Page 28 of Ruined By Protection
"I mentioned the situation to her," Evelyn says, not meeting my eyes. "She was adamant about helping."
I nod. Even though I'm confused.
Evelyn sighs, watching my face and probably recognizing my confusion. "I don't know much, honestly. Hazel called me out of the blue asking for help. She sounded... scared." She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "I told Lucrezia that my cousin needed somewhere safe to stay for a while and she immediately offered the mansion."
"And you didn't ask why your cousin suddenly needed a safe house?" I can't keep the disbelief from my voice.
"She's family," Evelyn says firmly. "When family asks for help, you help. Questions come later."
I lean back in my chair, studying her. Evelyn's usually open face is now a careful mask but I detect something in her eyes—worry, maybe fear. Whatever's happening with her cousin, it's serious.
"Fine," I say.
Hazel
My heart bangs against my ribs as the plane finally touches down at JFK. The past hours feel like a fever dream—sneaking out while Elliott was gone, the taxi to the airport, the feeling that he would somehow know where I was heading even though I left my phone behind. I know he will track the call with Evelyn.
Every time the flight attendant walked past I tensed, half-expecting her to lead Elliott's security team. But they didn't appear. I made it.
I adjust my sunglasses as passengers start grabbing their bags. My hands shake as I pull my small carry-on from the overhead bin. It contains everything I could safely take—some clothes, my mother's locket, and the cash. Not much to show for twenty-four years of life on this earth.
The walk through the terminal feels endless. Every security guard makes my pulse spike. Every announcement over the PA system sounds like a warning. I keep my head down, sunglasses firmly in place despite being indoors.
Finally I exit, walking toward the arrivals hall where Evelyn promised she’d be waiting.
I scan the crowd, searching for my cousin's familiar face. Then I spot her—waving frantically, her hair bouncing as she jumps to be seen above the crowd. Relief floods through me so powerfully that my knees nearly buckle.
"Hazel!" she calls, pushing through the throng of people.
I rush toward her, dropping my bag as she wraps her arms around me. The familiar scent of her envelops me. For the first time in months I feel safe.
"You made it," she whispers fiercely in my ear. "You're here. You're safe now."
My throat tightens as tears threaten to spill. I want to collapse in her arms, to finally let go of the terror and tension I've been carrying. But something makes me look up, past Evelyn's shoulder.
And that's when I see him.
My body goes rigid. This can't be happening. This can't be real.
Matteo.
He's standing a few feet away, those intense amber-brown eyes locked on mine, his expression shifting from irritated boredom to shock horror. The same chiseled jaw, the same broad shoulders, the same man who's haunted my dreams for three years.
"What the hell?" I whisper, my voice barely audible.
I can't speak. Can't move. Can't figure how the man I spent one unforgettable night with three years ago is standing in JFK airport, staring at me like he's seen a ghost.
Next to him I briefly scan another man—tall, dark-haired, dangerous-looking—watching this reunion with calculating eyes.
My entire body goes cold as I stare at Matteo. The shock of seeing him paralyzes me completely. I'm vaguely aware ofEvelyn's hand on my arm, her voice asking if I'm okay, but it sounds distant, underwater.
Three years. Three years since that night in Austin. The kitchen table. The hotel suite. The way he touched me like I was something precious. The way I slipped away before dawn.
And now he's here. In New York. With my cousin.
"Hazel? Are you alright?" Evelyn's voice finally breaks through my daze.
I force myself to nod, unable to tear my eyes away from Matteo. He's even more handsome than I remember—his dark hair slightly longer, his jaw more defined, his presence somehow more commanding. He's wearing a custom-cut suit that fits him perfectly, highlighting the broad shoulders I once dug my nails into.
