Page 71 of Bloody Lace

Instead, I find myself wondering more and more—what would it be like, if I allowed myself to have something real with her? If we both allowed ourselves to try? And I think, after ourdinner last night, that she’s wondered the same thing too. I thought I saw it in her face, as we talked over drinks…that same question. That same urge to find out what this could be like if we let it play out, and saw where it could take us.

For the first time in my life, I want to know what it might feel like to fall in love with a woman. And for the first time, I’m starting to think that I might already have.

I spend the afternoon in my office at the mansion after getting cleaned up, trying to focus on work and mostly failing. When I get back to the penthouse, Evelyn is nowhere to be seen, but I passed Gus in the hall. I don’t think she’d try to leave without him again, not after what happened when she met Nicci for lunch, and I head up to the bedroom, wondering if she’s in the bath.

Instead, I find her propped up in bed, in lounge clothes and reading a book. The curtains are open, and she looks slightly pale.

“Are you alright?” I lean against the side of the doorway, frowning, and Evelyn looks up sharply, so startled she almost drops her book.

“Just feeling a little nauseous.” Her hand comes up to touch her throat almost automatically. “I—was sick earlier. I might have caught something.” She gives me a lopsided smile. “You should probably keep your distance.”

I’ve been keeping my distance from her for the last week, but that’s not why I feel a sudden pang in my chest. It’s more the odd normalcy of the conversation, the way it feels like something any married couple might talk about. A strange, ordinary intimacy that I’ve never had with anyone.

“Let me know if you need anything.” It sounds awkward, but I don’t know what else to say. I’ve never had someone in my house while they were sick. Never wondered if someone needed me to take care of them. I glance at her once more beforeheading back downstairs, and I see Buttons lying next to the couch, glancing at the door as if he needs something. He gets up, pacing past me and stopping in front of where his leash is hung on a hook near the door, and I frown.

It seems like he needs to go out. I start to pivot to go back upstairs and let Evelyn know, and then I hesitate, remembering how she looked. Tired and pale—definitely like she was getting sick.

I’ve never had a pet. Never had much to do with any animals, really. But after a moment’s more hesitation, I reach for the harness and leash, looking down at Buttons.

“You gonna make this easy on me?” I ask him, and his tongue lolls out, his small, furry ears twitching as he looks at me. “You are pretty cute. I can admit that.” I look at the harness for a moment before figuring out how it goes on him, and as I clip it on, he leans against my leg. “Decided I’m not so bad, after all?”

I take the dog out to the elevator and down to the main floor, ignoring the curious looks of my men stationed around the penthouse and lower floor as we walk out to the back courtyard. I let out the length on Buttons’ leash a bit, letting him sniff and walk around while he does his business, and then we head back up to the penthouse.

When we walk back in, Evelyn is standing at the kitchen counter with a takeout menu in her hand. Her eyes go wide as she sees me standing there with Buttons, and I shrug.

“You said you weren’t feeling good. I figured it was the least I could do.”

“The least you could—” She trails off, her mouth parted slightly, and I lean down to unhook Buttons from his harness. When I straighten again, that same expression is still on her face, and I chuckle, hanging up the harness and leash before walking over to her.

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” I tell her, and she swallows hard, finally nodding.

“Of course,” she says softly. “Not that big of a deal. Thanks.”

Her eyes meet mine, though, as she says it, and I can see that it meant something to her. That I stepped across some line that made her soften to me—that there’s a moment here, if I want to take advantage of it. That this moment could change something between us.

I almost step closer to her. I almost close that distance between us, lean in, and kiss her. It would be so easy. Everything that I’ve been feeling today, every question I have about how it would feel to let go, to explore what I feel for her—I could have it answered, right here.

But instead, I step back. Evelyn swallows hard, again, and I feel the moment between us break as she looks back down at the menu, one of her hands tightening against the counter where she’s leaning against it.

“I’m going to order soup,” she says, her voice cracking slightly. “Do you want anything?”

There it is again. That intimacy. Thatnormalcy. It strikes a chord deep within me, a craving that I’ve never felt before, and it fucking terrifies me. I’m the heir to the Manhattan Bratva, a man who has tortured and killed other men, a man who doesn’t know what it really feels like to fear something.

Until I’ve met this woman, who makes me feel as if I’m coming undone.

I shake my head, taking another step back. And then, giving into cowardice for the first time in my life, I pivot on my heel and walk away.

26

EVELYN

It takes me two days to figure out what the problem might be. Two days of nausea and being unable to stomach very much other than soup and bland salad and toast, before I notice, while leaning up to try to hang a piece of art at the shop, that my breasts are sore. The moment that I catch myself wincing when my arm brushes the side of it, I freeze, slowly setting the painting down and taking a slow, deep breath.

And then I open the app on my phone, and look to see when my last period was.

There’s a possibility it’s just stress,I tell myself as I look at the tracker and see that I’m two weeks late. It happened to me once before, right before finals senior year of college. I’d panicked, taking no fewer than ten pregnancy tests, convinced that a guy I’d been casually seeing had knocked me up, even though we’d faithfully used condoms. But Dimitri and I didn’t use a condom. Once.

It takes more than once, right?

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