Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“Then tell us, Rai,” my best friend asks and I take a deep lungful of air, hoping it will give me the confidence to admit the mistakes of our families. Before I can, a man dressed in exquisite Armani steps up to our table with the bravado of only a member of the Nostra can.
“Ladies.” The quirk of his mouth lifts into a smirk, and it’s then that I notice the two men flanking him. A flick of his fingers commands me to shift so he can sink into the bench seat beside me. The two bodyguards, at least that’s what I think they are, step closer to the table, prohibiting us from leaving. We’re trapped.
“Who are you?” He leans back, his arm curling around my shoulders as he pulls me closer. The thick scent of an expensive, spicy cologne invades my nostrils. The smell is familiar and I wrack my brain trying to figure out when or where I’ve come across it before.
“I, my sweet Raina, am Cristiano. I’m sure you remember me. Don’t you?” he whispers in my ear and the memory hits me square in the chest. “I think it will stay our little secret,” he murmurs quietly. It’s him. Shit. “My two friends over here, Luciano and Armand, they’re just here to make sure you pretty ladies don’t cause a scene.” His fingertips trace circles over my bare shoulder, which cause me to shudder. His dark, slicked back hair, tanned skin, and thick Italian accent tell me he knows Franco from back home.
“What do you want?”
He smiles then. If he wasn’t scaring me, I’d have said it was a handsome smile. He pins me with the most intense green eyes I’ve ever seen that remind me of Chartreuse. Almost luminous. And against his olive skin tone, he could easily pass as a model for GQ. The expensive suit is tailor made because when he moves it hugs his torso perfectly.
“You’re going to be visiting my home for a little while, and since you’ve got these lovely ladies with you, they might as well come too. We can have a little party.” His voice drops on the last few words and the rasp of hunger is clear.
“Franco—”
“Will know where you are. You see, he owes me, and I’m here to collect.” The corner of his full pink lips lifts into a perfect sinister smirk that has fear slowly dripping into my bloodstream as if I’d taken a shot of alcohol.
“Listen, I think you’re making a—”
My words are cut off when I feel the barrel of cold metal pressed against my ribs. “Does this feel like I’m making a mistake, tesoro?” The way he murmurs sweetheart in his language stirs anxiety in my belly and I can’t find words to respond. Instead, I shake my head and meet my cousin’s blue eyes. Fear dances in them and I nod. Hoping she’ll play along so we don’t get hurt.
When I was accosted in the nightclub almost three weeks ago, Franco came to my rescue, but this time, I don’t think he will. He’s away on business in New York for two days with Matteo, leaving only Gio here. But of course, work called and he’s left us alone.
“Come on, we’re going for a drive.” Cristiano tugs me to standing and pulls me along, while his two goons do the same with Adria and Calista. As we walk through the darkened restaurant, I wish that someone will notice what’s going on, but all the patrons are deep in their own conversations. “And don’t try anything because I’m already tempted to find out what Franco sees in you. Don’t force my hand.” The warning in his voice has me nodding.
When we arrive in the parking lot, there’s a blacked-out SUV waiting, the engine running, and the door opens as we near it. Once inside, I’m wedged against a door I’m sure won’t open if I try, but I know it would be stupid of me to attempt escape when they’ve got my cousin and best friend with sleek guns pointed at them.
Closing my eyes, I pray, beg, and plead with the gods, anyone who can hear, for Franco, Matteo, or Gio to find me, us. As the car pulls away, we sit in chilled silence.
The ride seems to take a long while, and as much as I’m trying to gauge where we are by looking out the window, it’s dark out. The only thing I can tell is that we’re no longer on the highway. The back roads are dark or dimly lit, so nothing is clear from inside the vehicle.
Cristiano’s body is pressed against mine as he holds me against him. My hands fist, and my nails dig into my palms to keep from crying, to just feel anything but this numbing fear that I’m about to get tortured or worse, killed.