Luca
I turned from the wall of glass that made up the back of my home and watched as Enzo—one of the only two people I trusted most in the world—carried in Mario’s new fiancée and laid her carefully on my black leather couch. Anyone who saw how gently he handled her would think he actually had a heart beating in that chest, but I knew better.
I finished the whiskey in my hand and set the glass down on the small coffee table in the center of the group of chairs that made up the sitting area, ignoring the twinge of disloyalty in my chest. "Did anyone see you?" I asked him.
Enzo took off his sunglasses—his way of showing respect—and shook his head. "Nah. We're good."
"Are you absolutely sure about that? Not even our own guards outside? Or Mario's? No one can know she's here just yet."
He gave me a sharp nod. "I made sure of it."
"And Tristan..."
"Took the car to get cleaned."
I grunted my approval. When Mario figured out she was gone, he would stop at nothing to find her. Not because he loved her, but because he hated having anything he considered his taken from him. We were much alike in that way. And I had no doubt he'd eventually figure out exactly where his precious bride-to-be had gone, but not until I wanted him to. Not until I was ready. Not until Nicole Calbert was loyal to me.
And only me.
I pulled my cell phone out of my inside jacket pocket and called my father, the only other person who knew about my plan, as we didn’t want this to get out to the rest of the family just yet. He answered on the second ring. "I've got her," I told him before he could say anything.
"Any witnesses?"
"No."
"Good." He hung up.
I slid my phone back into my pocket and picked up my whiskey glass, raising it halfway to my lips before I remembered it was empty and set it back on the counter, the underlying tone in my father's voice ringing in my ears. Running my finger along the rim of my glass, I was careful not to show my emotions to Enzo, although he knew me well enough that hiding anything from him was near impossible.
My father expected me to fuck this up. And after what had happened the last time I'd dealt with Mario, I didn't blame him. But what he didn't know was that I'd been planning this revenge for years. Fucking years. Watching. Waiting. Biding my time and planning every single tiny detail. I’d just been waiting for her.
I would not fail my father again.
My jaw began to ache and I rolled my head on my neck to ease the tension, then turned back to the woman on the couch. My eyes traveled down her body, exposed as it was by how little she was wearing, the jean shorts and grungy T-shirt looking like she'd pulled them out of a donation bin. She was just as I remembered from the last time I'd seen her, only five days before, small compared to myself and Enzo, tan, curvy...all legs, hips, and tits. A body that deserved to be wrapped in the finest silks and cashmere, not cheap, threadbare cotton.
Her hand twitched, and a muffled moan came from beneath the hood obscuring her face. Curious if she was really as stunning as the recollection of her that had haunted me this last week, I walked over and grabbed a handful of the material and yanked it from her head, thinking I had to be wrong. Women with bodies like that rarely had a face that matched.
Long hair the color of pale wheat tumbled about her face in static-y waves, sticking to her forehead and cheeks, and all I could really see were her pink stained lips stretched wide around the gag. Blood rushed to my groin as I imagined those lips wrapped around my cock. Reaching beneath my suit jacket, I pulled my favorite knife from its shoulder holster. But just as I got the tip near her face, her eyes fluttered open, shades of gray peeking between the strands of her hair. They focused on me, then the knife, and widened in horror. Before I knew what she was about, she knocked my arm away and rolled straight into me, landing on the floor at my feet.
I cursed beneath my breath as she hit my legs, making me stumble backwards and giving her just enough room to get her feet underneath her and stand up. Shoving her hair out of her face, she looked around with red, watering eyes, still disoriented from the ether, then yanked the gag from her mouth and spit out the cloth handkerchief.
Dammit. They should've tied her up. Enzo quickly moved between her and the door as I held both hands out in front of me. "No one's gonna hurt you, Nicole." I had no real worry that she would escape. The room was large, and she had a lot of room to get around him, but Enzo was faster on his feet than he appeared.
She blinked hard a few times as she tried to focus on me, her gray eyes still hazy. I stared at this beauty before me, searching for some kind of flaw. With her naturally light skin and pale hair, you'd think she'd be all washed out without a ton of makeup to make her features more interesting, but that wasn't the case with this one. She was a rare one. Young, petite, with just the right amount of curves to keep a man busy. It was easy to see why Mario wanted her for his arm candy, and why he'd kept her identity secret from everyone.
Or so he'd thought.
I slid my knife back into the holster. "See? The knife is gone. I was only going to use it to take the gag off. That's all." I kept my voice low and calm. I didn't care if she was scared. It wouldn't change my plans for her. But if she tried to run right now, I'd have to catch her and force her into submission, and although I would enjoy the fight, it wouldn't really get us off on the right foot.
Enzo took a step to the side and his shoe squeaked on the marble floor. She whipped around, her back stiffening when she saw him standing only a few feet behind her. My eyes dropped to her ass, barely covered by washed-out jean shorts, then down her classic Hollywood legs. I noticed she only had one sandal on, and my eyes went to Enzo.
"Her other shoe is right outside the door," he answered my unspoken question. "It fell off when I was carrying her in. I'll get it as soon as we get this situation under control."
In the split second my attention was diverted, Nicole kicked off her other sandal and surprised me by running barefoot around the couch—and me–toward the French doors that led out to the back deck. She was quick, I had to give her that, but I was more so, and I easily intercepted her before she touched the handle. Ducking down, I threw my shoulder into her waist and used her own momentum to lift her up and over my shoulder.
She hadn't made a sound up until then, other than a small gasp of fear when she saw my knife coming at her. But now, after a moment of shock to find herself ass up, she let loose. "Let me go, you fuckin' prick!
"Enzo's lips twitched as I passed him, heading toward the stairs. "She doesn't look like an Italian girl," he mused. "But she sure as hell sounds like one.
"The "she" in question landed a hard kick with the ball of her foot right above my knee and I hefted her higher on my shoulder then smacked her ass with my free hand, leaving it there when I felt the rounded fullness of her flesh. "Do that again, Nicole, and you'll fucking regret it."
With a screech, she doubled her efforts, kicking and punching and trying to lift herself off my shoulder. Gritting my teeth, I hung on tight to her smooth legs until I made it up the curved stairway, down the hall, and into my room, where I dumped her unceremoniously onto the black comforter of my king-sized bed. Before she could gather herself enough to jump up, I had her held down with the weight of my body and the sharp edge of my knife pressed against the side of her face. "Don't do it," I gritted out. I was fucking exhausted, and in no mood for this shit, which was one of the reasons I'd sent Enzo and Tristan to get her for me. The other reason was that I couldn't have my face anywhere near the scene of her kidnapping. However, that didn't mean I was going to let this bitch go psycho and wreck my lake house.
A bead of blood appeared where the tip of the knife dug into the skin right below her eye. I held her still with my forearm pressed against her chest as I slowly licked it away from my knife, the steel of the blade cold on my tongue compared to her warm skin, the metallic taste of steel mixing with the hint of copper. "Or hell, maybe you should," I goaded. "Scars are sexy."
To my utter disappointment, she stilled, all of the fight draining out of her like air.
Keeping my face right in hers and the knife pressed to her cheek, I told her, "Now. We can play this one of two ways, amore. You can keep trying to run and I'll tie you to this fucking bed—which, I gotta be honest, is what I'm hoping for—or you can chill the fuck out and listen to what I have to say. I have a beautiful home. I think you'll enjoy it here if you give it a chance. I also understand you'll have questions, and I'm more than fucking happy to answer them. If you can behave like a civilized person. Comprendere?
"As she stared up at me, I watched in fascination as her gray eyes turned as cold as the steel of my knife, and I felt her fingers squeeze my shoulders, like she was fighting the urge to try to push me off. I moaned, rolling my hips against hers so she could feel what she was doing to me, ready for any move she would make. But after a moment, her hands dropped to the bed. "I understand," she told me in a firm voice.
I had to admit I was both surprised and intrigued by this little bomb I was straddling. Mario didn't seem the type to hook up with a donna vivace like this one. A lively woman. Although I had yet to lay eyes on his fiancée until this week, I'd never known him to like women who actually had a spine. From what I'd seen, he preferred the type who would fall to their knees and suck him off with nothing but a snap of his fingers.
I lessoned the pressure of the knife just a bit. "Are we good, amore?"
After another brief hesitation, she gave me small nod. But I wasn't completely convinced by her compliance. Her jaw was clenched so hard that if I was a caring man, I'd be worried she would hurt her teeth. However, I was not that kind of man. Caring meant you were soft. And in the world of the Italian mafia, soft meant dead. Either for you or the one you loved. Nicole was here for one reason and one reason only: revenge. And my chance to win back the respect Mario had fucking taken from me.
Slowly, I sat up and eased my weight off of her, sliding my knife back into its holster before I climbed off the bed and straightened the jacket of my Armani suit. Then I made a show of smoothing the wrinkles from my shirt and pants. Lifting one foot onto the side of the bed, I brushed off the top of my shoe where she'd stepped on it with her dusty flip flop getting up off the floor. The entire time I fussed with my appearance I kept her in my peripheral vision, giving her time to decide how she was going to act.
Nicole sat up and quickly looked around the room before her gray eyes landed on the hilt of my knife.
"The only weapons are on me,” I answered her unspoken question. Setting my foot back onto the floor, I backed up a few steps and put my arms out to my sides, giving her full view of not only the knife on my side but the Glock I kept on me at all times. "Wanna try it?"
She actually fucking thought about it before she shook her head and averted her eyes. Damn, this woman made me hard.
I dropped my arms, again hiding my disappointment. "Then let's talk. After I tell you why you're here, you can ask me whatever you want, and if at all possible, I'll answer."
"And if not possible?"
"Then you'll just have to trust that I'm only giving you information it's safe for you to know."
I stepped back and gestured toward the two armchairs near the balcony doors. “Please.” I didn't worry about her being seen by someone outside. All of the windows on this side of the house faced the lake, and being that my home was perched on the edge of a cliff and my men were on constant lookout for any boats on the water, no one would be able to sneak up on me. "Would you like to sit?"
Still without looking at me, she scooted off the bed and padded barefoot over to the chairs, taking a seat in the one that would put her back to the bedroom door, which only told me she’d led a life where she didn’t need to worry about someone stabbing her in the back. Or shooting her from behind. Crossing her shapely legs at the knee, she gripped the arms of the chair and waited.
Taking the seat across from her, I mimicked her pose. After a long, tense moment, she lifted her eyes to me, staring at me like she was trying to place where she'd seen me before.
"Let me start by telling you that you are in my private home. This house is surrounded by twenty acres of a whole lot of nothing but trees and scrub brush and venomous snakes. Out there"—I nodded toward the balcony doors and the gathering darkness on the other side—"is nothing but a three-hundred-foot drop. If you're lucky, you'll hit the water. If not, you'll shatter every bone in your body on the boulders at the base. My men patrol the perimeter of my home at all hours on land and on water. Also, no one knows the location of this home except for me and my men. Not even my own family knows where I sleep. So, for that reason alone, I wouldn't hesitate to kill you if you managed to escape."
"If you could find me," she said.
There was that soft voice again. The one that sent shivers down my spine in the best possible way. A smile teased the corners of my mouth. "Oh, I would find you, Nicole."
Little lines appeared between her perfectly shaped eyebrows as a look of disgust twisted her lush lips. "Why do you keep calling me that? My name is NOT Nicole."
