Page 76 of The Diávolos: Part One
“I thought we'd established that already,” he responds.
Other than Evan calling me ‘his’ every chance he gets and declaring that he owns me, we haven’t had an actual discussion about the nature of our relationship. I need clarity.
“I mean, kind of, but what isthis?” I ask, gesturing between us. “I understand we belong to each other, but it’s much more complicated than that.”
“What’s complicated, Angelica?” he asks. How am I supposed to bring him up to my father? How will he react when he finds out I’m a mob princess?
“For starters, we’ve embarked on a whirlwind romance without truly thinking ahead. We can’t be in this bubble forever, Evan.”
“I understand, but what are you worried about, exactly?”
I keep playing with the edge of my top some more, not meeting his gaze, and feeling even more nervous. Now is my chance to tell him the whole truth, so I brace myself for the impact of my words.
“I’m the daughter of a mafia boss. My father is the head of the Kouvalakis family,” I blurt out.
I look at him and he stares back, not an ounce of emotion in his face. I’m worried I’ve already scared him off. After a moment, his face softens, and he puts down his wine glass to grab my hand.
“I know that already, Angelica. I don’t care,” he insists.
“What? How did you know?” I ask, shocked that he never brought it up.
He lifts one eyebrow and makes a face like ‘are you serious right now?’
The realization blurts out my mouth. “Right, you stalked me.”
He smirks. “I told you I do my research, angel. I know your last name, and everyone in the city is aware of the families who run these streets. Do you really think I wouldn’t have found out?”
He’s got a point. I was aware he knew my full name, but it never clicked that he could associate it to my father. It’s very clear what my family does, and Evan was mystalker.I shouldn’t be surprised.
“Then, why didn’t you say anything? I’ve been so worried that you’d want nothing to do with me if you found out.” My voice ends in a whisper.
Not many people would willingly involve themselves with the mob if they can avoid it. It’s dangerous, reckless, and so full of drama.
“I didn’t think it was necessary to mention, especially if it’s of no matter to me. All I care about is you.” His eyes bore into me, unflinching. My heart stutters.
“You don’t know my father, then,” I state, my tone final.
“I know exactly who he is, Angelica. Trust me, he will not be a problem.”
That sounds nice and all, but it doesn’t fix my problems. The main one being my father. The second being that I don’t know if I can fully trust Evan. My brain isn’t wired to trust blindly. In my mind, it’s guilty until proven innocent. He might not deserve this doubt, but I don’t know any other way. I’m scared that my wariness will get in the way of what we have.
Who is he really? What business does he conduct with his uncle? What’s his last name? Why have I never heard of him? Why do people want him dead? Why is he single and not married? So many unanswered questions. They make my mind go into overdrive. I can’t bring any of this up to him. I just can’t. It’ll burst our bubble and potentially ruin what is now mine.Him. But in the end, there’s still an obstacle.
“Tell me more about yourself, Evan. I feel like I’m being kept in the dark,” I ask, trying for a light tone.
“What do you want to know, angel?” he answers absently, as if his mind has suddenly gone somewhere else.
“Your name.Fullname. Where you grew up; where you went to school; who your uncle is. Will I be able to meet him?” I shoot and I catch a slight wince from him as he looks away. He hesitates for a few seconds before replying.
“My name is Evan Loukas. I grew up here, in Cebrene. My family lived in the old parts, where I went to school with Dion. Now, I live in the Heights,” he answers stiffly.
Loukas?The name registers in my head, but I don’t fully recognize it. It’s not a prominent family name in the metropolis. I think back and a tragedy that happened when I was a kid comes to mind. A man and his wife were killed, and if I’m not mistaken, their last name was Loukas. I can’t remember when, where, or how it happened, but it was the talk around town for a little while. I don’t recall them having any children, but I was too young.
“What about your uncle?” I ask as I take a sip of wine.
Evan readjusts himself on the couch and clears his throat. “He’s dead.”
Shit. I wasn’t expecting that. His parents, little sister, and uncle are deceased. Does he have any family left? “I’m sorry,” I mumble. I feel terrible for bringing this up.
