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"Then show me the whole picture… convince me that my article is baseless.”
Leave. Just leave. Please.
He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “Why is it so damn hard with you.” He rubs his face. “I don’t need to convince you. I need you to understand the game you’ve entered. You’re not dealing with a mundane news story for your magazine. This can cost you everything.”
“If you think you can scare me into silence, you’re so wrong, Tommaso.” I look at the floor, avoiding his gaze.
Tommaso leans in, lifting my chin, his eyes boring into mine. “I don’t want to scare you, ragazzina. I want you to comprehend the magnitude of your actions. There are lines you don’t cross, and you’ve come dangerously close to one.”
“What is this? A threat? You’d kill me…?”
Any confidence that I have, falters, as I look in those dark eyes. Yes.
His gaze tells me he won’t think twice about killing me.
His expression tightens, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Stubbornness might be your fatal flaw.”
“I wish I’d never met you! You monster!” I let the anger take over. I push against one of the bulky guys blocking the door and punch him in the gut. He doesn’t even budge.
Shit. I try to scream, but Tommaso’s firm hands cup my face, silencing me. His gaze locks onto mine, his eyes filled with a mixture of intensity and darkness. I can feel his warm breath against my skin, and it sends shivers down my spine.
“Shhh,” he whispers, his voice low yet commanding. “It’s okay, there's no need to be afraid."
I struggle against his grip, desperate to make my voice heard. But his touch is gentle yet unyielding, as if he knows exactly how to contain the storm brewing inside me.
He leans closer, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. "Trust me, if you behave, you’ll be safe," he murmurs, his voice filled with an unspoken promise.
I'm on the verge of a panic attack, struggling to maintain composure. My breaths come in ragged gasps. The realization that my life is at stake fuels my terror.
In a moment of desperation, I blurt out a haunting question, my voice shaky and trembling. "Am I really going to die?" The question hangs in the air.
Tommaso responds with a dismissive laugh, a mean and dismissive response that offers no reassurance. This is it, Ella. I notice a subtle nod to one of his men in the room, and before I can comprehend anything, one of the men presses a damp cloth against my face. My vision blurs, and the room spins into darkness.
The last thing I see is Tommaso's unnerving wink before everything blacks out.
Chapter Eleven
TOMMASO
The scent of chloroform lingers in the air as Ella succumbs to its effects, her eyes losing focus. My gaze remains fixed on her as she falls into Francesco’s arms.
Her shirt slips off her shoulder, showing her red bra strap, and I am distracted by the curve of her boobs. I feel the urge to fuck her there and then. Take my anger out on her. She's limp in his arms, a mere vessel for the chaos she's started. I rub my forehead.
What will I do when she wakes up? The last two days have felt like a train wreck. The room, now charged with tension, awaits my next command.
"Take her to the penthouse," I instruct, my voice unwavering. "To the guest room. Lock the door once she's inside." The men nod in understanding. They move swiftly, bearing her weight with a calculated grace that betrays their years of experience in handling delicate situations.
"Take care of her," I instruct, my eyes still on her. "But remember, she's not to leave that room without my permission." As they carry her away, I remain in the shaggy office, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Soft and beautiful, yet stubborn inside.
Ella Hart, the journalist who dared to pry into the secrets of my world, is now my prisoner. I shift my focus to the matter at hand now. Mauro.
At 3 pm, Francesco and I head to Birchwood, the place where all the clans’ bosses have been summoned for an urgent meeting. I cannot allow my frustration to surface. I sit at the head of the dimly lit conference room, the smoke from my cigar creating a grey haze. My fingers drum a staccato rhythm on the polished table as I address the assembled clan leaders.
I look around to see if everyone is present. Dante and Francesco are sitting on either side of me.
Carlo, Bruno - The brothers heading the Marziale Family.
Tony - The head of the Luciani Family.
