“Evelyn, I have been calling you,” he said.
“Sorry, papa, I was reading.”
“I need to go away for a few days, business. Will you help me pack a bag?”
We headed upstairs while I sorted through his closet for suits, shirts and ties. My father always dressed well, even when we were very poor. I had looked through photographs of him and my mother, and no matter the quality of the clothes he was always smart. I packed a bag for him and helped him carry it to the door. Mack would always accompany my father and he was waiting by the car, the rear door already open. Paulo sat up front, in the passenger seat. I kept my distance from Paulo; there was something about him that made me very uneasy.
“Rocco will be here, Evelyn, call him if you need anything,” he said as he cupped my face and gently kissed my cheek.
“I will papa, have a safe trip.”
So Rocco was staying behind. I wondered why. If my father went away on business, normally he went too. A fluttering erupted in my stomach, my father hadn’t said for how long he was going away but those words, ‘soon’ echoed around my head. I returned to the garden room and to the fantasy that might become my reality.
****
The following day I decided to stop by my father’s office after work. I had spent the day thinking of an excuse to see him. It came to me while walking to the deli to collect lunch and passing the movie theatre. I would ask for a ride to take me to see a film. It was quite normal for someone to drive me if I was to go out in the evening. During the day my father had no problems with me walking the neighbourhood but not at night. I would mention that I wanted to go somewhere and a car would be ready and waiting, outside the house.
The door to my father’s office was nestled between a deli and a pizzeria, both of which he had interests in. I pushed open the door and entered the dingy stairwell letting my eyes adjust to the low light before climbing the stairs. At the top I nodded to Ricardo, sitting in a broken armchair, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Pausing, I heard raised voices, a man and a woman arguing. I sucked in a breath and walked into my father’s office. The sight that greeted me, knocked the breath from my lungs. Rocco was holding a woman to his chest, stroking her hair, comforting and murmuring to her. Her arms were around his waist, her hands clenching his shirt. She raised her head, her eyes met mine and she took a slight step back causing Rocco to turn his head, to follow her gaze.
“I’m, erm, I’m sorry, I’ll come back later,” I stammered.
As I backed out I heard her speak, not in Italian but her own regional dialect. I couldn’t understand all of what she said, but got enough to know that she was asking who I was. I rushed down the stairs, through the door and quickly walked to the end of the block. I rounded the corner and rested my back against the wall, breathing in deep and slow to calm myself. I closed my eyes and saw the image of them together, it caused tears to form in my eyes and I angrily brushed them away.
“Bastard,” I whispered.
“Who, me?” I heard and opened my eyes.
“She’s my sister, Evelyn. You ran before I could introduce you,” Rocco said.
“Oh, I...” I didn’t finish the sentence as he closed the gap between us.
His hands snaked around my neck, his fingers pushing my chin up. His face was so close I could feel his breath, smell the faint hint of cigarettes mixed with his musky aftershave as his lips just gently brushed against mine. I raised my arms, around his neck, my hand on the back of his head pushing him closer but the interruption of laughter made him pull back. He smiled as his fingers trailed down my cheek.
“What did you want to see me for?” he asked.
I let my arms fall to my side, a sigh escaped the lips I so desperately wanted him to kiss and he took a step back, placing a respectable distance between us.
“I wanted to see a movie tonight, I need a car.”
“Who are you going with?”
“No one, I just want to do something this evening.”
“You can’t go to the movies alone, Evelyn,” he replied.
“I can, I don’t exactly have a list of friends to invite, do I?”
I didn’t have any friends. There were people I had known in school that I would stop and chat with, but for a while I had concentrated on looking after the family, I didn’t have time to socialise, to go to parties. And I was never invited, the one downside to having the father I had. The parents of my school friends would never invite me for a sleep over, for dinner after school, in fact, most discouraged their children from being too friendly, period.
“How about dinner?” Rocco asked.
“Dinner?”
“Yes, you know that thing we do in the evenings. I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said, with a chuckle.
“Okay, that would be lovely.”
With just a brief kiss to my cheeks, Rocco made his way back to the office and I was left stunned by the thought of my first dinner date. Looking at my watch, I noticed the time. It was already late afternoon and I made my way back home. The housekeeper was feeding Joey, so I headed for the shower. After, with just a towel wrapped around me, I scanned the clothes in my closet. Rocco hadn’t mentioned where we would dine and I was unsure of what to wear. It was to be my first real date. I selected a white summer dress with big red poppies that would show off my tanned shoulders and arms. It was nipped in at the waist but flared out slightly to my knees. My mother had always commented that I looked like a fifties pin-up when I had worn it previously. It suited my figure. I wasn’t slim, neither was I overweight but I had that hourglass shape that suited the dress. I sat and dried my long chestnut hair, curling the ends, and applied some makeup. I wasn’t an expert at doing my own makeup, years ago Maria and I would practice, but she was far better than me.
Just before seven I popped my head into Maria’s room.
“I’m going out, you will keep an eye on Joey, won’t you?” I said.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Just out with a friend.”
With that she returned to her book. I worried about her and had previously spoken to my father. I had wanted the doctor to see her. She hardly left her room, preferring to sit with her books, lost in her fantasies. I guessed it was her way of grieving but as time had gone on, we seem to have lost her as she retreated further and further into her own little world. I knew I could rely on her to keep an ear open for Joey though, although it was unlikely he would wake until the morning.
I headed downstairs with ten minutes to spare and sat at the kitchen table, the heart of the house. As each minute ticked by my heart rate increased, my palms became sweaty and I was conscious not to rub them over my dress. I heard the key in the front door, it opened and I stood. He walked into the kitchen and I drank in the sight of him. He was wearing a plain white shirt, open at the collar and I could see the faint black of his tattoos through the material.
“You look beautiful, Evelyn,” he said as I gathered my bag.
“Thank you,” was all I managed before lowering my head to conceal the blush I knew had crept up my neck.
He chuckled, “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”
Following him to the door, he opened it, stepped aside and with his hand on the small of my back, he ushered me to the car. He opened the car door and waited until I had settled in my seat before making his way around to the driver’s side. He had learnt well. My father had many rules and one was that the passenger side of the car was always next to the sidewalk. “Never let your passenger have to walk into the traffic,” he would say.
Rocco started the car and pulled away; he fiddled with a packet of cigarettes, shaking one loose before winding down his window slightly.
“Do you mind?” he gestured with his lighter.
“No, of course not,” I replied. “Where are we going?”
“A little place I know, quiet, but you’ll like it. They have the best veal.”
We settled into a comfortable silence and without it bein
g too obvious, I watched him concentrate on the road, on smoking his cigarette, on his lips as he inhaled. He cursed in Italian as the car in front braked sharply and he placed his arm across my chest to stop me being thrown forwards as he, too, braked hard. The touch of his hand on my skin sent shock waves through me and left a tingling when he removed it. It wasn’t long after that he pulled up outside a small bistro. Opening the car door for me, he took my hand and led me into the restaurant. He was immediately greeted by the owner, ushered to a table towards the back and fussed over. Menus were placed on the table with a wine list and jug of water. Breads were left in the centre with a small bowl of oil. I watched him tear a piece of bread and dip it into the oil before placing it in his mouth, the oil leaving a glisten on his lips before his tongue swiped across them.
“Here, taste,” he said, tearing off another chunk.
I shivered when his fingers touched my lips as he placed the bread in my mouth.
“The oil is from my family’s farm,” he said.
“Tell me about them?” I asked.
He lent back in his chair and I saw a flash of anguish cross his face. I leant forwards and took his hand in mine.
“You don’t have to,” I said, gently.
“My father was murdered, Evelyn, my brother too. They came in the night, dragged them from the house in front of my mother, my sister and me. I watched as they were taken away, I never saw them again. I will never forget my mother’s screams as she tried to wrestle with them, before they threw her to the ground.”
His voice was angry, the hurt very evident in his eyes as he stared at me. We were interrupted by a waiter placing a carafe of red wine and two glasses on the table. He stood back with his pad and pen poised, waiting to take our order.
“Five minutes,” Rocco said, angrily.
The waiter scuttled off. I rubbed my thumb over his knuckles and I watched as he started to relax again. His shoulders slumped a little and he gave me a small smile.
“I waited ten years and then I got my revenge.”
“And then you came here?” I asked.
“Yes, your father knew mine, my mother sent me here to protect me, to make sure I was safe.”
“I’m glad she did,” I replied.
We fell silent for a moment while we scanned the menu and on closing them, the waiter made his return. Orders placed, I sipped the wine that had been poured. An earthy, fruity taste hit my senses as I savoured the flavour. We chatted back and forth. He asked me about my work, he knew Mr Philips, about my hobbies, I had none and we laughed at childhood experiences we shared. He was easy to talk to; the conversation flowed with the only break coming when our food arrived.
I was very aware, however, of the tension from the staff when they approached him. It was the same feeling I picked up on when people were around my father. There was a hesitation, a need to please and I knew then, his position in my father’s business was an important one.
“Is your sister okay?” I asked as we sipped our coffee.
“She came to tell me that there is trouble at home. My uncle runs the farm now and she wants me to return.”
My breath caught in my throat at the thought of him leaving and then a feeling of guilt that I wanted to keep him here and not let him help his family.
“What will you do?” I asked, my voice shaking slightly.
“I can’t go back, not yet. I’ll try to sort it from here.”
I was relieved, “Papa will help, won’t he?”
“Probably, I’ll speak with him when he returns. And talking of your father, I don’t think he would be pleased to know you were here, with me.”
I hadn’t thought once about what my father would think. I would only hope that he would be happy for me. Yes, Rocco was older than me in years but mentally I had grown so much in the past year, I didn’t feel my age. But, did he have a point? My father’s upset was a risk I was willing to take. If he could see how much I loved Rocco he would have to give his blessing. But then, I had no idea how Rocco felt about me and it wasn’t a question I was about to ask. However, the thought that my father might disapprove spoilt the mood somewhat. We finished our coffee in silence. Rocco took his wallet from his trouser pocket, peeled off some bills and held out his hand as he stood. I let his warm hand cover mine as he led me from the restaurant. Instead of heading for the car, we walked a block to a small park area. Rocco led me to a bench, in front of a pond and we sat under the glow of a street lamp. He placed his arm around my shoulder and I leant into his side, comfortable in his embrace.
“Thank you for tonight,” I said. “I’ve really enjoyed myself.”
“It was a pleasure, Evelyn. It’s nice to be able to relax and enjoy myself as well.”
His fingers ran across the top of my shoulder, slightly brushing the strap of my dress to one side. He turned towards me and with his other hand he stroked his fingers down my cheek.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, gently.
His thumb ran across my lower lip and I parted them slightly, the tip of my tongue just catching the pad. I wanted to give myself to this man, I wanted him to take me there and then, to feel him inside me, to have him make love to me. I wanted to rake my nails down his muscular back and look into his eyes as he fucked me. I blinked, rapidly, to clear the thoughts, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. I raised my hand to his cheek and he leant slightly into it. I could feel the roughness of the stubble around his jaw scratch my palm and I could feel a pulse beat frantically in his neck.
His kiss was deep and wanting, his teeth nipped at my lips, at my tongue as his hand fisted in my hair, pulling my head towards him. My hands gripped the front of his shirt and his moan reverberated through me. I felt like I was going to combust, a heat crept over me as dirty thoughts flooded my mind. I pictured him lying naked on top of me, his hard body pressing mine deep into the bed. I pictured kissing his stomach, those tattoos, as his fingers, his tongue roamed my body. A slight breeze had picked up and I shivered.
He pulled away, his hand found mine and as he stood he pulled me to my feet. To say I was disappointed was an understatement, I hadn’t wanted that kiss to stop. My tongue ran across my lower lip savouring that last taste of him. He pulled me to his chest, his arms around me and kissed the top of my head.
“I need to get you home, Evelyn, it’s getting late,” he said, softly.
“I don’t have a curfew, Rocco,” I protested.
“No, but if we stay here any longer, I’m going to do something we both might regret.”
He might as well have just stabbed me in the heart. I closed my eyes and let my forehead fall to his chest. Why would he regret this? I moved away from him, pulled my hand free of his and turned to walk back the way we came. He didn’t follow me immediately but it wasn’t long before I heard his footsteps. I arrived back at the car and waited for him to unlock the door, open it and I climbed in without looking at him. We drove the short distance home without speaking. As the car pulled to a stop I reached for the door handle. I felt his hand on my thigh and I stilled.
“Wait, you misunderstand me,” he said.
“What do I misunderstand, Rocco? You kiss me like you mean it. You tell me ‘soon’ and leave me for days on end. You play me like I have no feelings,” I replied, my voice rising in anger.
“Oh, I mean it, Evelyn. Every second your mouth is mine don’t you think I want more, don’t you think I want to throw you down and take you there and then? I want your body, I want every inch of you. I want to taste you, to fuck you. I want to own you. I want to be your first.”
“Then why don’t you,” I whispered.
“Because your father would kill me.”
I pushed open the car door so violently it sprang back and caught my leg as I exited. I cried as I scrambled out and limped as quickly as I could to the front door. I had my keys in my still shaking hands and I fumbled with the lock. I felt him behind me, he reached over and took the key from me, placed it in the lock and opened the
door. I wouldn’t turn as I pushed my way into the house, forcing the front door closed behind me, shutting him out. I leant my back against it and slid down, sitting on the cool tiled floor letting tears fall down my cheeks. I was in love with a man scared of my father’s reaction and I cursed him. I cursed my father for being who he was, for the realisation that no matter what man I fell in love with, there would always be this gigantic barrier that was Guiseppe Morietti.
Kicking off my shoes I headed to the kitchen, I knew Rocco hadn’t left, I could hear the car still idling outside. I needed ice and finding some, I wrapped the cubes in a cloth before sitting and placing it on the obvious bruising to my leg. It was dark and I just sat and listened to the ticking of a clock trying to slow my racing heart. Was my life always to be this way? How would I ever meet, marry someone if my father was always going to be an obstacle? I loved my papa but right at that moment, I wished I was just a normal girl from a normal family. I so desperately wanted my mom.
I heard the creak of a floorboard above and the gentle steps of someone creeping down the stairs. I wiped away my tears and planted a smile on my face as Maria entered the kitchen. She surprised me by coming to my side and pulling me into a hug.
“I saw you from the window, I wasn’t listening but you looked upset,” she said.
She was two years younger than me and she held me while I cried again, like I wished my mother could.
“I won’t tell anyone, you deserve a life, Ev,” she said.
“He doesn’t want me, he’s too scared of papa.”
“You’ll find a way, I know you will. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, I know he wants you.”
I giggled, she giggled and before we knew it we were both laughing, covering our mouths so as not to wake the housekeeper or Joey.
“Did you kiss him?” she asked.
Evelyn (Fallen Angel Series Book 3) Page 3