Out of the Dark (28 page)

He looks down. “The same. No change. Everyone’s still there with her.”

“And Gemma?”

He sighs. “If she was going to say something to me, she would have. She seemed more focused on her mother, as she should be, so I think we’re safe for now. Maybe she’ll forget what she heard, if she heard anything at all.”

It feels strange to be in the bed I share with Stefan, holding Enzo’s hand, dressed in a nightie, and laying next to a pillow that still bears my husband’s scent.

Enzo pulls his hand away from mine, and I believe it’s because he’s thinking what I am—Stefan’s spirit is too strong here and it feels wrong to be touching each other in this place.

When he leans down, moving toward me, I realize that’s clearly not what he’s thinking. I watch his lips as they get closer to my mouth, but he doesn’t kiss me there. Instead, his cheek grazes mine as his kisses the warm skin of my neck, my collarbone. I feel him breathe in. I feel his warm scratchy skin, his hot breath as he exhales, his wet lips. He leaves gentle kisses, and a painful flame of absolute longing blazes across my body.

“Here?” I arch my neck and lean into his touch.

This room is a dangerous place for us to be touching, yet we cannot stop.

He doesn’t answer me with words but takes my wrists in his hands, pinning me to the bed as he moves his mouth to the other side of my neck and lowers his body over mine.

“Enzo, I want to, but—”

He covers my mouth with a deep and needful kiss. A kiss I can barely breathe through, much less speak.

He doesn’t care how wrong this is
.

He pushes me further down into the soft bed.

I can’t move and I don’t want to.

He holds me down with one hand as the other slides over my thin nightie and between my legs. He rolls his tongue against mine, still dancing, still dominating. He pushes my panties aside, and fingers me. He groans and lays kisses on my nose, my forehead, back to my mouth, my breasts.

I watch him. I want him.

The bedroom’s door is ajar.

So is the closet door.

I can see Stefan’s suits hanging in perfect order.

Enzo’s hand is inside me, sliding in my softness. He kisses my stomach.

“The door is open.” I manage to speak in spite of the fact that my mind is now focused on his hand and his lips moving lower.

Still, he doesn’t answer me. He doesn’t even acknowledge that I’ve spoken. He moves his mouth lower. He licks me just above where he is working to please me with his hand.

I lift my hips. I hear myself moan as I stare at the framed picture of Stefan and me that rests on the bedside table. I close my eyes and feel Enzo’s tongue inside me.

Heavy breaths and sounds that aren’t words fill the room. I feel warmth on my head. It’s sunlight, bright and harsh, shining through the window and onto our bodies. It glints off of Enzo’s dark hair and my engagement ring. I feel nervous even though I know no one is home.

Will it always feel like this? Will we always be cast in shadows of terror amidst pleasure?

“Maybe we should go to your bed.”

He breaks away from my body, and he rises up onto his knees, pulling his shirt off over his head as he does so.

He’s gorgeous
.

He still doesn’t speak, but his gaze locks with mine. Part angry, part loving, part lusting. He pulls off his belt and unzips his pants. “I remember the first day you were here. I heard my uncle fucking you. In this bed. In the middle of the day. I heard him make you come. Did you like the way he fucked you?”

Something about the way he is speaking to me is both pissing me off and turning me on.

If he wants to know, I’ll tell him
.

“Yes.”

“Did he fuck you right here? Were you lying like this?” he asks, removing the last of his clothes.

I look down at his cock. He’s so hard. “Yes.”

He holds me down, moves his hips against mine, and enters me. He doesn’t kiss me, he just stares at me, watching my face as it changes and responds under the sheer force of his thrusts. His mouth is open, his lips are wet, and his breath is fast.

My body jolts as he fucks me hard, and the bed creaks louder than it ever did when I was with Stefan.

I know what Enzo’s trying to do. He’s erasing. He’s trying to take any memories I have of my fiancé away. Fucking me hard like Stefan has in this bed. Enzo’s aggressive, but behind that, he’s vulnerable. I see it in his eyes.

The light from the window is blaring and harsh, and it makes this moment even more illuminating.

I know what he needs to hear.

“Enzo, I love you. I love you. Only you.”

He closes his eyes as if he’s thankful, and his harsh movements relax. He lowers his lips to mine, and in spite of the powerful force of his body, they are gentle.

I tell him something else I know he wants to hear. I whisper it. “He wasn’t as good as you.”

***

Afterward, I sit on what’s left of the bed, the blanket and pillows are gone. I hold the sheet to my breasts.

He doesn’t lay peacefully beside me to rest. He pulls on his pants and sits on the edge of the bed, dragging his hands through his hair and hunching over with his elbows on his knees. He’s not relaxed as he should be. He’s tense, troubled.

“We need to leave this place,” he says.

“Hey, I’m the one who said we should go to your room—”

“No. No, I mean we need to
leave
, Cari. You and me. We can’t stay here.”

I see the grieving faces of those close to Enzo in my mind. “But . . . your family. We could never come back.”

He nods. “I know, but there’s no other way. How did you feel after the first time we made love?”

“I felt terrible. I remember taking a shower right afterward. I tried to wash the feeling away but I couldn’t.” I sit beside him, and he puts his arm around my waist, pulling me close to him.

He kisses my head. He smells my hair. “That’s why we have to leave. It will always be wrong here. I want to go away and find a place where us being together is as right and perfect as it feels in my heart. I can’t sneak around like this forever, can you?”

He’s saying everything we’ve been ignoring, everything we couldn’t bear to say—the fact that this is all so flawed and fucked up.

We have no future here
.

“I’m afraid. Stefan will be devastated. He’ll be destroyed when he learns about us. I know what he is capable of. He’ll be broken, and he’ll try to break us.”

He looks at me. His face is resolute.

I’m afraid, but Enzo’s not. Our decision has been made—right here on this bed with the stark, cold winter sunlight shining on our skin. I don’t know when or how, but we’re leaving. I’m leaving Stefan, and Enzo is leaving his family.

Chapter Twenty

There’s not much I want to take with me. Everything will remind me of Stefan. All the expensive things I own are stained with his blood money.

I look down at my suitcase—a picture of my mom and dad, two pairs of jeans, and a sweater. I zip it shut. I’m ready to be gone from here.

Enzo is packing his things just down the hall.

We’re doing this
.

“Going somewhere?” a woman’s voice asks.

I turn to find Natalie peering into my room. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for
Enzo
,” she sneers.

“Sorry. Yeah, we’re just out of sorts here, you know, with Nonna and everything.”

“I know. I heard from Nora. I was wondering why Lorenzo didn’t call. He must be so upset.”

“We all are.”

Enzo’s door opens, and he pales at the sight of Natalie, clearly not happy to see her. He doesn’t move, but she runs toward him, jumps into his arms, and knocks him backward.

Ouch
.

Now I know how Enzo felt when he saw me kissing Stefan.

Enzo looks at me and wraps his arms around Natalie.

I know he doesn’t want to encourage her. I’m more certain of his love for me than I am of anything else . . . but then he closes the door to his room.

I tap my foot and sip my tea at the kitchen table.

They’ve been up there for twenty minutes
.

A tornado of worry spirals through my head, and just when I feel the scream reach the top of my throat, they come down the stairs. I bite my tongue until it bleeds.

“I was explaining to Natalie what has been going on with Nonna. She’d like to visit, so I’m taking her to the hospital.” By the look on his face, I can tell this wasn’t his idea. “Do you want to come with us?”

The thought of being alone in the car with Natalie and Enzo, having to watch her misguided flirtation . . . it makes my stomach turn.

“I think I’ll stay here, you know, in case Stefan calls.” I say the words as if they’re lines from a script, keeping up this silly charade so Natalie doesn’t get suspicious.

The last thing we need is a jealous woman ruining things for us
.

Enzo turns to me as they leave and winks.

Later that evening, I try to ease my anxiety by cooking while Icarus keeps me company. I feel as though I’m on the verge of a breakdown at this point. I’ve had nothing but time to think about the plan that Enzo and I have hatched.

It’s barely a plan—we’re leaving, that’s it
.

We have no time of departure. No destination. We’re sure to be hunted once Stefan returns and finds us gone.

Once Gemma tells him the reason
.

Enzo is under the impression that Gemma didn’t overhear us, but I’m sure she did. I’m certain her knowledge of our affair will come back to haunt us.

I throw the cooked egg from the pan into the trash, no longer hungry. The silence in the house is creepy. Only my own breath and the sound of Icarus’s paws scraping on the wooden floors.

Upstairs, I continue to pack, making more of an effort this time by entering our walk-in closet looking for belongings not given to me by Stefan. There’s not much here. I stroke the mink Stefan gave me at our engagement party, and the floor creaks beneath my feet. It sounds almost hollow.

I bend down to explore the noise further and find a seam in the carpet. When I pull the fabric back, I find a small handle that reveals a compartment. A compartment filled with the most sinister weapons I’ve ever seen. Knives, guns, indescribable tools that I’m sure are meant for torture.

I clasp my hand to my mouth and let the hatch fall shut. I replace the carpet with my feet as cold sweat drips down the back of my neck. I’m shaking.

I was always afraid of what Stefan might do if he found out, but I had nothing more than vague imaginings. Now, the mental pictures are very real.

Pain.

Torture.

Death.

I sit cowering on the couch for hours, staring at the news channel but never changing it in spite of the fact that it’s on a loop and I’ve watched it again and again. I jump at every tiny sound.

Why isn’t he back yet? What if Natalie knows and she was leading Enzo into some sort of trap? What if Gemma told Stefan, and he never went to Italy?

My trance-like state comes to an abrupt end when the television shuts off. I notice it’s not just the television that has gone off but the lamp and the digital clock on top of the cable box, as well.

I look out the window. Powerful gusts of wind blow as a warning of the coming storm. The gusts must have knocked a tree down somewhere.

I rummage through the kitchen to find candles and matches and illuminate the house to my satisfaction. Icarus is as restless as I am, and he paces the floor as I lay on the couch staring up at the candle-lit ceiling.

Animals can sense danger before humans can.

My father used to tell me,
“If you’re in the woods and you see all the birds flying in one direction, you best follow them. There’s a reason why they’re leaving.”

Icarus must sense the approaching storm.

The sound of the back door opening almost causes me to leap out of my skin, but Icarus runs toward the sound, wagging his tail.

It must be Enzo
.

I stand, and when he enters the living room, I expect to see Natalie at his heels, but she’s not there. I begin to explain about the power, but I don’t get the chance to say a word.

Enzo is before me in three steps, wrapping me tightly in his arms and kissing me. His cheeks are wet.

He’s been crying
.

I melt into him.

We need each other more than we realize. I don’t feel whole without him, as if I’m half a person—half a soul waiting to feel complete.

“I missed you.” He moves his lips over mine as he scoops me into the air, still kissing me. “I raced here to beat the family. They’re on their way home soon. Nonna’s gone. She passed.” His voice cracks.

I wrap my arms around his neck as he carries me up the stairs. “I’m so sorry. We can’t leave until after the funeral. I should be the one to call Stefan,” I tell him as we reach the dim second floor.