Page 4 of Diavolo

Bitches tended to get hurt whenever Mikey was in a shit mood.Bitches like her. Mikey never hit hard enough to warrant an ER visit, but every time he turned violent, resentment and shame cut deeper than the scars left on her body. Elyse hated Mikey because she couldn't retaliate.And he fucking knew it.She was no match for him. Physically or otherwise. The fucker relished in her helplessness. He was counting on the fact that she'd never do anything to fuck up her chance at freedom. Her debt was almost paid off. Elyse had come too far, the finish line was too fucking close, and she was desperate to cross it. Then and only then could she escape the shackles that the Mancinis placed on her. Shackles named Stefano and Mikey. For now, she needed to grin and bear it.

Stefano released a nasty chuckle. "Smart girl. You know how this shit works by now."

"See ya, doc," Mikey chirped.

Elyse's left cheek stung like a motherfucker.Where Mikey smacked her.Her right temple ached, too.Where she hit the ground.The two older men hurried out, and, once the front door clicked shut, Elyse was alone in her apartment with a busted face and a total stranger. Well, maybe not atotalstranger. Thanks to Mikey's earlier slip-up, Elyse caught the first two syllables of her patient's name—Aless.

What was his full name? Something Italian, most likely. Elyse quickly shoved these thoughts aside. The less she knew about him, she reminded herself, the better.

The man began to stir. Her gaze drifted toward him. Now that his life was no longer in danger, Elyse couldn't help regarding him as a man, instead of a patient, for the first time since he stumbled into her home tonight.

Or was it morning?

She didn't know anymore. Her temple still pulsed with discomfort, but the pain in her cheek began to subside. In her sleep-deprived and adrenaline-charged state, reality disconnected from her mind. Against her better judgment, Elyse found herself sneaking glances at the man shuffling on her floor. He looked neither young nor old, maybe somewhere in his early thirties, and he was very handsome. Black hair. Long, lean, muscular build. A few tattoos. Quite possibly the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on.

With a moan, he settled back to sleep. Elyse's muscles relaxed slightly.Good. He was out again. This meant he wouldn't be raising any hell. She went to retrieve a spare pillow and blanket. Elyse tucked the pillow under his head and laid the thick blanket over him. He needed to keep warm after losing all that blood. Elyse set an hourly alarm on her phone to check on his vitals.

Finally, she settled on her couch to get some rest. She usually opted to stay close to her patients when they were in critical condition, like this man, instead of retiring to her bedroom. If he died on her watch, she might as well save Stefano and Mikey the trouble and go drown herself in the fucking Hudson. The night's harrowing events had left her nerves stretched thin. Yet, as soon as Elyse lay down on the couch, it didn't take long for her distress to take a backseat. She passed out from exhaustion within seconds.

At 6 am, her hourly alarm sounded. Dim light trickled through the window, and Elyse awoke again to check on her sleeping patient. Her shift at the hospital would be starting soon, she needed to get ready for work, but the man had bled through his bandages. They needed to be redressed right away. Reluctantly, Elyse decided to call in sick. Over the past few months, her fucked up arrangement with Stefano and Mikey had eaten away much of her PTO.And then some. Her Chief of Surgery wasn't happy with her at all. She was skating on thin ice. But what couldshe do?A lo hecho, pecho. What was done—was done.Only the future was unwritten. She needed to be a woman of action. Not one who dwelled on the past. The man in her living room wasn't stable enough to be left alone for the whole day. Right this moment, staying alive felt more important than keeping her job.

His eyes fluttered open right as Elyse started cleaning his wound. He smiled at her faintly."Angelo."

Her heart skipped a beat as his dual-colored eyes landed on her face. A frown appeared. Gently, he raised his fingertips to her cheek and temple, tracing the spots where Mikey had wounded her.

"What happened here?"

Anxiety coiled in her. "Nothing."

When the man's hand fell away, Elyse's skin still felt warm from his touch. Caught off guard in more ways than one, her brow rose as realization struck. Were the bruises visible already?Mierda.Shit.

"They do not look like… nothing. They look fresh. You did not have them earlier."

Something moved within her chest.Shock. And something else. It felt impossible to describe. This man had been half-dead the first time he laid eyes on her. The fact that he noticed such a trivial detail about her face—while fighting for his life, no less—put Elyse on edge. "You must be mistaken."

The man's stare, an unwavering brown and blue-gray, lingered on her face. "How did you get hurt? Tell me."

"I tripped and fell," she lied just to get him off her back, "and some doors got in my way."

Or something.

He glared at her bruises. "Both times?"

"Accidents happen."

The man gave a pause and then asked, "Is that what they told you to say?"

He knew.

Elyse smiled faintly. "Does it matter?"

His gaze narrowed. "I could have them removed. If you wish."

A chill ran through her as she echoed, "Removed?"

"They can splintered by an ax. Or a sledgehammer. I imagine they burn easily, too," he drawled. "The possibilities are endless. Like you said—accidents happen."

Her expression hardened. "What the hell are you talking about?"

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