6. Fiamma

SIX

Fiamma

The door creaks open, and I hear his footsteps before I see him. Marco Vitale. I know it's him. My heart pounds in my chest, a mix of fear and disgust flooding through me as I wait for him to step into the dim light.

He's taller than I remember—broader, too. Or maybe that's just the fear talking. His dark hair is slicked back, and he's dressed like he always is—sharp, expensive clothes that scream wealth.

But nothing about him looks clean to me. His stare is cold, calculating, the kind of eyes that make you feel like you're being sized up for a deal you never agreed to.

I never liked him. Not really. He was fun to flirt with at the clubs, and sure, we hooked up a few times, but that's all it ever was. Fun. Something to do when the music was loud, the drinks were strong, and the lights were low enough that I could pretend there was no history between our families.

But now, standing here in front of me, there's nothing fun about him. Nothing playful. Just cold, hard reality—and the power he holds over me.

He steps closer, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looks me over, tied to this chair like I'm his prized possession. "You're awake. Good. I was starting to wonder if you'd ever come to."

I glare at him, swallowing down the knot of fear in my throat. "What do you want, Marco? Why are you doing this?"

He chuckles, stepping closer, his presence filling the room in a way that makes the walls feel like they're closing in on me. "Isn't it obvious? You think you could just walk away from me, from the future we had, like it meant nothing?"

He's delusional. Maybe I didn't realize how crazy he was because I only ever saw him after a few drinks in a dark club. We even discussed that we could never be anything more than a fling, fun in the dark, because of our family histories.

"Because it meant nothing," I snap, my blood boiling. "We were both just having a good time. We were never going to be anything, you knew that. It wasn't possible."

The smirk fades from his face, replaced by something darker. He reaches out, brushing a finger down my cheek, and I have to force myself not to flinch. "You always were good at pretending, Fiamma. But I don't believe you. You see, I have bigger plans for us."

My stomach churns at the thought. I always knew Marco had a twisted side, but this? This isn't about having fun, it's about control .

I lean back in the chair, forcing myself to relax, to play this carefully. He's got me tied up, but I'm not helpless. Not yet.

I meet his gaze, softening my voice, letting it drop into something that sounds almost seductive. "You really think this is the way to get what you want? By tying me up and dragging me here like a prisoner? At Christmas, no less?"

A low hum escapes his throat, but he doesn't back away. "You think I don't know how this works? Your family—my family—we've been at each other's throats for years. I'm just making sure I get what I deserve. I was always the spare, the number two. But if I can infiltrate the Lucianas from the inside, I'm the fucking mack daddy."

"And what do you deserve, Marco? How is this going to work?" I ask, tilting my head slightly, letting my hair fall over one shoulder. "How can we make this happen?"

If I appeal to him this way, maybe he will trust me enough to untie me. He always liked to roleplay this dominant boss. Maybe all of this is about his flexing. If I can make him believe he is in control of me, then I can turn the tables.

He steps closer, his breath hot against my skin as he leans down. "Everything. The Luciana family thinks they're untouchable, but with you, I have something I can use against them. I can make them bend. I can make them suffer."

My pulse quickens, but I keep my expression calm. I need to figure out what he's planning. "You think holding me hostage is going to change anything? They'll come for me. Luca Rossi is my personal bodyguard here. You know how he is. "

At the mention of Luca's name, something flashes across his hard face—jealousy, maybe. His grip tightens on the back of my chair. "Luca is nothing against me."

I press my lips together, my mind racing. He's serious. His intentions go beyond seeking revenge. Using me, he intends to bring my family to its knees.

But I'm not done yet.

I shift in the chair, leaning toward him slightly, making sure my movements are deliberate, calculated. "Maybe I can help you."

He raises an eyebrow, but his grip loosens ever so slightly. "Oh? And what would you suggest?"

I give him a slow smile, letting my gaze drop to his lips before meeting his eyes again. "You and me. We can be together. And I can help you bring my family down from the inside, just like you said."

For a moment, he hesitates, and I can feel the conflict in the air, emanating from him. He still wants me, even if he's twisted it into something darker, something cruel. But that desire? It's still there. And I can use it.

But then he straightens up, his expression hardening again. "Nice try, Fiamma. But I know you too well. You'll say anything to get out of this." He steps back. He's gone cold once more. "But it won't work. Not this time."

"Why do you say that, Marco? I've told you before I don't want to be held down by my brother, or by Massimo. Now is my chance, our chance, to carve our own path. Let me help you bring them all down. "

It takes a little more convincing, but he's butter in my hands. God, men are so stupid, especially when they are desperate to prove something. A few sexy purrs and an offer to deliver access to Massimo while everyone's guard is down is all it takes.

Marco leans back against the rickety table, arms crossed, watching me with that cold, calculating look. I know he's already bought into the plan. I just need to seal it.

"You go back," he says, his voice low, almost too casual. "You play the victim. Make them think you escaped on your own. They'll trust you, they have no reason to believe you would turn on them. Do you think you have what it takes to pull this off?"

I nod, forcing myself to keep calm, to act like this is exactly what I want, too. "Absolutely. I was born for this shit. I know Massimo gets his daily massages, that is the perfect opportunity. We'll pounce when he least expects it."

His gaze narrows as he assesses me. "I'm liking this. I think you might be on to something."

I look at him, certain not to flinch even a hint, for fear he will see right through me. "I know them better than anyone. They won't suspect a thing."

"I want to do it here, in Winter Haven. Tomorrow."

"That is fast but I think we can do it. I need to find out when he will be alone."

"I like the idea of the massage. I want to put a bullet in his head while he is naked, humiliate the bastard one last time. When is it? "

"I don't know his schedule. I'll have to find out. I can call you."

"No calls. They can intercept that. Something they would never think of. Let me think on that one."

He pushes off the table and takes a step closer, his presence heavy, suffocating. "I'll let you go. But it has to look real. No one would believe you just slipped away without getting hurt. And they certainly won't believe I was dumb enough to make a mistake like that."

"Okay, I'll do whatever you want. You want to rough me up some?"

He pauses, his lips curling into a smirk. "You'll run barefoot. Through the snow. You just better hope you find someone to rescue you sooner than later. And it was one of my guys guarding you, not me."

"I could die out there, Marco. I don't have the proper clothes. What if no one finds me?"

"If you die trying, then you aren't strong enough anyway to pull it off."

My stomach drops. Barefoot. In the snow. I can already feel the ice biting into my skin, the cold tearing through me like knives. But I keep my expression blank. If this is what it takes to escape, I'll do it.

"Of course, that makes perfect sense," I say softly, trying to sound agreeable. "It has to look convincing."

Marco studies me for a moment longer before turning his head toward the door. "One of my men will untie you. He'll be careless—he'll leave you alone for just long enough. Capeesh? "

My heart races, but I keep my breathing steady. I've got him. He thinks I'm on his side, and he's too arrogant to see the truth. I've come this far, I'll make it. I'd rather die out there than by his hand.

"I'll do it," I say, letting my voice drop to a whisper, trying to sound like I'm in awe of his brilliance. "I'll help you take over Las Vegas. We'll bring my family down together. We'll be unstoppable."

His smug grin grows, and I can sense the hunger bursting out of him—the hunger for power, for control. He reaches out, brushing a hand down my arm, and I force myself not to flinch. "You're smarter than I gave you credit for, Fiamma."

He leans forward and kisses me. His hot breath almost makes me gag. But I kiss him back, letting his thick tongue make its way around my mouth.

It's all I can do not to thrust him away angrily. I have to keep up the fa?ade. My life depends on it.

When he pulls away, he studies me, looking for any sign of deception. I smile, but it's thin, hollow. Luckily, he is too deep in his psychosis to notice. "Thank you, Marco. You're brilliant. No one will see it coming."

He nods and steps away. "We don't have much time, you need to get out of here so you can get back to me with a time, place and how I will access him. I want to destroy your family before they leave this town to go back to Nevada. There is no time to waste."

The door creaks open, and he's gone. I release the breath I've been holding as my mind races. This is it .

Minutes pass, and the door scrapes on the hard floor as it opens again. One of Marco's goons steps inside, a man I recognize from the club. With a dull presence and big hands, he stands out. He's the type of guy who acts without much thought, I imagine.

He kneels behind me and loosens the ropes around my wrists. My skin burns where the rope has rubbed it raw, but I barely register the pain. He's distracted, looking over his shoulder, checking the door. When he moves to stand, he doesn't bother tightening the knots again.

Mission accomplished.

Neither of us speaks. I wonder if he was told to leave me like this or what is going on, but I'm not here to ask questions. Marco told me the plan and I see my chance to escape.

Now.

I pull my hands free and glance at the door. He's left it open just a crack. I can hear his footsteps moving away, everyone playing their part.

My feet hit the cold concrete floor, and I take off, running for the back door, my heart pounding. I yank it open, and the icy wind hits me like a wall, biting into my skin. But I don't stop. I can't stop.

The snow is deep, and it feels like a thousand needles piercing my feet with every step, but I push through. My breath becomes ragged with each labored step, the cold burns my lungs, and every part of me screams to stop, to turn back. But I keep running.

The woods stretch out in front of me, a maze of trees and shadows. I can hear nothing but the pounding of my own heart, the crunch of snow under my bare feet, and the wind howling through the trees. Every step is agony, but I push through, knowing if I stop, I'm dead.

Branches claw at my arms, the icy ground cuts into me, and my vision blurs as the frigid air tightens its grip. I'm starting to lose feeling in my toes, but I push forward, gasping for oxygen as I break through the treeline.

The road is up ahead, barely visible through the trees. I stumble forward, falling to my knees before I push myself up again. I can't feel my legs anymore, but I have to keep going.

Just as I reach the edge of the road, headlights cut through the darkness. A car. My only hope.

I wave my arms, screaming for help, though my voice is weak, hoarse from the cold. I think I'm still crying, but there are no tears left to shed.

It's like everything inside of me has turned into ice. The car slows, and I stumble forward, collapsing on the side of the road just as the door opens.

I barely remember the ride back to the lodge. I'm half-conscious when I stumble inside, the warmth hitting me in a wave that makes my body shudder with relief.

Marina Catalano is the first person I see. She covers her mouth with her hand, and rushes toward me, wrapping me in a blanket. Her voice is soft but urgent. "Dio mio, Fiamma! What happened? "

"I escaped," I whisper, my throat raw. "I got away. Where is Luca?"

She nods, helping me into a chair in a small room off of the entrance. Her hands moving quickly as she grabs more blankets. "Luca has been worried sick. I'll call him now. He'll come right away."

I pull my legs up and wrap my arms around them, trying to warm my frozen limbs. My mind is still racing.

I made it. I escaped Marco. But this is only the beginning.