The Devil's Angel (Angels of the Underworld: Book One) (✔️)

Chapter Four (Edited)

I woke up in a room that I didn't recognize. I slowly sat up and looked around. I jumped just a little when I saw Dr. McCall standing by the door.

"Juliet, I'm glad to see that you're awake." He smiled walking over to me.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"I do not know." He chuckled. "We were brought here once the plane landed and I was blindfolded until we were inside. My guess is that we are at a safe house."

My heart sped up as the I signed the next words. "Is Vincenzo here?"

Dr. McCall smiled. "He is. He carried you off the plane. About flipped his lid when he saw your busted lip and leg. Not to mention the fact that you've lost twenty pounds. He wouldn't let anyone touch you. He didn't want to leave your side but he was still in his prison clothes and he kind of smelled so I convinced him to go shower. I imagine he should be back any minute now."

I nodded.

"I have prescribed you some meds for pain in your leg as well as some meds to kill and/or stop and infection. I would like for you to eat three full meals a day. We need to get your weight back up. Okay?"

"Okay." I nodded. I knew I had been losing weight. It's just, for over five years I had never left Vince's side except for when he went to work or had something important to due. We ate every meal together. And then he gets arrested and suddenly I'm in the snowy mountains of Colorado without him. I just lost my appetite.

Doc left leaving me alone and I began to get up so I could go pee. I stood up and felt a little bit of pain in my leg so I walked slowly.

Once I peed and washed my hands, I walked out only to stop dead in my tracks.

He stood by the window with arms folded over his chest, and his icy eyes focused on me. They were piercing blue and he didn't blink. Not when I roamed over the rest of him.

He still had to be the biggest man I'd ever met, tall and imposing with shoulders like a brick wall and biceps that bulged under his white t-shirt. His thighs strained against the fabric of his jeans, and I had to push away the image of what he looks like naked, his body as chiseled as carved granite, dwarfing my own but making me feel safe anyway. I caught the scent of expensive cologne mixed with his own musky scent.

Sex.
Violence.
Power.
Control.

It was a heady mix, and one that made my knees weak.

Striking or simply mesmerizing was the word that came to mind when I looked at him. The second word was lethal. Intense, sculpted jaw and matching cheekbones—chiseled. He still had the same pink, pouty lips I've always loved. He's gorgeous and intimidating, and I couldn't stop staring. His black hair, blue eyes, and dark tan skin made him that much more attractive. His jaw and chin was covered in dark stubble, one large scar marring his skin slashed under his left eye. But it didn't make him any less handsome.

No, he couldn't be described as handsome. Rough, raw, dark, dangerous, intimidating ... the opposite of handsome. But to me he was gorgeous.

The second I saw him, tears started to roll down my cheeks. I knew I was mess. I saw myself in the mirror when I was washing hands. My hair was all over the place and tangled, my clothes were a mess and had blood on them, and my skin just felt and looked dirty but in that moment I didn't care.

All I cared about was that he was there in the same room with me.

"Vincenzo," I cried.

"Bambina," He spoke in his deep, rough, and sexy voice that I had missed so much that was thick with his Italian accent.