31. Tasha

31

I glance around, my hearing still dulled by the plunge I took. High above me, men are shouting at me as they cautiously lean over the cliff. I don't care to hear. Already the speedboat is coming in my direction. Soon I'll be gone and not a bullet wasted.

A man on the speedboat tosses a lifebuoy out to me and I'm grateful that I can stop kicking. I'm frantic as my dress's fabric is heavy when soaked and I'm weak with the shock of what I've done.

I actually jumped.

The men on the boat are calling to me now, speaking in fast Italian, as they maneuver the boat closer to me. I watch them as they glance up the cliff to where Burley is screaming my name.

I can't stomach looking in his direction. Matteo is going to kill him for letting me slip through his fingers.

A hand reaches out for me and pulls me from the water. I'm beaching on the boat's floor like a whale, relief seeping into my veins.

I actually jumped.

I'm free.

The two men talk to me at speed, gesturing with their hands, but I don't understand as I just try to catch my breath. One of them touches my shoulder but I pull away. "I'm fine. I'm fine." Adrenaline is rushing through my veins. I'm only vaguely aware that the boat's engine is going again, that we're heading away from the cliff.

My dress clings to my body, a second skin. Matteo's mom's rings are still on my finger, and for a short second I'm tempted to toss them into the sea. But then I recall the way Matteo said my mom's, how something in his eyes told me not to probe. That man has so many soft spots, weak points in his armor that he's exposed to me.

I sob, suddenly and uncontrollably. It's relief and regret and heartache all in one.

I had no choice.

Eventually I look up to where one of the men is waiting for me to calm down. He holds out his hand to me. The other man is at the helm, and we are hitting the swell at the speed we're going, making it hard to stand.

The man helps me up and I pull at my clingy skirts, the salt water already itchy on my skin. I need to keep my balance by leaning slightly forward with the speed of the boat.

"Scalera?" the man asks as he points at my chest. "You. Scalera?"

"No," I say, confused. How can he know Matteo's name?

It's only then that I notice the gun that he is holding in the other hand. A cold chill invades my whole body as the man grabs my shoulder, and I do a two-step not to fall over with the force he is gripping my flesh.

"No?" He jerks me closer to his body, his eyes piercing into mine. "You jump from Scalera's property. You're Scalera's property," he sneers, revealing perfect teeth and the tip of a pink wet tongue that he sweeps over the line of his upper teeth as he waits for me to react.

"I—"

He shoves me so hard that I stumble and fall to the upholstered seat of the boat, grappling for the railing. Before I can even think, he has his knee pushed into my pelvis, pinning me to the seat as he ties my hands to the railing with a cable tie. I wince with the pain as the plastic cuts into my skin.

"Puttana," he hisses, and his spit splatters my face. "Randazzo sarà felice di avere in casa la puttana di Matteo Scalera."

I close my eyes, wanting only to weep. Puttana. Matteo Scalera. Words that need no translation. I kick at him, but he laughs.

"American whore," he says as he forces my legs open and ties them each to some hook on the boat's floor. When he's done, he points his gun at me, pushing at my wet skirts, his intent clear. I scream, but my voice is lost in the noise of the boat's engine and the vastness of the ocean.

For my efforts, I get a backhand over the cheek. My head whips to the side, and my wrists jerk at their constraints. I gasp in pain as blood seeps between my teeth, the taste making bile rise in my stomach.

The other man glances at me, a smile playing on his lips.

"Stop, idiota, leave the fun for later. Once Randazzo has seen her."

His perfect English rings in my ears with the force of the slap I got dealt.

Randazzo.

I have no clue who that is. All I know is that I've jumped into something without thinking. That I've gone from the frying pan into the fire.

These men weren't catching fish. They were spying on Matteo, waiting for a stupid woman to jump off the cliff. A woman Matteo doesn't care for. I'm just merch. Exchangeable for cash.

A virgin to be sold to the highest bidder.

For some reason I don't think that matters anymore. "A whore for life, or a whore for one night, Tasha. Choose."

A whore until I'm dead.

By jumping off that cliff, I've sealed my fate.