Page 48 of The Devil's Secret

He’s introduced me to all the men who work for him too. They seem decent enough, but people can’t be trusted.

But my heart, it trusts Enzo. I don’t know why, but it does. He may not be allowing me to leave, but I believe he’s doing it to protect me, even though I’d rather die if it meant Robby was safe. But I don’t think anything will convince Enzo to let me go. Even the truth.

If I tell him about my son, he’ll try to save him. If he’s too late, if Faro finds out I talked, Robby is done for. No. I have to figure this out on my own.

“Okay,” he says as we return to his pristine, white kitchen, stepping onto the dark wooden floors set beneath. “Now you can enjoy as much ice cream as you want while I’m gone.”

“And hopefully a nice, hot shower after I clean the apocalypse that is your room,” I grumble, remembering what I did. His hand snakes around my hip, that powerful body slamming to mine.

“Shower, huh?” His eyes turn heavy-lidded, and he leans close, so close a shudder races up my spine, his mouth hovering over my ear. “I kind of wish I had a camera in the bathroom right about now.”

My body grows warm and tingly, my core achy, growing wet in the way it only does for him. His gaze bores into mine, and that feeling of lust—it’s back with a vengeance.

How would it feel to be touched by someone whose touch I crave? Would it feel good that first time he enters me, knowing all the other times have been to hurt me? Would I want him in that moment, or will I be clutched in everlasting fear?

I want to know. I want to feel with him. The way only he makes me feel.

But what happens after? I’ll still need to run. I’ll still need to let him go. Again.

“I really gotta go, babe.” His voice beats with a sultry rasp, his knuckles brushing along my cheek. “Even though the last place I want to be is anywhere you’re not.”

“Enzo…” I murmur his name, wishing the intense connection between us was enough to make me whole again, but I’m ruined beyond recognition. He still doesn’t know me and all my hidden scars. It’s easy to remember, he may reject me once he does.

“I’m still mad at you,” I tease, tethered with an emotional edge.

His gaze wanders tenderly over every inch of my face. “That’s the way I like it, baby.” Those full lips dip to the corner of my mouth, and he kisses me there so lightly, one would barely feel it, but I do. I feel everything. The force of it. The touch, tingling over my entire body. He makes me feel this. Always. And with him, I never want to stop feeling.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

JOELLE

After he left,I wandered through the house for a while, familiarizing myself with my surroundings should danger strike and I’d need a place to hide. That’s how my brain thinks these days, always looking for a hole to disappear into.

Wrapping my arms around the oversized cozy sweater he bought me, I saunter past guard after guard, their stoic expression enhancing the air of danger surrounding them.

As I walk down a large corridor, I freeze when I pass a room he never showed me. The grand piano is visible through the glass door, and my fingertips tingle with reminiscence of once playing the keys so well I’d drown in the music, the world around me slipping away. Could I still play or have my hands forgotten?

* * *

FOURTEEN YEARS OLD

“Play that again,” Mom says from behind me, her palms clasped to my shoulders as I peer over at her, a smile brightening her face.

I place my fingers back on the keys, the music drifting, the sound of “Prelude No.1 in C Major” bathing us in tranquility. It’s my mother’s favorite. And it’s mine because of it.

We never had money for a piano of our own, but we didn’t need one, because this one, it belonged to my grandma. She was a classical pianist, and Mom likes to say I inherited her natural talents.

I’ve always loved to play. Once, when I sneaked into the music room at school, I played when no one was there, or at least I thought I was alone. I caught the eye of the music teacher who took me under her wing and taught me everything else I didn’t know.

“You’re truly amazing,” Mom whispers. “Don’t ever forget that, Jade.”

“I won’t.”

* * *

Thinking about her still causes a jolt of pain, knowing she’s out there, believing I’m dead, never getting closure. It’s an agony I can’t describe.

I swipe under my eyes, the wet drops soaking up my fingers. Mom would understand why I couldn’t contact her though. She spent her life protecting her children. She’d never want me to put Robby in danger.

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