The Mafia Lord's Secret Lover (Evelyn) novel Chapter 155

Thirty minutes had slipped by quietly.

Axel stepped out of the bathroom, cradling Evelyn gently in his arms. She was swathed in a thick towel, her damp hair cascading softly over her shoulders, while he wore only a towel wrapped low around his hips.

Evelyn buried her face in the hollow of his neck, cheeks flushed with a warm embarrassment she couldn’t quite shake.

The humid steam still clung to their skin, mingling with the faint scent of soap that lingered in the air, creating an intimate atmosphere.

She was still trying to process everything that had just happened—the surprising intensity, the way Axel’s creativity unfolded when he set his mind to it.

They had explored so many different ways to be close, and even the thought of it made her cheeks burn with a mix of shyness and thrill.

“Axel…” she breathed out, voice soft and breathless. “Put me down now. I can walk.”

A low chuckle rumbled from him, teasing and warm. “I know you can, but you’re still limping a little, Eve.”

Her lips curved into a shy smile. “Thanks to you, Mr. Knight. My legs are sore. I just want to sleep…”

Unfazed by her tone, he smiled back and carried her over to the bed. Gently, he laid her down, pressing a tender kiss to her lips.

“Sleep, yes,” he murmured, “but not like this.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Like what?”

He grinned mischievously and rose to his feet. “Naked, obviously. Otherwise, we’ll never leave this room.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and before she could respond, he disappeared into the walk-in closet.

Evelyn let out a soft groan, pulling the blanket up over her body as her mind reeled from the shower—the heat of his hands, the whispered words, the way he looked at her like she was the only woman in existence.

When Axel returned, he was dressed in his usual black shirt and matching trousers, his hair slicked back but still damp, giving him an effortlessly handsome look—the kind of man who could shatter a woman’s calm with just a glance.

“I hope you like what I picked,” he said, holding up a neat pile of clothes—her clothes.

“Axel…” she began cautiously, suspicion flickering in her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you,” he replied simply, starting to assist her without waiting for her permission.

“I can dress myself,” she protested softly.

His gaze met hers, steady and insistent. “I know. But let me.”

Before she could argue further, he gently pulled the towel away from her and let it fall to the floor. Then he helped her sit on the edge of the bed.

Evelyn gasped, but the warmth in his eyes made her heart race instead of sparking anger.

His hand moved slowly, tracing over the faint red marks on her skin.

“I’m sorry about this,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over a love bite near her collarbone, voice low and filled with quiet satisfaction. “Your fair skin bruises too easily.”

She was left speechless. He knew it but didn’t stop. “It’s okay,” she finally murmured. “They’ll fade.”

He didn’t reply, only smiled softly and continued helping her dress. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as he guided her arms into a soft beige oversized turtleneck and helped her slip into black yoga pants.

Even though she insisted on handling her underwear herself, she appreciated the tenderness in his movements. This small act of dressing her made her feel deeply treasured—words couldn’t capture how happy she was in that moment.

“Perfect,” he said proudly, stepping back. “You look beautiful.”

Evelyn sat quietly for a moment, her eyes fixed on him as her heart fluttered anew.

Taking her hand gently, he led her toward the dressing table.

Their reflection caught her attention—he stood tall and confident behind her, that familiar smirk playing on his lips, the one that always made her weak in the knees. She smiled at the sight.

“Nothing,” he said lightly, setting the dryer down.

She wasn’t convinced.

“Axel, don’t lie to me. Something’s bothering you. I can see it.”

He looked at her through the mirror, their eyes locking in a quiet, intense moment that sent a shiver through her chest.

“Eve,” he began, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

“What?” she asked, turning slightly toward him.

He offered a faint, practiced smile—the one he used when trying to hide something—but his eyes betrayed him, distant and conflicted.

“Axel,” she pressed gently. “Please, tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I lied to you.”

Evelyn froze, the words hitting her like a cold splash of water.

Her reflection stared back at her, wide-eyed, the hairdryer resting forgotten on the table, his hands still gently on her shoulders.

The touch was light, almost weightless.

Yet somehow, the warmth of it felt heavy, pressing on her mind as if burdened by unspoken truths.

Slowly, she turned to face him, her voice steady but barely holding firm.

“Axel, what do you mean you lied to me?” she asked, trying to keep calm despite the turmoil swirling inside her.