Evelyn

“How did you find me?” I asked the question I had been meaning to get an answer for.

“I looked for you,” his answer was short.

“In the middle of the night?” He looked at Emily who was standing listening to our conversation.

“Emily, can you please tell Gina to pack my bags? I will be leaving in a day.” She nodded and left the room.

“You are traveling?” I asked when Emily was gone.

“I don't answer to you” his cold demure was back. “Did you see the faces of the men after you?”

I eyed him trying to figure out what his problem was. “No,” I said, laying back in bed.

“Where were you going?” he asked

“Disposing the car” he ran his hands through his hair.

“Answer me, woman,” he roared.

“I don't answer to you,” I shot back, tired from exchanging words with him.

He took predator steps to the side of the bed and bowed to face me, his eyes boring into mine.

“You belong to me whether you like it or not,” A shiver ran down my spine, every nerve in my body suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was.

“I don't belong to anyone, I haven't given you the file yet,” I returned back my words, trying to muster a defiant response, but my voice betrayed me, coming out softer than I intended.

“I own you, every part of you and every fiber of your being,” his close proximity affected me so much. His eyes moved from my eyes to my lips. “You are mine,” he whispered, the last part low and dangerous.

My breath hitched and my heart pondered so loud, I was sure he could hear it too.

His head was moving down to mine, his lips just a few breaths from mine. My mind protested against it but my body was betraying me, leaning in.

Suddenly, the sound of the door shattered the moment.

He moved away from me swiftly, leaving me cold and breathless while I sat down, wincing at the mild pain that shot through my body at the sudden movement.

“Did I interrupt something?” She asked with a mischievous smile on her face, coming inside the room.

Raffaele cleared his throat, composing himself “I was just leaving,” he said with his usual cold tone

“Really? Or are you shy, big brother?” She teased. I looked at Raffaele and he seemed unaffected. Did I imagine it or was he pretending?

Raffaele shot her a warning glance, “Emily,” he warned, but Emily’s teasing smirk only widened as she took a seat near the bed, clearly enjoying her brother's discomfort.

“I have a better business to attend to, Emily,” he muttered, his voice clipped.

He turned back to me, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer, something unreadable flickering in his eyes before he finally stepped away.

I tried to shake off and forget the warm feeling of his closeness to me but my mind was still much affected by it.

I wasn't supposed to feel this way for someone like him. I was meant to hate him just like his father.

As the door clicked shut behind him, I gave out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Emily, still seated near the bed, raised an eyebrow at me.

“So,” she began, her voice laced with mischief, “What was going on before I came in?”

I shook my head, trying to clear my mind. “Nothing. Just... discussing some business.”

Emily laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Business? Hmmm Is that what they are calling it now?”

She leaned in closer, her expression softening. “You know, he is not always this nervous, he looked shaken just now.”

“I don't know what you mean,”

Emily gave me a small, knowing smile before standing up. “Get some rest,” she said, her tone gentle. “I will bring you something more to eat later.”

As she left the room, the silence of the room made me replay the moment with Raffaele over and over again. It was a mistake, it shouldn't have happened. It was a time of weakness.

I shouldn't let my guard down; he is my ticket to fulfilling my vow and to find the Doctor.

I won't let the opportunity slip from me. Nothing matters to me more than my quest to kill the old man and Doctor, and I will find so much pleasure in doing it.

*****

Laying on this bed was making me sick so I decided to leave the room. I walked out of the room and into the living room.

This was not the mansion. This looks like a penthouse. “Evelyn, you shouldn't be walking too much in your condition,” Emily said, coming out of the kitchen.

“Stop treating me like I am about to die, I am fine”

“I am just concerned,” she replied and I nodded. “Where is Raffaele?” I asked, considering the house quiet.

“He went back to the mansion to get his things, he should have gone now. A doctor will come later in the day to dress your wound, do you care for pancakes?” She asked, going back into the kitchen.

“Yes, what can I help you with?” I asked following her into the kitchen. It was a beautiful open kitchen with a refrigerator, marble countertops, and a spacious island in the center.

Emily looked over her shoulder with a smile. “You don’t have to help. Just sit and relax. I will have everything ready in no time.”

I shook my head. “I am tired of being on that bed; it is awful,” she let out a soft laugh. “You hate someone doing things for you,” she observed.

“Besides, you will need my help, so what do you need help with?”

She hesitated for a moment but then nodded, gesturing toward the ingredients laid out on the counter. “Alright, if you insist. The mixing bowl is right there. Just be careful with your shoulder.”

“What should I do with them?” I was confused about what to do.

“You just have to-” She paused and stared at me. “You don't know how to make pancakes, do you?”

“That is why I am here,” I said. She smiled amusingly and instructed me on what to do.

As I started mixing the flour, eggs, and milk, I couldn’t help but think about Raffaele. Why did he have to leave so suddenly? Did he find the person behind the attack at the Mall?

“Is there something on your mind?” Emily asked gently, breaking into my thoughts.

Masking my thoughts with a careless shrug of my shoulder I replied “Nothing”

She didn’t push for more, simply nodding in understanding.

I gave her the batter and she poured the batter onto the hot griddle as we fell into a comfortable silence. The sizzle of the pancake cooking filled the room, along with the aroma of vanilla and butter.

As I watched the pancakes bubble and rise, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of calm. The kitchen, Emily’s presence, even the mundane task of making breakfast— it all felt like a home.

A home I never had or belonged to.

But I knew it wouldn’t last. Soon, Raffaele will be back, and I will give him the file; I will become his in every sense.

Things will change and I know ugly events will occur.

For now, though, I allowed myself to enjoy this brief moment of peace.