Chapter 9

As Ricky changes the bandage on my wound, I bury my face in my pillow to hide how badly the sharp intense burning sensation affects me. Thanks to Maddox dumping me in the shower and drowning me in cold water, it was wet all the way through. The man’s an obnoxious asshole. I think I despise him even more than Ricky, and it’s his fault I got shot.

“There you go. You’ll be back to normal in no time,” Ricky says, fixing the bandage back in place then cradling me in his arms as he assists me up to sitting.

I gaze up at him, feeling lost. He’s so confusing. Compassionate and nurturing about tending to my injury, but heartless when it comes to having me locked up against my will. He smiles back at me, his boyish dimples showing. He’s young for a doctor; he couldn’t have been out of medical school for long.

“I’ll show you how to use the crutches, so you don’t have to hobble around holding on to walls. This place is pretty big.” He grips my hand while sliding his thumb back and forth. It’s comforting when I feel so alone, and as much as I put on a brave act with these guys, I’m shitting myself.

“Thank you.” I offer a half smile back, grateful for his kindness in taking care of me, even if I know it’s mostly out of guilt. I can see it in his eyes that he’s blaming himself for what happened to me. Every worried glance he runs over me, every inch of kindness is laced with guilt. I wonder how a hardened criminal like him can afford a conscience.

Maddox taps his watch, getting our attention, and I glare at him. What is the rush?

Ricky tries to help me up to standing, but I need some distance from him. He’s all flirty tonight, and this connection between us is getting stranger by the second.

“I’ve got it,” I say, taking the crutches, holding them under my arms. Maddox’s snippy attitude has snapped me back to reality. Ricky isn’t sweet. He’s a fucking asshole just like his friend. It would do me good to remember just that.

They unlock the door, and I follow them out. Passing by a long hallway, there are other doors, and I wonder if they sleep down at this end of the house as well. Or is this where they hold all their prisoners? We take an elevator down to the floor below. A fucking elevator! Not to say I’m not grateful in my current condition, but even my father’s house didn’t have something so extravagant. How massive is this place?

Thick tension swirls in the air between us. Ricky gives Maddox a look I don’t like, something passing between them. The thought of what I’m about to walk in on makes my stomach churn uncomfortably. From what I have been able to work out in my short time here, these two both answer to this guy Alex, so he must be like the boss or something. Even more reason to not want to meet him.

The doors ping open, and I’m greeted with the aroma of fresh buttery garlic and herbs.

I hobble out behind them into a vast space that looks a lot like a living room. A massive one. There’s a coffee-colored leather sofa in the center of the room and a fireplace on the opposite wall, a full kitchen off to one side with at least an eight-seater dining table.

My heart constricts when I see who’s sitting at the head of the table, dressed in a dark well-tailored suit and a menacing smirk that sets off a mix of fear and disbelief flooding my veins.

It couldn’t be.

I stand frozen to the spot, while the others glance back at me, confused. What is Alessandro Moretti doing here? He was a close friend of my father’s. And…I feel my heart racing like never before. He’s not only that but my first boyfriend, if you could call what we had a relationship.

A lump gets caught in my throat, and I gulp it down, trying to get a grip on reality, but the walls feel like they’re caving in. It’s been two years since I last saw him, and things didn’t end well. Panicked, I glance toward Ricky, searching his pretty-boy face for answers. Did he know who Alessandro was to me?

“Do you need a hand?” he asks, looking concerned.

“No,” I mutter shakily, not sure what to do. I want to run. Run like hell, but in my current condition, I can’t.

“Please join us, princess,” Alessandro says, more of a demand than a suggestion, and I know for sure it’s him. That’s his deep, commanding voice, the one that used to set my insides alight. And his nickname for me.

He was my dirty little secret. My papa thought I was a good girl, still innocent, but Alessandro stole my heart and claimed my body one night right under my father’s very roof. I knew it was wrong—he was eleven years older than me—but I didn’t care. He was charming in a dark and dangerous kind of way, and he was gorgeous. I could stare into his deep brown eyes for days. Not only that but he was rich as fuck; his family also owned one of the biggest casinos this side of the world.

His dark gaze fixates on me, his handsome face contorting in irritation as he runs a hand through his stubble, and I know I need to get moving. Alessandro’s not messing around. There was always an edge to him, something rough and a little wicked that lured me to him in the first place, but not like this. Now I can see he’s harder.

I put one crutch forward and pull my other leg through, moving cautiously toward the table set with our dinner. The other two take their seats, leaving me a spot next to Alessandro, across from Maddox and beside Ricky. Dinner in a prison, with three monstrous men. Who all look like walking wet dreams. Just my dumb luck.

I attempt to sit gracefully with my injured thigh. With them all so close by, I’m sure they can hear the erratic hammering of my heart. I’m speechless, sitting quietly and fixating on the fragile fine china before me. Because looking at any of them, especially the man at the end of the table, terrifies me. What is he doing here? Or better yet, why am I here with him?

“It’s a pleasure to have you join us, princess.” His voice is cool and holds the charm of a man who knows me intimately.

I tilt my head upward and lock eyes with him. The instant I do, I wish I didn’t. I’m immediately sucked into his magnetic vortex, intense chemistry disorienting my senses. How is it possible that I haven’t seen him in years, yet I still have the desire to sit on his lap and ride his cock like the good girl I always was for him?

His lips quiver with the hint of a smile, as if he’s struggling to suppress it. He’s pleased to see me, but there is a don’t-fuck-with-me edge to his demeanor that I don’t like. Maybe it’s a front for the other boys, or maybe this is just the way he is now.

The nickname takes me back to our first night together and a rush of wetness dampens my panties at the memory. It was my father’s fifty-fifth birthday, and Alessandro had spent the night flirting with me. He couldn’t wait for my papa to be distracted so we could sneak up to my room while he was entertaining his friends from his luxury car showroom.

Alessandro was obsessed with my red hair from the moment he laid eyes on it. I can still feel the intense pull of his fist wrapped around my ponytail as he kissed me savagely, like he would die if he didn’t get to taste my lips.

I glance up at him through dark lashes, my whole body overheating. I’m sure my cheeks are as red as tomatoes already. Was that his intention? By the intense expression on his face, I know it was. His eyes dance down my body with a heat I remember all too well.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Maddox.” Ricky’s voice slices through the heavy silence. My attention shifts to the other boys, remembering they’re still in the room. Ricky cuts into his Veal Marsala, taking a second bite. He’s stacked garlic bread high on his plate, accompanying what looks like rigatoni pasta and marinara sauce.

Maddox made this food? It looks gourmet, like the meals my father’s chef made for us. No part of me can fathom that Maddox has culinary skills. I can, however, imagine him using knives, but that would be more to slice through the flesh of his enemies.

“Lana?” Maddox asks, preparing to scoop some of the delicious-smelling food onto my empty plate.

On autopilot I hold out my plate. “Just a little, please,” I say with more attitude than I should to the man serving me food. But I’m still mighty pissed about the shower incident and him insisting on using that name like he knows something. I look him over, my eyes narrowing. Does he know something? I’m sure by now they would have found my car parked in the woods and my wallet and phone that I left in there. Is his fucking nickname a dig at me and the secret identity I was using to hide from them? He’s not as clever as he thinks if it is.

He loads up my plate, then hands it to me, a menacing smirk on his face. He doesn’t give a fuck what I say, he just does whatever the hell he likes. And makes sure he’s smug as shit about it. Asshole.

“Thank you,” I sass, placing the plate back in front of me. It looks incredible, and I can’t believe that Maddox could be the chef to create all of this, but I guess all I currently know about him is that he takes pleasure in making me uncomfortable and he’s a thug who kills people.

Normally I would be all in for homecooked Italian food, but I am overcome with uncomfortable nausea, surrounded by these guys, especially Alessandro. Things between us ended terribly, and I haven’t seen him since because my papa wouldn’t allow it. It makes this situation awkward.

I never expected to see him again. Not that I didn’t want to, I did, but I just never thought it would be possible, with his high profile and my papa shipping me off.

A million questions race through my mind, making my head spin. Was he really a friend of my father’s? Was he there the night they got killed? Was everything I knew about this man just some ploy?

Alessandro cracks open a bottle of bubbly and fills four glasses. I glance at him curiously. He hands me a glass, our hands brushing slightly, forcing me to suck in a deep breath. He knows the effect he has on me. The attraction that used to swirl between us still lingers, a dangerous and intoxicating force that both excites and now terrifies me. “A toast,” he announces, tapping his glass with a knife .

The others both stop eating and give him their full attention. Seems like he is king shit around here. The tension in the room intensifies if that is even possible, shared looks passing between the three of them. Why do I feel like the only one not in on the joke?

Our eyes lock, his dark gaze meeting mine as the side of his mouth twitches into a menacing smirk. “To my beautiful fiancée, I’m glad you’re finally home under my roof where you belong.” His callous smile fills me with terror, and I know that was his exact intention.

My wild eyes shoot straight to him in question. “F-fiancée,” I stutter, my voice trembling out.

His grin widens. “Yes, princess, you will soon be my wife,” he says with absolute certainty as he sips from his champagne flute.

For a second, I blink back at him, not sure how to react. The other two are deadly quiet, but I know they were fully aware of this bullshit. I glance to Ricky for help I know isn’t coming. His eyes show no remorse. These three are playing some fucked-up game that I haven’t been clued in on, and I’m not standing for it.

I place my glass down as calmly as I can with trembling hands. My chair scrapes on the marble floor, sending a shrill screech into the dead silence. Fumbling with my crutches, I stumble back, pain radiating through my leg, but I don’t care. I need to distance myself from them.

Three sets of eyes come to me in question. Alessandro polishes off his glass then places it down heavily.

“I don’t know what kind of fucked-up shit is going on here, but I’m no one’s wife.” My unsteady legs tremble, making me come off less confident than I am about this. I grab at the table for stability while I get my crutches sorted, my shaky hands unable to work fast enough in such panic.

“Sit down, Harley,” Alessandro shouts, his deep commanding voice like thunder, causing the table to shake as it vibrates off the walls .

My eyes rise to meet his, anger coming off me in waves, my fists clenched so tightly my knuckles turn white, ready to strike out at the injustice. He glares back, his breathing ragged like a rabid dog on the edge of losing it and going right for the jugular. Both of us are silently refusing to back down. But I’m not doing what he tells me to. He has no authority over me. Yeah, that domineering shit used to be fun in the bedroom when we were playing around, but he has to know, he can’t force me to do anything I don’t want to.

I won’t marry him, no matter what he says.

When my papa walked in on us together, he lost his shit. I’d never seen him so furious. Being locked away from society for most of my life may have been the reason for my seemingly good behavior. The boarding school he sent me to after my mother’s death was an all-girls’ institution overseen by nuns. Alessandro was the first man to give me any snippet of attention, and I couldn’t resist his charms. Angered by the situation, my papa promptly made arrangements for me to be booked on the earliest flight out of town, off to college two weeks earlier than I’d planned. Alessandro didn’t try to find me or fight for what we had. I was left with a broken heart, feeling alone and confused. That night was the last time I saw him.

And now he expects me to just accept that I’m marrying him. Is this the 1950s? I don’t fucking think so.

The other two remain quiet, and the tension is so palpable that I can feel it in the air. Bitter, suffocating.

Alessandro’s chair scrapes along the marble floor, sending a shiver down my spine. His heavy footsteps echo through the silence as he closes the gap between us. Using his bulky frame to tower over me, he exudes power and a dominance that affects me on so many levels. I forgot how massive he was. I lift my chin defiantly, trying not to show how rattled he makes me. He might have these two following his instructions, but I won’t be some little yes girl, sitting pretty by his side. He knows me, and he of all people should know my rebellious spirit won’t allow that.

His dark eyes intensify, and I can tell he’s about to fly off the handle. “You might have had your daddy wrapped around your little finger, princess, but while you’re in my house, you do as I say. SIT DOWN AND FINISH YOUR MEAL!”

The mere mention of my papa unleashes a torrent of emotions: grief, anger, betrayal. I’m shocked that he would even bring him into the conversation. It’s blatantly clear he had something to do with his murder. He was his friend, a business associate for years. “We can easily solve that problem. I’m not staying here,” I spit back, not ready to back down. He won’t control me.

He cracks his neck, and when his hand suddenly lands on my shoulder, I flinch against my will. As he leans closer, his fingers sink into my skin. A flutter ignites within me, being so close to him after so long. The sheer dominance his body has over mine. “Sit down.” His voice is low and dark, threatening.

My body reacts on instinct, sitting down under his intimidating gaze, but inside, I’m fuming with anger and a darkness comes over me. He just joined his buddies on my list of people to eliminate from this earth. And the sooner I work out how, the better.

I grip my steak knife in my fist, wishing I wasn’t so weak right now. Part of me wonders if his guard shooting me wasn’t a ploy to trap me here. My meal blurs in front of me. I’m fucking trapped, no one will tell me what’s really going on, and there’s no way out. But there is one thing I know for sure, I’m not the same girl he could charm two years ago. And I will not put up with this shit. I’m no one’s wife. No one’s possession .

“Eat your food, Harley, or I’ll have to resort to feeding you like a toddler,” he snips, and I can feel his heavy gaze on me. I don’t want to do what I’m told, but while I’m still injured, I can’t push my luck when I have no actual way of fighting back against them. If it was just him, I might try, but the three of them? There is no way, and I know it.

On autopilot, I pick up my fork and shovel some of the food in my mouth. It could be cardboard for all I know, with the bitterness still lingering in my mouth from that altercation. I was so wrong about him. I feel tricked. Manipulated. Who the hell is he, really? Not the man I met and fell for.

The trio of men surrounding me persist in their light-hearted conversation, seemingly oblivious to my presence, as if the distressing scene from earlier never took place. This shit is normal to them, and that scares me even more. How could this be normal? Maddox says something about a club, Flamingo Hotel. I’ve heard of it before, some trendy new joint that was an abandoned hotel, but I’ve never been. From what I’ve heard from Dani and the other girls I worked with at the diner, it’s one of those exclusive clubs. Members-only type arrangements. Sometimes when I worked the early shift at the diner, we would have partygoers drop in on their way home. Sounded like the place to be. But I didn’t have time to party when I was too busy trying to work that shitty job just to get by.

“When’s your next fight?” Ricky asks in Maddox’s direction. I glance toward him, wondering what fight?

“Two weeks,” Maddox grumbles around his mouthful.

“Did you hear he bought a basketball stadium, the one by the old quarry? ”

“He bought a lot of things,” Alessandro mutters, uninterested. I can feel his eyes on me, but I won’t look at him. I’m more curious about what the boys are talking about.

“Last I heard, Carlo was out of money and options.” Maddox sniggers.

“The gym must be more lucrative than it looks. Or he’s still getting by off the money he made last fight…” Ricky stops mid-sentence, and I glance at Alessandro to find he’s the one who’s cut their chat short. Who the fuck were they talking about?

They change topics to some other shit I don’t understand. I tune out their chatter. I hate every one of them. And as soon as I’m able-bodied again, they will pay for reducing me to this. Six months ago, I was a carefree college student, just waiting for the summer break so I could come home and spend some quality time with my brother Marco, a time that will never come now. My heart aches for him.

When my plate is empty, I place my fork and knife together politely and push my chair back, less aggressively this time. I did what I was told. Despite the uncomfortable churning in my stomach, I ate everything.

Getting to my feet, I fix my crutches. I sense Alessandro watching me, but I refuse to acknowledge him by looking back as I stumble away from the table. If I stay here with the three of them any longer, I’m going to do or say something I’m sure they will make me regret.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Alessandro growls.

“Back to my prison cell.” My words shake out of me, anger dripping off every word.

When he stands up and strides toward me, I hold my breath. He positions himself directly in front of me so I can’t get past him. His hand gently touching my chin, he directs my gaze to meet his. His eyes have a chilling presence, dark and threatening. He’s not the same man I knew either. To be honest, I never had a deep understanding of him. The time we had together was fiery and passionate, fucking wherever and whenever we could. It was impulsive and reckless, but I didn’t experience the emotional closeness I desired with him. He held me at a distance. Now I know why; he was lying through his teeth the whole time we were together.

“I didn’t dismiss you,” he says, and it feels like he’s inviting me to test his limits and see what he does. His fingers press into my chin, causing my skin to prickle. Tension swirls between us, dangerous like wildfire, untamed and all-consuming, threatening to burn everything in its path.

I glare back, trying to get the tremor of my body under control. I don’t want him to know the effect he has on me. “What are you going to do? Have one of your men shoot me again? Do your worst, Alessandro.” I pull out of his grip and storm off as best I can with my crutches.

“I’ll take her back to her room,” Ricky mutters.

But Alessandro stops him. “Let her go. She can’t get far without us knowing about it now, anyway.”

Goosebumps prickle up my arms. I’m not sure what that comment is supposed to mean, but I don’t stick around to ask. He probably wouldn’t tell me if I did.