Page 47 of Diavolo

Elyse was tempted to try her hand at conversing in broken Italian with him, but it seemed too early to reveal her trump card. Thus, she continued in English, "Is this your first time in Paris?"

He shrugged.

Despite her best efforts to be friendly, Monte had yet to crack a smile. Frustration rose. Elyse knew she was failing to make a good first impression on her jailer. The man clearly had no interest in talking to her. Perhaps, their language barrier was too great to scale. Or maybe he simply didn't like her.

With brusque, efficient movements, Monte gathered up the bags and motioned for Elyse to follow him into the building. They went up to the fifth floor. Her mouth parted as they entered the flat. It was jaw-droppingly beautiful. The walls featured decorative molding with fanciful curves and rectangular panels. Intricate rosettes and bronzed crystal chandeliers adorned the ceiling overhead. An ornate gold mirror hung above a white marble fireplace. Warm-toned parquet floors and pristine white walls served as a backdrop for the opulence. Antique furniture constructed of natural woods, lush textiles, and touches of gold elevated the flat to something one might see in a luxe-kissed Parisian fever dream.

In this welcome moment of respite, the loveliness of it all distracted Elyse. She felt as though they'd stepped into another world. With wide eyes, she peered down the hallway and peeked inside the rooms. Each one more lavish than the next. Then, the novelty began to wear off, reality set in, and Elyse remembered that she was stuck here with a Sicilian mobster who'd been assigned to keep her from escaping and getting killed by his boss' enemies.

Papáhad been right. All that glittered wasn't gold. Everything around her was beginning to feel like a gilded cage.

Time with Monte crept by in snail-like increments. Figuratively speaking, Elyse's back nearly broke from carrying their one-sided conversation on her own. The scarred man communicated mostly through grunts, curt nods, and jerky headshakes. An hour passed before Malina and Luca arrived at the flat. When the pair stepped through the front door, Elyse was relieved to see them. Malina gave Elyse a warm greeting and took a minute to fill her in about the dress appointment.

Luca greeted Elyse as well. The younger man had dark features, slicked-back, black-brown hair, and seemed much more talkative and easy-going than Monte, but he also took care to avert his gaze. Why wouldn't they look at her? Elyse wondered if she'd done something to offend them.

Later, when she asked Malina about their strange behavior, the housekeeper simply smiled and said, "Do not worry about Monte and Luca, Dr. Romero. It is a sign of respect."

"Really?"

"You are the boss' woman, after all."

"Good to know," Elyse murmured. She meant it, too. She'd been taking notes of everything regarding the unspoken rules and norms that dictated her new life. "Thank you for taking the time to explain these things to me, Malina. I’d be lost without you."

"Think nothing of it, Dr. Romero," Malina remarked. "I find your willingness to adapt to new circumstances—admirable."

Their eyes met, green finding blue, and a flicker of trust forged between the two women.

At three o'clock sharp, a team of stylists paraded a sea of white tulle, ivory silk, and cream-colored lace wedding gowns into the living room. They put Elyse in one stunning couture dress after another. Each gown had been plucked straight from the latest runways of Marchesa, Vera Wang, Monique Lhuillier, and Carolina Herrera. As Elyse saw herself in one wedding dressafter another, the idea of marrying Alessandro no longer seemed as far-fetched as it had twenty-four hours ago.

"You look like an angel," Malina gushed, "Signor Vitalewill be beside himself when he sees you walking down the aisle."

"You're too kind," Elyse returned with a smile. But there was a shadow of resentment in her eyes. She didn't want to be a bride. Elyse glanced at the mirror again. The older woman was right, though. The dresseswerebreathtaking. She felt beautiful in all of them. Suddenly, the idea of marrying Alessandro became a bit more bearable. As Elyse stared at her reflection, a mixture of dread and excitement rattled through her.

At the thought of her husband-to-be, Elyse's heart thudded once more with worry. What was he doing right now? A grimace tightened on her mouth. The bastard better not be getting himself shot again. Right as this dark thought crossed her mind, Luca reappeared in the living room. The timing felt ominous. His face wore a strained expression. "We must go, Dr. Romero. There has been an accident."

Malina's brow wrinkled with concern. "But she has not selected a dress yet."

"The boss needs her," was all Luca needed to say to convince Malina to start sending away the stylists and their dresses.

Elyse's heart began to slam against her chest. Genuine distress spiked her pulse. She started wriggling out of the gown. Luca closed his eyes and turned to face the opposite wall until she changed back into her regular clothes.

"Did something happen to Mr. Vitale?" she demanded. "Is he hurt?"

"No time to explain," Luca muttered. "But someone got shot. Bring whatever you need to keep him alive."

With a nod, Elyse didn't hesitate to leap into action. "Give me a minute."

She ran to retrieve her medical supplies and surgical tools. They left the flat in a hurry. Like a madman, Monte drove Luca and Elyse through the posh streets of the 16th arrondissement to a much seedier part of the city. They eventually pulled up to a small, rundown-looking building in the 19th arrondissement. There was a sign overhead—Clinique Charles Aveline.Once they entered the clinic, Elyse's eyes grew wide as she spotted the third man from the jet, Marcello, spread out on an exam table with blood gushing from his shoulder. He was accompanied by a blonde woman and three other tough-looking men that Elyse didn't recognize.

Alessandro was nowhere in sight.

She shoved aside this heart-wrenching observation and got to work on her patient. Marcello had taken a bullet to the shoulder. Thankfully, the small clinic was well equipped, especially compared to the shitty conditions in her apartment whenever Stefano's men needed stitching up. There was an X-ray machine and anesthesia available. In two hours flat, Elyse removed the shrapnel from Marcello's shoulder, disinfected the wound, and then sutured him up. He'd most likely live.

Elyse slept in the clinic to monitor Marcello's vitals through the night. Luca and Monte stayed with her. The next day, Marcello's condition seemed more stable. The three of them transported him back to the flat. Malina helped Elyse keep a close eye on Marcello so she could get some rest. The housekeeper was a quick study. She listened to Elyse's instructions carefully and executed them flawlessly. The woman would've made an excellent nurse.

Elyse tried not to obsess over the fact that Alessandrostillhadn't returned to the flat. He'd yet to respond her numerous calls or texts, and no one was willing to give her any information. Apprehension ate at her. Why had he disappeared for two whole days? Was he hurt? This was as far as Elyse's paranoia allowedsuch thoughts to wander before self-preservation kicked in. She couldn't bring herself to entertain the worst-case scenario.

Around 3 am that night, Elyse heard the sound of footsteps padding along the parquet floors. She sat up from the bed and switched on the light. Brown and blue-gray eyes found hers, and she forgot to breathe for a moment.

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