Diavolo (Devil’s Playground #1)

3. Chapter 3

3

"I am filthy."

Elyse ignored the man and went on to answer a few more emails from work.

"I stink of sweat and blood."

She maintained the quintessential poker face.

"A shower would be heavenly."

On and on, he bitched and moaned for ten more minutes. The man could shatter the patience of a saint. Finally, Elyse caved to his incessant complaints. She responded with a tick in her jaw, " Go shower then . No one's stopping you. You know where the bathroom is located."

He grunted as though she was the unreasonable one. "But I require assistance."

Today was day two of her patient's journey to recovery. For the most part, all was well. The meds were in his system. Elyse was no longer as concerned about infections. He seemed to be experiencing much less pain and discomfort as well. He was certainly very energetic for a person who just survived a near-death experience.

Stefano had stopped by in the morning to drop off some clean clothes for the man. Her handler was pleased with the man's recovery. Elyse felt relieved. God willing, she'd live to see her next birthday. There was only one small hiccup in this otherwise ideal situation. Her patient's demands were beginning to drive her loca . Crazy. Never had Elyse been charged with such a pinche fresa . Fucking spoiled brat.

She shot him a pointed look. "I already told you many times. Keep your wound dry for forty-eight hours so it can heal properly. No showering or bathing until then."

Elyse tried to concentrate on the tasks awaiting her on the laptop, but the weight of his gaze kept boring into the side of her skull. It felt very intrusive. With a sigh, she promised him, " Tomorrow . You can shower tomorrow."

Silently but stubbornly his wide-eyed gaze continued to beseech her like a sad, needy puppy. Elyse snapped her laptop shut. " Fine . You win."

He didn't reply, but a maddening smirk appeared on his handsome face.

Elyse rose from her kitchen table and disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes. She returned with a large bowl of warm water in one hand and a towel in the other. He glanced at her offerings as though they were drenched in acid. "What have you brought me?"

Her demeanor was very matter-of-fact. "A sponge bath."

Ever the opportunist, he didn't miss a beat. "I am suffering from a fatal wound, angelo . I could not possibly wash myself. You will have to do it."

Elyse sidestepped his request, "You seem to have recovered enough. Just don't get your bandages wet."

He frowned. Displeasure loomed over him like a storm cloud. "Your confidence feels misplaced. I do not feel well at all."

"Your god-like vitals suggest otherwise."

"I almost died," he reminded her.

"But you survived," she reminded him.

"I could still die."

"Not on my watch."

"Is that a promise?"

"Absolutely. Your well-being is the only thing that matters right now."

His eyes flickered. "Why, angelo , have you, perhaps, developed feelings for me?"

She grinned. "Not at all. I just don't want to die because of you."

He scowled.

Elyse bit back another grin. Much in the way an adult might deal with an unruly child, she decided to extend an olive branch to make up for teasing him. "Would you like some help getting undressed?"

His scowl slowly curved into a smile. Immediately, Elyse berated herself. She hadn't meant for her words to come out in such a suggestive manner. In a low voice, he muttered," Per favore ."

With those two words, a magnetic lull forged between them. He was still lying on the floor of her living room. Elyse knelt down beside him. The moment they made eye contact, she felt a blush creep up her cheeks. Elyse quickly looked away. Her once steady hands became embarrassingly unsteady as she started unbuttoning his dress shirt.

He asked softly, "Am I making you nervous?"

"No," she lied.

His gaze remained intent upon her. "Do not worry. I will not bite."

Her breath hitched. Elyse felt at a loss. She didn't know how to react under such scrutiny. Why did he affect her so much? As a surgeon, Elyse came across body parts on the operating table every day. She was thoroughly familiar with human anatomy, both inside and out, but, for some reason, the sight of this particular man's bare skin unnerved her to the core.

In vain, Elyse attempted to combat her wayward hormones with logic and reason. She'd seen this man at his weakest and most vulnerable, after all. It felt wrong to look at him through any lens other than a medical one. Over the past twenty-four hours, she'd been his caretaker whenever he needed to eat, drink, or use the bathroom. To her, he was a temporary responsibility. To him, she was a temporary lifeline. Nothing more should exist between them.

When the last button on his shirt came undone, Elyse lifted her eyes to meet his gaze again. Brown and blue-gray. Individually, the colors were beautiful. Together, they became striking. Logic and reason faltered as her nerves unraveled some more. "I'll, um, need you to, uh, work with me to pull your arms from the sleeves. I don't want you to put too much pressure on your wound."

Together, they worked in unison to remove his shirt. Carefully, Elyse rolled him onto his left side. He took out his arm. She maneuvered him to his right side. The rest of his shirt slipped away with a hushed, rustling sound.

Her eyes drank in the sight of his bared torso. Even with the violent scarring, his body was a work of art. Broad shoulders, muscled chest, strong arms, tapered waist. There wasn't an ounce of fat on this man. He was flawlessly chiseled and carved like Michelangelo's David. An inscription in Latin was inked onto one of his upper biceps. A coiled serpent rested upon the left side of his chest, right over his heart. There were more tattoos scattered across his upper back, his neck, and the back of his hands. Several dates were inscribed in bold Roman numerals. Some roses wrapped in more snakes. A cracked skull impaled by an ornate cross. Everything was etched in black. The man appeared to be allergic to color.

Tentatively, he reached over to clasp her wrist. Elyse realized, too late, that she had forgotten to put on her gloves. The brush of his skin against hers felt forbidden. He was her patient. She was his physician. He guided her hand toward the waistband of his trousers, letting her fingers hover over his crotch before releasing his grip on her wrist. He observed her as she ogled him. In truth, it felt as though he was always observing her. Elyse resented him for this almost as much as she hated her attraction to him.

In a devil-like whisper, he urged once more," Per favore ."

Almost in a trance, Elyse's hands began to move on their own accord. The hook and bar at the waistband of his pants unclasped. The zipper slid down. She reached around his hips to pull down his pants. He was now sprawled before her in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. An unmistakable tent greeted her. His size was impressive, and he didn't even appear to be fully aroused.

She coughed awkwardly. All of a sudden, her apartment felt overly warm and much too cramped to house the both of them. Her eyes darted toward his underwear. "Did you want to, um, leave this on?"

The man's pupils dilated, edging out the brown and blue-gray until they became black. "Would you like me to leave it on?"

No. She cleared her throat. "Yes."

"As you wish, angelo."

Elyse wrung out the towel and handed it to him.

"Grazie."

"You're welcome," she mumbled.

He wiped his face first. He dragged the towel across his neck, his shoulders, his chest. Every movement was painstakingly slow, almost to the point of being sensual, and she suspected that he was doing it on purpose. Abruptly, Elyse stood up. Time to make her exit. Let him finish up on his own. She tried to walk away. But he called her back. "I cannot reach my legs. You must help me."

Elyse considered his request with suspicion, but, admittedly, it was a reasonable ask. The man was still in recovery. With an accommodating sigh, she sank back down to her knees next to him. Elyse snaked an arm around his back and helped him into an upright sitting position before moving away again. He dipped his towel back into the basin, wrenched out the excess water, and continued washing up.

At last, he seemed settled. She directed at him, "Need anything else?"

" No ."

Elyse prompted, "In that case, I still have work to do. Can I leave you to it?"

" No ."

Her brow creased. "Then what can I do for you?"

"Nothing."

She scowled at him. "Now you're being difficult."

His smile was all innocence. " No , angelo , I am not. I simply crave your company."

Her heart tripped over a beat. Elyse ignored the sensation and declared, "I have no interest in being your friend."

A wicked gleam entered his eyes. His gaze traveled appreciatively up and down her body. "I have no interest in being your friend, either."

She swallowed, hard , under his penetrating stare. It was becoming increasingly difficult to dismiss his advances. Elyse didn't understand the lure he held over her. Normally, she was a pro at evading male attention. At work, there was a handful of colleagues who plagued her on a regular basis.

I thought Latinas were supposed to be fun? You're always so fucking serious.

Elyse had no trouble shutting them down. It was a known fact that her surgical department was an unapologetic boys' club. The pricks who lorded over it were the reason why Elyse became such a stone-cold, unsmiling bitch.

You should smile more, sweetheart.

There was a time when Elyse wanted to get along with her fellow surgeons.

Come on, se?orita, quit playing hard to get.

Elyse tried to earn respect and build camaraderie. She focused on doing her job and doing it well. She laughed at locker room jokes. She did her best to side-step advances without damaging egos. Elyse remained a team player until one of her colleagues cornered her in the break room and tried to shove his hand down her pants .

Don't be a bitch about this, okay?

That was the moment Elyse finally snapped.

I know you want it, Romero.

In response, she'd threatened to stab him with surgical scissors if he touched her again. Elyse had kept her anger in check and smiled at him. Sweetly . Just like he asked. From that point on, she became a bigger prick than the pricks around her. Otherwise, the harassment would never end.

For some reason, however, in front of her patient, she didn't feel the need to distance herself. He was annoying. But self-aware. It made him tolerable. Maybe even likable. The bastard knew exactly how to push her buttons and precisely when to back off. It seemed to be a game to him. Just how outrageous could he be before she threw her chanclas at him? The thought of flip flops bouncing off his head made the corner of her mouth twitch. She quickly suppressed the smile. If Elyse was being honest, she kind of enjoyed his antics. A bit too much.

She feigned a sigh to hide her soft spot for him. "Please stop."

The half-assed plea did nothing to deter him. He probed, "But why? Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No."

He prodded, "A husband?"

"No."

"Girlfriend or wife?"

"No. And no."

His smile widened. "Then I fail to see the problem here, angelo . Thanks to your tender loving care, I am growing stronger by the minute. I believe, in a few days' time, I will be able to repay your kindness. However you wish. Wherever you wish. As many times as you wish. If only you would let me."

His words simmered between them like a promise to be fulfilled. They were both consenting adults. Conveniently, he was nearly nude and already aroused. Unlike him, she was fully clothed, but it was a problem that could be easily resolved. Right then, Elyse prayed that Stefano would collect this man sooner rather than later. Before her wayward hormones drove her to do something incredibly stupid.

Like let him fuck her.

By Thursday, the man with brown and blue-gray eyes was still in Elyse's apartment. He wasn't shy about expressing his attraction to her. Elyse did her best to maintain a respectable distance, but, secretly, she wanted him, too. Their mutual desire beckoned like the fruit that tempted Eve.

Later that morning, her resolve wavered even more when she stepped into the shower. The stress from the last few days was taking a toll, mounting, pulsing, and coiling inside her. Such a storm couldn't be contained. Something had to give.

As hot water drenched her bare skin, Elyse closed her eyes and exhaled a breathy sigh. She shouldn't. She really shouldn't. The man was sleeping a few feet outside her bathroom. It would be inappropriate. Risky . But then the devil inside took over, chasing away the last of her reservations. The door was locked, after all. He'd never know as long as she stayed quiet. In a way, his proximity only added to Elyse's fervor. She needed to get the sexy bastard out of her system without touching him. Or letting him touch her. She wanted this. Needed it . One by one, her mind began bending the rules that couldn't be broken in real life.

Naked and fully aroused, he stepped into the shower to join her.

With a soft moan, Elyse began massaging her breasts.

Steam and spray surrounded them. The man's dark head dipped to her breasts. His lips closed around her nipple while his hand slipped between her thighs.

She teased her nipples with one hand and allowed the other to roam down her belly, over her mound, toward her lower lips.

He kissed her neck as his talented fingers traced her slit, teasing the sensitive folds and creases without quite sinking in. He then circled her clit, round and round, ever so softly. It sent shivers down her spine.

Elyse's fingers acted out her fantasy, caressing the tiny nub tucked within her folds, rubbing it until the friction unleashed waves of pleasure through her body.

She grew slick, wanting, and ready. He slid two fingers inside her.

Desperately, she dipped two fingers inside herself.

Steadily, sensually, he began to pump in and out of her. He unlocked a sweet, heady passion hidden deep within. Her senses began to soar.

It didn't take long for the movements of Elyse's hand to blur between her legs. A while later, she released a gasping, euphoric whimper. Elyse hadn't meant to cry out so loud, but her climax took her by surprise. She leaned against the tiled wall of the stall for support. Both legs felt weak. Shaky. Even in the afterglow, her heart continued to hammer away with excitement. It'd been so intense. As Elyse stepped out of the bathroom, traces of her powerful orgasm lingered everywhere. Her eyes carried a relaxed shine. She moved with an extra sway in her hips. Both cheeks were flushed. Pink and rosy. Her aura glistened with unadulterated satisfaction.

When Elyse returned to the living room, she saw her patient was no longer asleep. He appeared to be fully awake and very alert. Brown and blue-gray eyes flicked toward her. His large, muscular body was drawn tight and rigid, but his voice poured over her like molten honey.

"You were in there for a while," he noted.

She gave him a faint smile. "Long showers are relaxing. Every now and then."

"I could not agree more."

His husky tone gave her pause. Elyse frowned. "How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough."

She froze slightly. "Did you wake up because of… me?"

"Well, the walls are quite thin."

Did he hear her? Dios , she hoped not. Both of her cheeks warmed. Elyse tried to downplay her embarrassment, "In that case, I apologize for, ah, disturbing you."

His gaze turned dark as he regarded her with unmasked interest. "There is no need. I should be the one apologizing."

Elyse's breath caught. "For what?"

"Almost breaking down your door."

Green eyes grew round. It appeared that he knew exactly what she'd been doing during her shower. Heat pulsed between her legs. Desire thrummed stronger and steadier than ever. Fuck.

Politely, he drawled, "My offer still stands, angelo."

Which offer? The one when he proposed to remove Stefano and Mikey from her life, or the one when he volunteered to repay her kindness by fucking her senseless? Instantly, Elyse's overheated mind conjured up wicked imaginings of his mouth on her cunt, of his cock hitting the back of her throat, of her legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded her to oblivion—

Coughing, she decided it was time to change the subject. "Are you hungry?"

His jaw clenched. "Starving."

"I can make some breakfast."

"I doubt that will satisfy me."

"It won't?"

He smiled like a wolf. "I want something else."

The bastard looked like he wanted to eat her . Feeling flushed and flustered, Elyse purposely played dumb. "I'll go fry some eggs and chorizo on the pan. It's delicious. I think you'll like it."

Before he could convince her otherwise, she dashed into the kitchen. Her self-restraint was shaky at best. She didn't trust herself to stand so close to him. As Elyse brushed past the man, she saw his face flash with disappointment. Regret pulsed in her as well. But neither of them pressed the matter any further over breakfast.

On day four, her patient started acting even less like a patient. He was able to move around the apartment with a surprising amount of ease. His recovery was nothing short of miraculous. She'd never seen anything like it in her career. He was a true freak of nature. Such a robust recovery, however, proved to be a double-edged sword. Alongside his improving health, the man grew bolder. Shamelessly so. This troublesome behavior, coupled with the fact that his condition no longer required round-the-clock monitoring, prompted Elyse to move back to her bedroom. She kept her door locked at night and let him sleep on her couch. Elyse didn't trust him. The man was too tempting. Too willing. A dangerous combination.

After the shit he pulled with the sponge bath, Elyse declined to help him with any subsequent bathing activities, and, after her naughty fantasies in the shower, she no longer trusted herself around him, either.

Moreso than the other delinquents Stefano had delivered to Elyse's apartment, the brown-and-blue-gray-eyed man was leaving a lasting impression on her. This growing attachment alarmed Elyse, prompting her to give Stefano the green light to collect the bastard. The sooner he left, the better. Elyse couldn't afford to lose her head over a man with questionable intentions and even more questionable ties to Cosa Nostra . Her life was already in shambles because of Stefano and Mikey.

At times, Elyse wondered how she hadn't buckled from the stress of it all. For years, Papà had struggled to settle his gambling debts. Her mother was no help. The woman disappeared when Elyse was a baby. Once she became a teenager, Elyse contributed whenever possible through part-time jobs and scholarships. Unfortunately, no matter how hard they tried to get ahead, father and daughter started falling behind on payments, and the compounding interest began to snowball out of control.

A year ago, they hit rock bottom. Papà crashed into a drunk driver while coming home from work . The collision didn't kill her father, but it left him paralyzed and unresponsive. Within the same month, Stefano and Mikey tracked down Elyse and strong-armed her into taking over her father's monthly payments. They knew, after years of toiling in med school, she'd finally landed a high-paying job as a surgeon. From there, Elyse inherited a string of catastrophes overnight. The sequence of these ill-fated events felt beyond suspicious even though Stefano and Mikey insisted that they had nothing to do with Papà's accident.

Money had since become the root of all the evils in her existence. Money— and the lack of it —was the reason why she couldn't afford to lose her job at the hospital. Elyse was pulling in six figures a year at Sawyer Memorial, but, each month, the payments to Stefano and Mikey left her strapped for cash. There was barely enough leftover to cover her bills and student loan balance. A few strands of her dark brown hair turned white.

Now that her patient was unlikely to die without supervision, Elyse needed to get her ass back in the ER before her Chief of Surgery, Dr. Frank Schwartz, chewed her out for missing so many days in a row. As though the universe could read minds, Elyse's phone began to ring. She checked the caller ID. Speak of the devil .

Anxiously, she picked up the call. "Hello, Dr. Schwartz. What can I do for you today?"

With the phone pressed to her ear, Elyse started pacing around the kitchen. The brown-and-blue-gray-eyed man was sitting in the living room. His eyes were focused on his phone, staring and scrolling intently at the small rectangular screen, but she could feel his attention edge toward her. He was probably eavesdropping. Elyse didn't want to let him know anything about her private or professional life. To be safe, she retreated to her bedroom to finish her phone conversation.

By the time Elyse re-emerged from her bedroom, her face appeared pale and apprehensive. He glanced over. "Everything alright?"

"Everything's fine," she replied in a small voice.

Everything had gone to shit.

He looked unconvinced. "Who were you talking to on the phone?"

"My supervisor."

Dr. Schwartz had just asked for her resignation. The impromptu sick days and family emergencies caught up to her at last, and, it seemed, the last four days of work she missed were the final straw.

"From the hospital?"

"Yes."

Elyse was feeling so overwhelmed that she barely noticed the man when he rose from the couch and strode toward her. Her anxiety continued to spiral. There was so much that needed to be done. Shit was going to hit the fan if she didn't get her ass in gear. Elyse needed to update her resume tonight and start sending out apps first thing tomorrow morning.

" Angelo ..."

His voice pulled Elyse from her chaotic thoughts. She glanced up. Elyse was shocked to find him standing mere inches away from her, towering over her smaller frame with his superior height and mass.

Instinctively, Elyse backed away from him. "What do you want?"

He grimaced at her reaction, but, as though to ease her fears, he took a step back as well. "Is everything alright?"

Fuck, no.

"Yes."

He looked skeptical. "Are you sure? You seem on edge."

Elyse gazed up at him with a tight smile. "I'm fine."

A chime sounded from her back pocket. Elyse pulled out her phone and scanned the message. It was from the Pendejo .

Elyse glanced back at the man. She held out her phone to show him the text. "Looks like you'll be leaving soon."

He grunted in acknowledgment, but his expression remained inscrutable. The man didn't comment on the messages, choosing instead to focus on her nickname for Stefano, " Pen… dejo? What does that mean?"

" Asshole . In Spanish."

"I take it that," he observed, "you are not a fan of Stefano?"

"I hate Mikey more."

Mikey was saved as Pendejito in her phone.

His gaze darted toward the bruises on her face. "I do not blame you. I hate him, too."

She glanced away, feeling lost and overwhelmed. Despite Elyse's distress over losing her job, their exchange was bringing out an even more intense emotion. One that felt oddly like… sadness?

As much as Elyse hated to admit it, she would miss the man's company. He'd provided a much-needed distraction from her depressing life. She wondered if he might miss her a little, too? Elyse knew it was foolish to form an attachment. She'd known from the get-go that he was only passing through for a few days. His departure was inevitable. Still, Elyse couldn't help wishing that they'd met under different circumstances. A kinder world where he wasn't a member of the mafia. Another reality where Stefano and Mikey didn't own her soul.

"If ever you are in trouble," he said suddenly, "come to me. I will help you."

She raised her eyebrows. "How would I find you? I don't even know your name."

"You never asked."

"I know."

"Will you ask me? Now?"

"No."

The less she knew, after all, the better. His eyes searched for hers. A ghost of a smile rested on his lips as he remarked, "You are unlike any woman I have met, Dr. Romero."

The intensity of his gaze made her feel like a schoolgirl in the presence of an adolescent crush. Elyse grumbled, "You're only saying that because your balls are blue."

He laughed. "Perhaps."

"For the record," Elyse insisted, "you don't owe me anything."

He shook his head in disagreement. "You saved my life. I am in your debt."

A sullen mood settled over Elyse. "I was only doing my job."

She knew it was time for them to move on. Her days with her beautiful brown-and-blue-gray-eyed companion were coming to an end. Indefinitely. A longing for something more, something she couldn't express in words, bloomed with desperation, but she didn't dare act on it.

As though the man had fallen into the same mindset, he inquired, "Will we see each other again?"

"I don't think so."

His gaze sharpened then. At first, he didn't give a reply, but Elyse could tell from his indignant expression that her answer had displeased him.

When the man broke his silence, he said, "I hope you are wrong, angelo. I would like for our paths to cross again."

She grimaced. "The universe may have different plans."

"Then, at least, give me the bullet."

Elyse's eyelids fluttered in surprise as she repeated, "The bullet?"

His eyes—those beautiful, eerie, mesmerizing eyes—never left hers as he replied, "I want it. To remember you. Always."

"Very well," she agreed softly. "You can have it. If it's so important to you. Wait here."

Elyse disappeared into her bedroom for a few minutes and returned with the bullet. His life had almost been stolen by this small scrap of metal. As she placed it in his hand, his fingers wrapped gently around her wrist. He pulled her toward him, and she let him.

"I will never forget what you have done for me," he murmured in her ear. "Grazie."

"You're welcome," she whispered back.

Then, the man's grasp on her wrist fell away. Elyse missed his touch instantly. She found herself worrying about him as well. "Stay safe out there, okay?"

"So you do care for me."

Elyse bristled slightly. "Just don't die right after I saved you. It'd be a shame for my efforts to go to waste."

The corner of his mouth quipped. "Would you save me again if someone else tries to kill me?"

"Maybe."

"I would gladly take another bullet," he professed, "if it brings me back to you."

His charm was disarming. But she got the feeling that the man rarely said what he really meant.

"Your bullshit truly knows no bounds," Elyse returned with a laugh. "But I appreciate the sentiment."

A knock sounded at the door. It was probably Stefano. Her chest drew tight. Had it been ten minutes already? With a downcast expression, she asked, "Is this… goodbye?"

He nodded. "It appears so. Arrivederci , Dr. Romero . "

Yet, Elyse noticed with a touch of intrigue, the steady, contemplative manner he was looking at her didn't feel like a farewell at all. Instead, it reminded her of a seasoned chess player, carefully plotting out the moves that might turn the board in his favor.

It left Elyse with a strange fluttering in her heart.