“Porca puttana,” he swore.
He shoved my shoulder when he reached me, and I flew to the ground. With my hands bound, I had no way to break the fall, and my forehead skidded against the pavement. Dark spots bloomed across my vision with the impact. I struggled against him as he pressed a knee against my lower back.
“Cazzo! Get up.”
He yanked me to my feet and wrapped one arm around my rib cage to pick me up. The world tilted as the sudden movement sent a wave of pain and dizziness through my skull. I fought hard, kicking and wrenching my bruised body to try to escape his grip. I started to release a shrill scream, hoping someone would hear me, but he pressed a palm to my mouth to muffle the sound. I bit down on the fleshy meat of his hand, and the taste of copper bloomed across my tongue as I broke skin.
“Stronza,” he swore as he dropped me to the ground. The toe of his boot met my rib cage in a hard kick. I wheezed at the impact and curled inward as the pain radiated through my body.
“Behave,” he ordered as he tossed me over his shoulder and carried me back into the hangar as I fought him like a feral cat, all claws and snarls. We returned to the small office in the back. He examined my pupils with the flashlight on his phone and shook his head. “You may have a small concussion,amore mio. And I’ll need to clean these scrapes. You shouldn’t have run.”
Luca rustled through the drawers in the room and sighed. “We may have to wait until we board the plane. I don’t see anything here to help you.”
He dialed a number on his phone. It rang several times before going to voicemail. He dialed it again. When the message replayed, he hung up and swore. He searched through his contacts and placed another call. This time, a voice answered.
“Where’s Peppe?” he growled.
I couldn’t make out the words on the other side of the line, but it clearly wasn’t the answer he wanted.
“Then get someone else out here.”
More apologies sounded from the other line.
“Unacceptable. We need to depart today.”
His face reddened as he heard the response.
“Fanculo! We can’t wait until morning. Call me as soon as you find someone else.” He slammed the phone to the table and glared at me, as if it were my fault.
He lifted me off the ground and sat me in a chair.
“You should let me go,” I pleaded. “I’ll forget this ever happened. Find a nice, obedient Italian girl. You don’t want me.”
Luca ignored me, pulling a rope from a bag in the corner and wrapping it around my body and the chair.
“We might not have a pilot until morning. I need to get us something to eat and drink.” He grazed his fingers across my face, and I recoiled. “I’ll grab something to clean these cuts, too.”
I jerked at the ropes but knew it was hopeless. He strode out of the room without a backward glance.
In the silence of the hangar, my shallow breaths broke the deafening silence. The stale air with its metallic tang of oil choked in my lungs. I squeezed my eyes shut, aiming to quiet my pulse.
I’d enjoyed Luca’s possessiveness when we’d first started dating. It seemed like passion then. Fiery and flattering. His attention felt like love bordering on obsession, like the romance novels I’d kept hidden under my bed as a teenager. The way he always wanted to know where I was, who I was with, seemed protective. And his single-minded focus on getting what he wanted—the best surgeries, the reservations no one else could get, me—looked like dedication.
Now I saw it for what it really was.
Luca didn’t want a partner. He’d never wanted me to be his wife.
He wanted ownership.
And, when my rejection made his entire house of cards collapse, he wanted victory.
That he’d planned this, that he’d taken the time and effort to buy a forged passport and falsify medical documentation, horrified me. I couldn’t board that plane, because getting out of a foreign country where I didn’t speak the language, without a passport, would be near impossible, especially knowing he’d have security on me twenty-four-seven.
The old wooden chair creaked as I shifted my weight. The rope dug into my ribs, but Luca—always overconfident—had left my legs unbound. I scootched the chair around, looking for anything that could help me escape.
My head throbbed as my eyes searched the room. The sides of an old filing cabinet were too smooth. The fire extinguisher could be a useful weapon once my hands were free, but it wasn’t helpful at the moment.
I glanced down and noticed the jagged edge of steel on the legs of the old desk. I grimaced at the rough, rusty texture.
