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I sit back on the bed while he hovers; I don’t think he actually knows what to do with me.
I made one hell of a noise when he carried me out of the warehouse. In my defense, the drugs they used were still wearing off, but regardless, how could anyone blame me when a dozen men came barging their way into the building! I didn’t know who the hell they were.
I could only think the worst.
If my uncle thinks the Medicis have anything to do with this, it will start an all-out war, one that will cause bloodshed on both sides, so I’ll hold that card under my sleeve for the moment.
I glance at Marco; he’s waiting for me to say something.
“You must have caught me on a good day.” I shrug. I’m all sass, and I have nowhere to go with it, that’s for sure. And I desperately want the food in that bowl.
Double fuck.
“A good day?” he balks, shaking his head. “You know, most hostages freed from an impossible situation like the one you were in, would be more than happy to be rescued and set free and be fed Nonna’s spaghetti. They might even be grateful for it, too.”
That’s debatable.
“Well, it’s been a rough day,” I conclude, because I can’t think of anything else viable to say without inflicting violence. “But, I am glad to be out of that stinking place despite my grievances.”That’s the understatement of the year.
He shakes his head in disbelief. “Would a thank you be too much?”
My eyes flick up to his. I know without a doubt that this mafia man doesn’t know which way to take me. Good, I hope to keep it that way until I figure out what I’m going to do next.
“I just did, didn’t I?”
“You said you were glad to be out of that stinking place. It hardly sounds like a thanks for saving your life, now does it?”
“What, are you going to send me back there because I’mnot behaving how you want?”
His eyes flash, and I know he’s holding his tongue. I don’t know why; he could unleash the devil and really put me in my place, and there isn’t much I could do about it.
Instead of throwing a retort back at me though, he turns to leave. Before doing so, he picks the bowl back up.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s enjoying this.
I want that fucking food!
“Wait,” I holler. “Look ….”
He turns to look at me. “You know fucking what, Miss Petrov?” he interrupts before I get the words out. “It’s been a long fucking day for me too, and I don’t need to stand here and put up with this shit. I haven’t eaten or slept in forty-eight hours. I just dragged your ass out of a shipping container bound for a Middle Eastern sex ring, missed a very important meeting to do so, and I have a delectable and very expensive glass of red wine waiting for me in the kitchen with the food my mother just prepared … so if you’ll excuse me.”
“Marco …” I hold his gaze as he stops. There goes that eyebrow again… “Thank you,okay,for rescuing me.”
He regards me coolly. It turns my insides upside down. “See, that wasn't that hard, was it?”
Knowing what I want, he leaves the bowl on the bedside table next to me.
Before he even turns to leave, I reach forward, taking the food hurriedly and swirling some pasta on the fork, shoving it into my mouth.
It tastes like heaven. I literally feel as though I’ve parted ways with earth and am floating somewhere in bliss. It’s been over a week since I tasted proper food.
“Wow.” I see his lips twitch. “It’s delicious,” I concede.
He nods. Of course, he already knows this and probably eats like a king every day of his life.
“Better?” His eyes drop to my lips as I gobble the food like a starving woman.
“Yes.”
