Page 35 of Ruined By Protection
"Noah and I are a couple, yes." She pulls out a dark green dress and holds it up. "This would look amazing with your coloring."
"Evelyn!" I hiss. "I don't care about the dress right now. You're telling me you brought me to a mafia compound?"
She sighs, laying the dress on the bed beside me. "I brought you somewhere safe. Somewhere Elliott can't reach you."
I can't argue with that logic. Elliott might be powerful in Austin but even he would think twice before crossing a New York mafia don.
"Who exactly am I about to have dinner with?" I ask, trying to wrap my head around this new reality.
"Damiano Feretti is the don—the head of the family. His wife Zoe is lovely, you'll like her. Enzo Feretti is Damiano's brother. He's... intense but he's fair. Lucrezia you met." She pauses. "And of course, Noah and Matteo."
Matteo. The name sends a flutter through my stomach that has nothing to do with hunger. Matteo Caruso—the man who gave me the most incredible night of my life three years ago—is mafia.
"What's Matteo's role in all this?" I ask, trying to sound casual.
Evelyn gives me a curious look. "He's Damiano's enforcer. Handles security, the things that need… handling."
The euphemism isn't lost on me. Enforcement. Handling things. Violence.
"And you're okay with all this?" I can't keep the judgment from my voice.
"It's complicated," she repeats, but her eyes soften. "Look, I know how it sounds. But these people—they've been good to me. And they'll be good to you too."
I take a deep breath. "Okay. I guess I'm having dinner with the mafia tonight."
I pick up the green dress from the bed, running my fingers over the silky fabric. It's beautiful—the kind of thing that would have cost me two weeks' pay back when I was bartending.
"Do you mind if I..." I gesture vaguely toward the bathroom, suddenly self-conscious.
Evelyn waves dismissively. "Please, we used to change in front of each other all the time at summer camp. Remember the summer we shared that tiny cabin by the lake?"
The memory brings a small smile to my face despite everything. Evelyn and I had been inseparable that summer, staying up late whispering secrets and giggling until the counselors threatened to separate us.
"I remember," I say softly.
Before I can argue further Evelyn plops down on the bed, clearly not planning to leave. With a resigned sigh I turn my backto her and pull my T-shirt over my head, trying to be quick about it.
I hear her sharp intake of breath.
"Hazel..."
I freeze, shirt clutched against my chest.
"It's nothing," I say automatically, the lie bitter on my tongue.
I hurriedly reach for the dress but Evelyn is already touching my shoulder. I turn and her eyes widen as she takes in the fingerprint bruises on my upper arms, the yellowish marks on my ribs from last week.
"Oh my God," she whispers.
Shame burns through me. I hate that she's seeing me like this—broken, marked. I try to cover myself with the dress but it's too late.
"He did this to you." It's not a question.
I nod, unable to meet her eyes.
"I'm not going to make you talk about it," Evelyn says, her voice steady despite the anger I can feel radiating from her. "But when you're ready, I'm here. Anytime. Day or night."
She helps me into the dress, her movement gentle, careful not to press any of my bruises. The dress fits perfectly, the dark green fabric falling just past my knees.
