Page 27

Chastened and unsure, I watched him continue to tear pieces off the warm brioche and dip it in the cold granita, aware I was still humming from the orgasms he’d given me as soon as we’d woken up.

The sex still overwhelmed me… We made love constantly, with an enthusiasm that hadn’t dimmed in the past week, even though I was becoming increasingly frustrated with the way he dismissed my questions about my captivity.

Although I felt totally safe now with him, his moods remained impenetrable. And then, of course, there was his refusal to let me contact Mia.

I’d tried to reason with him, numerous times. Tried to make him understand. But he’d refused to listen. And he still left me alone for much of the day in the suite.

I wasn’t the strong, silent type like he was. I still remembered how tough it had been for me when Mia and I were kids and our mum had disappeared. Not telling anyone—because Mia had insisted we needed to keep it a secret to stop the authorities from separating us—had been the hardest thing I’d ever had to do.

Until I’d had to deal with Dante.

A lot of those old insecurities had returned because—duh—I was the captive of a Mafia boss at war with my brother-in-law. What was more screwed-up, though, was that the only person I could talk to about my situation was him. And despite him being the cause of all my worry, I had come to trust him… Not just that he wouldn’t hurt me, but that he would protect me.

My campaign to make him see me as a person, not a possession, had had some successes over the past week. Successes that made me sure he wasn’t as ruthless as he pretended to be. I’d even got him to relax some of the rules of my captivity.

After much begging and pestering, he’d allowed me to leave the suite each morning for a run—although he’d insisted that I had to have two bodyguards with me, who clearly thought the whole endeavour was completely nuts. I’d got into the habit of running regularly to work off any excess energy on Vito’s island whenever I stayed there. And while I was getting a lot of physical activity in Dante’s bed…like, seriously, a lot…because he made love to me every morning and every evening when he returned—and even woke me during the night sometimes—and I relished every second of those encounters, I had missed being out in nature. That he had allowed me this small indulgence, for an hour each day after breakfast, had felt huge—especially as I suspected he didn’t understand why I liked to run any more than his guards, and he didn’t want me away from the main house.

Those precious runs had become essential for my mental health, plus I had discovered that Cala Verde was a beautiful island.

Covered in lemon and olive groves already starting to bud, the island also had a long empty beach on one side. The rocky terrain was more barren than Isla Donna and less developed away from the main compound and Dante’s palatial villa. But after several days of rain, the weather had got warmer, even though it was only February—and having the sunlight on my skin was something else I’d come to look forward to during my mornings out of the suite.

But even getting the chance to run every day, and all the sex, not to mention my growing curiosity about Dante himself—who fascinated me, maybe more than he should, given I hadn’t been able to prise a single piece of information about his past out of him—still wasn’t enough to distract me from my growing concern for my sister.

I had to talk to Mia. I needed her to know I was OK. More than OK, I thought as the familiar blush burned my cheeks. The guilt pressed against my chest. Because the truth was, after the past week with Dante, I was becoming almost ambivalent about the prospect of being ‘rescued’.

When was Dante going to contact Vito? Had he contacted him already? Were they negotiating my release? Mia’s due date was at the end of next week and I hated the thought of her worrying about me—the way she’d had to throughout our childhood, even before our mum had skipped out on us—when she should be focused on the birth of her baby.

I’d explained all this to Dante countless times, and he’d either become surly and dismissive or distracted me with sex. I already knew he could be a moody bastard. But I’d spotted a quirk on his lips or a muscle twitching in his jaw, which suggested he was holding back a smile—when I was being particularly chatty—and the frustration now when I made a request he did not want to grant.

In the past week, though, I’d become more determined to crack the shield of indifference he used whenever I tried to make him understand how much letting Mia know I was OK meant to me.

‘Please, Dante, I have to talk to her…’

He glanced up from his breakfast again. And the frown returned. ‘I have told you no.’

Frustration and guilt and humiliation made my throat close with angry tears.

‘I don’t care.’ I sprang up to slam my palms on the table, making the cutlery jump. ‘She’s my sister and I love her. I have to call her,’ I said, refusing to let him dismiss me again. ‘She needs to know you haven’t hurt me. She’ll be worried sick about me and she’s about to have a baby…’ Tears formed as I lost my grip on the anguish I’d held onto for days, so I wouldn’t push him too far. Why had I been so cautious, so careful, when all it did was allow him to dismiss my feelings?

‘Fermati, Eva,’ he said sternly, standing too. ‘Or I will give you something better to do.’

He banded one arm around my bottom and his familiar response rose against my belly, triggering the melting sensation in my core, which I knew he used to silence me whenever I said or did something he didn’t like.

He pressed his lips to the pulse point in my neck and hooked my leg around his waist, rubbing the growing erection against my core through our clothing.

Sensation throbbed, the burst of arousal instant and unstoppable. But my anguish was stronger. I braced my palms against his chest and shoved him away.

He stumbled back, an astonished expression on his face.

‘No,’ I said, swiping the tears from my eyes, the guilt immense now, alongside the anger. ‘We’re not making love again until I talk to my sister.’

His astonishment turned to the glitter of anger, the chilly look in his eyes something I hadn’t seen in days.

‘Behave, Eva,’ he commanded, words I had come to hate.

But when he attempted to grasp my elbow, I yanked it free and took another step away from him.

‘No, I won’t,’ I said, wiping more tears away with my fist.