The Mafia And His Angel: Part 3 (Tainted Hearts 3)

“No,” I snapped.

Viktor huffed. “Fine.”

I didn’t have time to block his punch. It landed painfully in my ribcage, and I groaned. I bellowed, “You have a death wish.”

“You asked for it.”

“Shit. She only needs to see me hurt a little! Just to trigger her memories.”

“Oops, okay. You should have said that before.” Viktor shrugged.

I glared at him and kicked at his knee. He went down. “You crazy fucker!”

It was my turn to shrug. “Lesson one. Always be on your guard.”

We fought for hours. It turned out that it was more than just trying to make Ayla feel. We fought out our anger and self-loathing.

Our anger toward the men that had hurt Ayla was taken out on each other. Phoenix and Nikolay soon joined us.

“I can’t breathe. I think I broke something,” Viktor wheezed.

“Pussy,” Phoenix breathed through his pain.

“You went down before all of us,” Nikolay reminded Phoenix.

I shook my head and limped out of the gym. I was time to get to my Angel.

I opened the door and saw Ayla sitting on the bed, staring blankly at the wall. Her eyes snapped toward mine. I stayed hidden in the shadows.

“I’ll wait for you in the piano room.”

Without a second glance, I left the room and went next door. Settling in my chair, I waited for her.

The door opened, and I heard a gasp. “Alessio,” she breathed.

I closed my eyes at her voice. The sound of my name coming from her lips was heaven. For so long, I waited for this. For her to say my name.

Opening my eyes again, I saw Ayla coming toward me. She knelt down between my legs. “What…ha…ppened?”

Her voice was soft. But it was her eyes that got to me. She looked at me as if she was in pain.

“You are hurt,” she whispered, looking down at my bloodied hands.

She was feeling my pain.

Ayla searched my face, and she winced when she saw the bruises there. “I was sparring. It’s nothing.”

“But you are hurt,” Ayla said, taking my hands in hers. She bit on her lips nervously before looking around the room.

I knew what she was looking for.

“The first aid box is in our room. First drawer in the closet,” I muttered. Ayla stared at me for a second. Recognition flashed in her eyes before she nodded.

She got up and left the room.

I closed my eyes with a sigh. I was so fucking proud of her.

When she came back, I opened my eyes and saw her kneeling between my legs again. Ayla went through the first aid box, and I helped her pick the antiseptic wipes and bandages.

She stared at my hands for a second, her eyebrows furrowed. Her gaze went up to mine before moving to my hands again.

And then Ayla slowly cleaned my knuckles. Gently and with care. She cleaned the blood off and blew softly over my ripped skin.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Was she feeling this connection too? Did this moment mean something to her?

When she was done, she wrapped the bandages around my hands.

“Thank you, Angel.”

She nodded mutely, still staring at my bandaged hands, confused.

“Does this seem familiar?” I finally asked.

Ayla gave me a sharp nod. “You’ve done this before. In this same room. And just like today, you were hurting for me.”

Her fingers caressed my bandaged knuckles. “You might have forgotten me, but I still remember you. I still remember us. You used to play the piano for me every night. You would read while sitting on my lap. I would play with your hair while working. Sometimes we would go to the creek. You would play in the water. I was always scared that you would fall and get hurt,” I explained, my voice rough with emotion.

She moved closer to me and laid her head on my thigh.

“Your favorite flower is the white peony. But you love the pink one too. You love reading. You don’t know how to dance. I don’t know either. But we danced together. I love your hair down, so you would always leave it down for me. Your favorite food is pasta. You like chocolate, especially white chocolate. You hate dark chocolate—it’s too bitter for you. You would get mad if I didn’t wake you up in the morning when I was leaving. I would get mad if you didn’t kiss me good morning.”

Ayla closed her eyes as I caressed her cheek. “You said I was your peace. Your anchor and your savior. You are my Angel. We are one. I just need you to remember.”

Ayla stayed silent, but I could see the calm look on her face. After a few minutes of silence, I spoke.

“Play for me, Angel.”

Ayla sat up and stared at me. Our eyes making contact. Green to blue.

She let out a resigned sigh. I knew it was harder for her to remember. “Give it a try.”