“You shouldn’t have done that,” he growls.
His expression switches to one that has me inching backwards, the satisfaction dimming.
“Leave me alone!” I cry.
He manages to grab me though, dragging me through the ground by the leg and pulling me close.
“This wasn’t supposed to be difficult,” he mutters. “Just go to sleep, Liliana.”
I feel his hand connecting with my neck and in the next moment, my vision goes black.
* * *
When I come to, I feel myself being lifted in the air. I keep my eyes shut so I don’t alert the men holding me to the fact that I’m consciousness. The fact that I woke up at all means they don’t plan to kill me. At least not immediately.
I hold on to that hope, wondering what they could want from me.
The person carrying smells really good, like vanilla and an underlying masculine scent. For some reason my brain decides to snag onto that fact even in this dangerous situation. His footsteps are loud against the floors as he walks to God knows where. A few seconds later, I’m being deposited onto something soft and warm. A bed.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” a voice drawls.
It’s the man from earlier, the one that knocked me out.
There’s no reply to the question I’m guessing is aimed at the man that carried me. But I do hear them leave, stepping outside the room and shutting the door. Their voices drift over in spite of it, low and controlled.
“Why the fuck is she hurt?”
The venom in the tone of this new man has my eyes fluttering open in shock. He sounds murderous. I strain my ears, trying to catch more of the conversation.
“Are you kidding me? Look at what she did to my head, fratello!” my captor snaps. “She threw a rock at me. Why the hell do you care?”
The murmured reply is too low for me to hear but I’m done listening. I decide to take stock of my surroundings. Rising to my feet, I look around the room and the sight that meets me has me wanting to faint for the second time.
I know this room. I’ve seen it in my dreams. I’ve thought about it so many times in the past year. And yet, it can’t be. It’s just a coincidence. Nothing but a sick twisted coincidence. I don’t know these walls. I don’t know recognize the bed and I definitely don’t remember the room at all.
I look around wildly, trying to find some type of weapon, something to arm myself with.
Especially because I’m starting to realize exactly who kidnapped me. And if it’s really him, I’m going to be dead soon enough. In the end, I grab a lamp on the bedside table, holding it up as my heart beats wildly in my chest.
Please, please, please don’t be him.
I’d rather it be anyone else but him.
I wait for the door to open it again and once it does a couple seconds later, my worst fears are confirmed.
Rafaelle Vitale is my worst nightmare made flesh. And despite the heavy weight of the lamp in my hand, cold fear paralyzes me to the spot. My first thought is how I could have ever allowed myself to think he was anything but a monster.
Even now in his casual clothes, wearing joggers and a black t-shirt that stretches across his shoulders, leaving most of his arms bare and his tattoos in full view. Rafaelle looks every bit like a king of the underworld.
And now that I’m in his home, I’m sure I’ll burn from the force of his depravity.
He stares at me for a long moment. That unnerving dark stare. I can’t believe I missed it. I can’t believe a part of me yearned for this man in front of me. I was so naïve, so stupid.
My spine jerks when his rough deep voice starts, “Aren’t you getting tired of holding that up, little siren? I believe you’ve done enough damage for one day.”
I blink. He sounds so normal. Almost casual. My vision turns hazy with anger and I remember the circumstances that brought me here in the first place. I remember I need to fight. The lamp in my hand does grows heavy and I decide I’d very much like to do some damage to his face as well.
He must read the resolution on my face. Lightning fast, he’s on me, pushing me against the wall before I can blink. He grabs the lamp in my hand, raising it even higher while his dark gaze meets mine.
