Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“You can’t just take me,” she says.
“You’re coming with me. We can make it easy, or we can make it hard, but you’re coming with me, princess.”
She glares up at me as I carry her over to my car. I’ll have to think of some story and some excuse. I don’t know. I can’t just call up Elio or Luca and tell them I’ve killed one of their uncle’s men, even if the rat deserved it.
“Don’t call me princess. I’m not a princess of anything,” she snaps when I put her in the backseat.
But she’s wrong. Even sitting there in the modest dress she wore for Vito, her eyes red, her hair messy, she looks like my princess.
I take her to the only place I can—my work apartment. I’ve deep-cleaned it since the last time I used it. I’ll need to get her some clothes, but she’ll be safe there while I figure out a plan. What am I going to do, exactly? I know what I can’t do.
Call up Luca and tell him I iced Vito. What if he’s a big deal on the West Coast? I can’t protect my ma if I’m living life on the run. Fuck. Mia has her hands clasped, shuddering as she looks down at the floor. I pull into the underground parking lot, bringing the car to a stop outside the penthouse elevator.
When I climb from the car, she bursts out and runs ahead. Her footsteps are exhausted, as if the situation is dragging her down. I chase after her, placing my hand on her arm, my voice low. “Mia, please.”
“Dante,” she says. “I can’t… I don’t know you. Please.”
“Mia.”
I take her by the arm and pull her toward the elevator. She comes with me, but reluctantly, and I can tell she’s waiting for a chance to run again. What do I do if she starts fighting me? Wrestle her? Restrain her? I don’t want to hurt her.
When I move into the elevator, she tries to back away again. I move my body into her path, then crowd her into the elevator, jamming the button behind me and pushing her against the wall. I can feel her body, the heat of it, the curviness.
“They’ll understand,” she snaps as the doors close.
“I can’t risk it.”
“Why? Got your eye on a new car? Pathetic.”
Her eyes are wide and wild. She looks like she’s got shell shock. Even so, part of her seems guilty for what she just said.
“It’s more complicated than that,” I tell her.
“Complicated enough to fucking kidnap me?”
“You said you wanted somebody to kidnap you.”
She leans back and tilts her head. Something like disgust touches her perfect, princess features like she feels gross at the idea of me invading that personal conversation. “You were listening to us at the party? To me and Lexi?”
“You wanted this,” I snap, pressing her gently against the wall. “Now, you don’t have to marry that creep. He got what he deserved.”
I take her hand, trying to guide her inside. She snatches her hand away and walks into the apartment. I follow her, then turn and quickly type in the code. Lockdown… Maybe she really is a princess, and this is her tower in the castle where she’s banished.
“I need your phone,” I tell her.
She turns to me and bites her lip. I almost kiss her. It aches to be this close to her. She’s still got that terrified look as if she thinks I’m going to hurt her. I’ve forced her to come here. Maybe I didn’t have to hurt her, but she’s here, and she doesn’t want to be.
“Mia…”
She turns and runs into the apartment, snatching her phone from a fold in her dress. She’s yelling into it, “Please, please help…”
I run after her, grab the phone, and throw it so hard against the wall it erupts. She gasps and leaps away from me, covering her face. It stings me on a deep level. It hurts me, having her think I’d ever do anything to hurt her.
I grab the phone and snap the SIM. She groans and turns in a circle, looking around the loft-style apartment, open plan in the extreme. From this one spot, we can see the kitchen, the family room, a small workout area, and a bedroom. The bathroom and another bedroom are down the hall.
“What is this place? Your bachelor pad?”
“Were you calling the cops?” I say.
“Elio,” she replies. “I don’t want you to get into trouble, you crazy person, but you’re going nuts if you think Elio and Luca would blame you.”
She sits on the sleek, modern-looking gray couch. I sit near her, my hand trembling. I want to grab her so badly, own a thick handful of her perfect leg, and press my lips against hers.
“It’s not about them. It’s about Vito Santoro and Tony Marino. Both those names mean something. There are prices that must be paid for what I did.”