Page 55 of The Diávolos: Part Two
“Why is she hiding behind you? I hope she knows I’m not one of the bad guys.”
“I beg to differ.” Hendrick scoffs. “Plus, have you seen yourself? You’re covered in blood as if you’ve just sacrificed a lamb,” he says, pointing to my face.
I run my fingers over my cheeks and they glisten with red. I didn’t realize the blood had splattered all over my skin.
“Fair enough.” I nod and turn on my heels. “Nice meeting you, Marysol.”
When the remaining girls are all settled in Hendrick’s vehicles, we make our way back into the city.
A mixture of emotions run through my veins: exhaustion, both physical and emotional, weighs heavily on me as we get further away. It feels like a bittersweet victory.
I’m relieved that we were able to rescue the girls and prevent the traffickers from reaching whatever their destination was.Yet, beneath the surface, a profound sadness and anger linger. Seeing those girls was a stark reminder the Sisterhood still exists. That it must be abolished and that Peter must die.
Regardless of how Angelica feels, her father needs to face the consequences of his actions.
A couple hours later, I head back to my penthouse to check on Angelica. I made sure that she was okay on my return from the border mission, texting her to confirm that she was alive, well, and eating. And the response I received was short and blunt. I guess she’s still upset with me.
When I walk through the door, I hear Angelica’s soft giggle echoing through the hallway.
Not wanting to interrupt her fun, I quietly put my keys away and slip off my shoes. My housekeeper is here—I can smell Moussaka being made—so I assume Angelica is in the kitchen helping her.
I approach the door and catch a glimpse of Angelica’s brown, curly hair bouncing as she animatedly talks to Helen, a glass of wine in her hand. I haven’t seen her this at ease in a long time.
Her eyes are crinkled at the edges from her grin and her beautiful white teeth are visible through her perfect, plump lips. She’s breathtaking. A tightness in my chest reminds me of how much things have changed between us. How I wish she would smile like that at me again.
I clear my throat to get their attention and Angelica’s grin is immediately wiped off her face. She puts the almost empty glass of wine down on the counter and clears her throat.
“You’re back,” she says, trying to compose herself. When she looks up, she startles and eyes me warily. “You’re full of blood.”
I almost forgot about that. Wanting to come straight home to Angelica, I didn’t bother making a stop to clean myself up. “You should see the other guy.”
She doesn’t acknowledge my quip as I walk around the island and greet Helen—who doesn’t bat an eyelash at my appearance—with a kiss on the cheek. “It smells great, as usual.”
Angelica’s brows shoot up in surprise. She’s probably never seen me be affectionate with anyone other than her. Little does she know, I do have a soft spot forsomepeople.
“Yes, I’m home. I told you I’d be back for dinner,” I finally reply.
She nervously pulls on the hem of her shirt. “You did. I guess I didn’t see the time.” She gives my body a once-over. “Did you get hurt?”
I walk over to her, and she doesn’t move, although I can tell from her tense frame that she wants to make a run for it. My proximity puts her on edge, and I revel in it. It fuels me, makes me want toconsumeher.
“We intercepted a truck heading toward the Antium border. We were successful.”
I had briefly told her about her father’s plan, but given everything that’s been happening, I hadn’t gone into specifics with her.
“Oh my god, Evan. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? What if something had happened to you?” she exclaims. Her panic causes a smile to instantly paint on my face. It might not seem like much, but this reaction is the most genuine emotion toward me I’ve gotten from Angelica in a long time.
“Are you worried about me, Angelica?” I ask with a smirk, my tall figure almost engulfing her.
She turns her face, no longer able to hold my gaze. “No.” I can tell it’s a lie. There’s genuine concern etched on her face.
I grab her chin between my two fingers and stare deep into her eyes. “Admit it. You were scared something happened to me. That I got hurt.” The thought of her being worried about me spreads a warm sensation through my chest, and an involuntary smile tugs at the corners of my lips.
She lets out a shaky breath. “Maybe.”
Her breath hitches in her throat and she looks at my housekeeper to make sure she isn’t paying attention, but Helen is busy bustling over the steaming pots and pans.
“She knows better than to listen in on my conversations,moró mou,” I whisper.
