I didn’t want to admit I’d fallen for her.
My eyes felt heavy, and I didn’t want to think any more about the inevitable, so I let sleep finally overtake me.
When I woke up, the cabin was still quiet. I’d kept my shotgun next to me just in case there were any stragglers, but it seemed like no one else was coming.
Yawning, I checked the burner phone to see if Domenic had texted back. He had.
Good. Things should be taken care of here tonight so you should be able to bring her back before the new year. I’ll text you when it’s time.
My chest tightened, and a lump formed in my throat. I couldn’t believe I would be taking Gianina back in less than a week.
I didn’t know whether I should savor whatever time I had left with her or push her away so it was easier when I took her home.
I glanced at the closed door to her room. My head and heart warred on whether or not to get in bed with her.
“Fuck it.” I slowly stood from the chair, every movement making my body ache.
I should do the smart thing and distance myself, but instead I went into her room. I deserved some happiness after all the shit I’d been through the last couple of weeks, especially last night.
And what happened in the cabin stayed in the cabin.
Chapter Eleven
Gia
“Enzo!” I yelled, sitting up in bed. My breathing was ragged, my body slick with sweat.
I trembled as he shot up next to me. “What is it? Are you okay?”
I took a few deep breaths, then nodded, swallowing hard. “Just a nightmare.”
He rubbed my back. “It’s over. We’re safe. Together.”
His touch and words made me relax. He pulled me back down, wrapping me in his arms.
Kissing my neck, he murmured. “Go back to sleep. I’ll keep you safe.”
I placed my hands on his forearms, gripping them tightly. “Promise?”
“Always,” he whispered.
My stomach knotted. I opened my mouth to speak, but decided against it. Closing my eyes, I quickly fell back asleep in the warmth and safety of Enzo’s arms.
We didn’t wake up until the following morning. I couldn’t believe how much I’d slept, but I chalked it up to going through such a traumatic experience.
I was glad Enzo had cleaned up the disaster that had been left behind, even if I felt guilty that he’d done it alone.
After breakfast, Enzo’s burner phone vibrated on the coffee table as I sat sketching the Christmas tree. It had somehow managed to stay intact through all the chaos. When I arched a brow at him, he informed, “I let your dad know what happened.”
“What?” I shrieked, mortified that my father knew how I’d acted.
Enzo chuckled as he sat down in his chair. “Not everything. I just told him that Sorello’s men came and that they’d been taken care of.”
“Oh,” I replied, feeling my cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Speaking of, what did you do with the bodies?”
He smirked. “I’ll give you one guess, True Crime Junkie.”
I wanted to ask so many questions, but didn’t. I shook my head, then changed the subject. “What did my dad say?”
