine needles cling to her white hair. My shirt hangs off her shoulder. Her boots are muddy, the right one scuffed from the root that caught her toe during the run.

I am going to marry this woman.

I guide us through the cabin and into the compound. We head straight for the shower and strip along the way. In seconds steam fills the bathroom. She’s grown quiet. I guide her under the water and help her pick the pine needles out of her hair. All the while she laughs at herself, at me, at the absurdity of a morning.

I understand why she would run, but I have a hard time accepting she was at any time fearful of me. My need to see to her every desire is all consuming. I don’t know how I missed her carrying even the slightest of mistrust for me. The truth is, people have always feared me. I enter a room and most people leave. My name comes up in a conversation I’ve heard rumors come back that a lot of people cross themselves and say a prayer.

Nothing to be proud of, but it’s the truth of my life.

That is never how I want Cora to feel about me.

I take my time washing her hair. I reach for the shampoo and give her hair a deep lathering.

Rinse. Repeat until all the leaves, needles and dirt wash away.

Her moans and sighs tell me I’m doing something right.

After rinsing the shampoo, I palm the conditioner and work it in one section at a time. It makes me come alive inside to see her relax into my arms and trust me with her body. I don’t care what it takes, but I will spend the rest of my life making sure she knows she can trust me with her heart and soul, too.

As the conditioner sets, she drops her head to my shoulder. Holding her, I follow the thin red line of a scratch. My jaw tightens. She got this running from me. Running because she believed I was the man her ex taught her to fear. It is an extra level of bitterness in my gut to know he’s my son.

After I help her rinse the conditioner, I do the same for myself.

After we are both rinsed, I reach out and grab a towel for her and one for me.

She is quiet when we dress. Not her usual quiet where she’s contemplating something she’s read or is wanting to ask me something.

After drying her hair, she pulls on a fresh shirt. This one a deep purple from my side of the closet. She goes for panties next, but leaves off the bra. I love that she’s comfortable in what is her home, but the lingering doubt I feel coming off her has me pulling her to me.

I tip her chin up. “What is it, Cora? What has stolen the light from your eyes?”

“I have something I have to tell you and it’s going to make you pretty mad I think.”

She steps out of the bedroom and comes back a few seconds later holding a piece of paper.

"I need you to forgive me before I give you this."

Her voice is steady, but the shake in her fingers has me worried. Her chin is lifted but I see fear in her eyes again.

I step up to her. “What did we just talk about, Cora?”

“Trust.”

“Right. You never have anything to fear either. Not with me.”

“It’s more the fact that what I am about to share with you will hurt you and I hate to do it.”

She holds the paper toward me.

“But there’s no way around it. I’m truly sorry.”

She eases her weight to the edge of the bed and I pull a chair up to face her.