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The slap was so sudden, and so shocking, I didn’t have a chance to brace.
The pain exploded in my cheekbone, snapping my head back. I slammed into the floor, rapping my elbow on the hard wood as I attempted to break my fall.
‘You think?’ Brutus said, the casualness of his brutality shocking me almost as much as the pain now ricocheting through my tired body as he stood over me.
I tried to slap his hands away as he grabbed my hair again, but my movements were jerky and uncoordinated, my mind entering another dimension of shock and loss and terror as he lifted me off the ground.
‘Let’s see how high and mighty you are once you realise what the alternative is,’ he said, the calm, conversational tone striking terror into my heart.
I kicked out at him and he hit me again. Even prepared for the pain this time, the slap exploded on my cheek and released the scream I had tried to keep locked in my throat. The buzzing in my head became louder, like whirring blades.
Swish, swish, swish. As if a helicopter were landing in the library. I thought of Dante, his eyes burning into mine, telling me he wanted me.
I could hear Jude’s crying, the door rattling.
‘Edie, Edie, open the door. What’s happening in there?’
My dazed mind realised that Brutus had locked it when we came in here—to discuss our latest payment. The fear became huge. I kicked at his shins and he let me go. I stumbled and fell, then scrambled up, trying to run, trying to hide from those cruel fists. But the room was bare—where could I go?
I heard shouting outside, a deep voice I recognised.
He’s not here... No one can save you but yourself.
‘Come here.’ Brutus grabbed me again, strong fingers digging into my arm hard enough to bruise.
An almighty crash startled us both. I watched the door smash inwards and fly off its hinges.
Dante Allegri strode into the room like an avenging angel, followed by his casino manager. My mind whirred like the blades of that imaginary helicopter.
Not imaginary—had Dante come to save me?
‘Call the police, Joe,’ he shouted, reaching us in a few strides.
You’re dreaming. It’s not him. Why would he come to save you?
Brutus’ bruising fingers released me.
‘Who the—?’ The words cut off as Dante’s fist connected with the henchman’s jaw. Brutus’s big body folded in on itself in slow motion.
I watched him drag himself up as Dante approached him. Then, like all bullies, he raced out of the door, shoving past Joseph Donnelly and my sister.
I skittered back, crouched on the floor now, as I watched my attacker run. His footfalls echoed in my aching head—which had been stuffed full of cotton wool.
Was this really happening or was I imagining it all?
The brief jolt of euphoria turned to turmoil. A part of me knew I was in shock. But as Dante walked back towards me, flexing his fingers, the knuckles bleeding, the full import of what had happened smacked into me. The fear, the confusion, the panic cracked open like an earthquake inside me. Until all that was left was the pain.
I wrapped my arms around my knees, my whole body trembling so violently I was scared I might shake myself apart.
He knelt down, that handsome face so close to me I could smell him—spicy cologne and cedar soap and man. But still I didn’t believe it. Why was he here? Why had he saved me? And then I remembered. I owed him a million euros.
‘Bella,’ he murmured as gentle fingers touched my cheek.
I flinched, tears leaking out of my eyes. Tears I knew I shouldn’t shed. Because they were tears of self-pity.
Jude appeared by my side. ‘Edie...he hit you? That bastard...’
I flinched again as she cried, her sobbing making the pain in my head and my heart so much worse. I pressed my bruised face into my knees. I didn’t want Dante to see me like this. Brutalised and terrified and unable to defend myself. I was so ashamed.
