“I was really hoping we could do this the easy way.” Dante sounds detached and irritated, a far cry from the flirt who threw me over his shoulder with ease.
I remember then how he sounded in that conference room, too—like this entire ordeal was some kind of inconvenience. Vaguely, I wonder if he likes this situation any more than I do. If I can somehow use that to my advantage.
“You really think the TSA is going to let you drag me through security?” I bite back.
“Nope,” he pops the “p”, and the car lurches to one side, launching me awkwardly against the door. “They’ll let me through with an unconscious woman in desperate need of medical attention, though.”
Fury rallies in my veins. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, I absolutely would,” he replies entirely seriously. “I’d just prefer it if you did this willingly. Saves me the headache.”
I don’t trust the fact he’s giving me a choice one bit.
“What’s stopping me from just saying I’ll play along and then causing havoc at the most inconvenient opportunity?”
Dante lets out a sigh that promptly turns into a groan. “See, now I’m just going to have to drug you. You could have just kept your mouth shut, but no.”
“You’re kidnapping me to an entirely different country. What else do you expect me to do?”
“Have the common sense to have at least a little self-preservation!” he snaps right back.
The car comes to an abrupt stop, and I listen intently as Dante throws the car open and slams it back shut. It takes about two seconds for the door I’m leaning against to jerk open, and I shriek as I try to regain my balance.
A firm hand steadies me by the shoulder, and a moment later, the bag is removed from my head.
I blink as my pupils adjust to the sudden onslaught of evening light and, perhaps, more annoyingly, Dante’s face glaring down at me.
“I’m going to give you one last opportunity to behave yourself,” his dark eyes offer no room for compromise. “You might be nothing more than a spoiled, naive little princess who probably deserves it. But I am not the kind of man that goes around tranquilizing women.”
“Just the kind of man that kidnaps them from their own homes, is that it?” I spit right back. “You’re still a fucking creep.”
Something hardens in his expression as the grip on my shoulder tightens. He moves forward, crowding me so that our faces are mere inches apart.
“Let me make one thing very clear to you,” his voice is no louder than a whisper, but its sheer dominance sends a shudder down my spine. “I am already so fucking close to gagging you until Leon decides you’re worthy of his time again.”
I feel a breath catching somewhere in my lungs, not quite able to escape under the ferocity of his gaze.
“That could be weeks. It could be months. So don’t push me, princess. Keep your cheeky little remarks to yourself because it’s just me and you. There’s no one left to protect you, now.” He finally lowers his gaze to grab something I can’t quite see.
There’s a retort on the tip of my tongue until he looks at me again, and I’m entirely frozen in fear.
Then I feel it.
The sharp prick in the side of my neck.
Dante withdraws the syringe quickly, discarding it and pressing something firmly to the entry point.
Immediately, darkness begins to creep into the corner of my vision, and my dramatically racing pulse begins to slow. Vaguely, I’m aware of my mouth opening and closing. I can hear someone gasping, but it feels so far away.
My sole focus is on understanding the next words out of his mouth.
“You don’t want me as your enemy.”
Delirium is a funny thing.
Biologically speaking, I know what’s happening to my body. But up until this point, it’s always been theoretical.
The drug suppressed my nervous system, but now the tranquilizer is wearing off. The return to awareness is slow—liketrying to swim through syrup. My muscles are stiff, and my body feels heavy, almost disconnected.
