Page 18 of Read This Before the Villain falls in Love with You

Most hostages shrink back or look for corners. Instead, she tracks the three guards rotating along the terrace rail, counting their paces like she's timing an elevator ride in an office block. Her heels stay planted into the stone, her jaw set at the exact angle of someone waiting out an audit she intends to win.

Now the sun sinks behind the hills, painting the terrace marble the color of fresh blood. She stands near the balustrade holding a glass of Barolo she refuses to drink, eyeing the vines below like they might sprout an exit route back to London if she glares at them long enough.

Without turning around, she tilts her chin toward the sunset. "Do you always stand around looking like a statue, or is this just for show?"

I stay by the stone table, watching the tight line of her shoulders. "I am watching the perimeter."

She snorts, swirling the dark wine in her glass. "Right. Watching. You look like you want to murder that cypress tree down there. It's very charming."

I step closer so our eyes stay locked. "I don't ask for permission. I take what I want, Nora. That's how this works."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Explains why you picked kidnapping instead of dating. Much less conversation that way."

"Dating doesn't keep people alive." The muscle ticks in her jaw, and I hold her eyes. "Fear does."

"Very poetic." She turns around, resting her hips against the marble rail. "Matteo warned me dinner is in twenty minutes. He said your grandmother cooked enough garlic to kill an army. Do you actually sit down and eat with your family, or do you just lurk in corners looking miserable?"

"I sit in chairs like everyone else," I reply, holding her gaze.

"With a napkin on your lap and everything?" She arches an eyebrow, looking genuinely skeptical.

"When required."

"Amazing. Next thing you know, you might crack a smile and scare the entire household." She sets the wine glass down on the stone rail. "Though I guess that would ruin your scary reputation."

I almost answer that when the first shot cracks the air. Stone chips explode two feet from her hip. Training takes over before thought does. I close the distance, shove her down behind the low wall, and cover her body with mine as the second and third rounds punch into the railing where her head had been.

"What the hell..." Nora gasps, coughing as stone dust rains down over us.

I bark into her ear, pinning her flat against the cold stone floor. "Stay down and shut up."

She shoves against my chest with both fists. "Get off me, you weigh a ton!"

"Don't move," I snap, drawing my weapon.

Boots scrape stone. Three men drop over the wall, Bellini tattoos flashing inside their dark jackets. My weapon comes up before the first one sets his balance. Two quick rounds take him in the chest, dropping him straight back into the thorns. As the second pivots toward Nora, a lead shot catches him cleanly beneath the collarbone. He slams into the balustrade and slides down the white marble in a thick smear of red.

The third shooter freezes in place. Closing the distance before he plants his boots, my palm strikes his wrist to snap the joint back. His gun clatters across the flagstones. A knee driven straight into his ribs knocks the breath out of him, leaving just enough room to jam the muzzle hard beneath his jaw. One trigger pull. Muzzle flash tears through the shadows, his dead weight buckles, and the body hits the gravel with a dull thud.

The smell of burnt powder hangs thick in the warm night air. Inside the villa, shouts echo down the corridors and heavy security boots hammer across tile as the secondary alarms kick in. I keep my gun up, sweeping the dark tree line and the stone parapet. Nothing moves. The breach is dead. I drop the muzzle toward the floor and look down.

Nora lies pinned beneath my weight against the cold marble, her knuckles jammed hard into my ribs. White stone dust covers her hair, her throat, and the front of her dark dress. She chokes once on the drifting grit, but her jaw stays set. She glares straight up into my eyes with fierce, unvarnished fury, her chest heaving hard against mine.

She plants both hands flat against my chest and shoves with everything she has. "Get off me right now!"

I shift back to let her sit up, but keep a grip on her shoulder while I check the dark yard. "Are you hit?"

"No. Take your hand off me before I bite it off." She smacks my wrist away with a hard glare.

I pull back. She scrambles to her feet, wine glass shattered somewhere nearby, dress smeared with dust and a streak of someone else's blood from when I shoved her down. She looks at the bodies, then at me, and the anger on her face sharpens into something personal.

She brushes white dust off her dress with furious slaps. "You threw me onto the ground."

I walk right past the dead man on the tiles. "Someone was trying to put a bullet through your skull, Nora. I keep you alive. That's the deal."

"You tackled me like a sack of dirt without a word of warning. I'm not a rag doll, Moretti." She points an angry finger at me, shaking with pure temper.

"You were in the open."