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Eyes stinging, I turned the bag upside down, but it was empty. Apparently I was expected to wear the dress without a bra or panties underneath.
It was violating.
My hands shook as I showered quickly and put the dress on, trying to tighten the straps to cover as much of myself as I could. I let my hair loose and brushed it over my shoulders to shelter my naked back, but there was nothing I could do about the rest.
I took in my reflection miserably. Riccardo wasn’t trying to humiliate me, I realized with a sinking sensation in my stomach. This wasn’t even about me. He was using my body to mock Lucien.
I bunched my fists. There were some moments in my life where, despite how much I loved my own husband, I found men to be so repellent it made me sick. This wasn’t the first time I’d been collateral in a pissing contest between my husband and another man. I hoped it would be the last.
At least this time, I knew Lucien would rescue me.
Whatever Riccardo was planning on doing with me today, I had no doubt that Lucien would keep me safe. He’d sworn it so many times with his words, with his hands, with his mouth, and his body. He’d vowed it with his lips and his actions.
I believed him to the core of my being. Lucien took his promises seriously. If he said he would protect me, barring death, he would come to my aid.
I dropped my shoulders, tilted my chin up, and straightened my spine.
I could be strong until then.
The silent woman appeared once more and this time she cuffed my hands before me. The house was stuffy, but somehow still cold as she led me barefoot down the hall and into the foyer. There, she slid a hood over my head and pulled it closed. The inside smelled faintly of antiseptic, like the sheets upstairs. I took a quick breath and fought the urge to panic.
Someone lifted me and carried me outside. Warm air brushed over my bare skin and lifted my hair from my face. I was sat down in a fabric seat and a car door slammed beside me. A firm, calloused grip kept hold of my upper arm, holding me in place as the vehicle lurched.
I lost track of time, muffled by the hood. My empty stomach roiled and sweat dripped down my spine. What little clothing I had on was soaked and itched in the heat.
The car ride went on forever until I felt the terrain below us change. Then my center of balance shifted and I could tell we were going up a hill. We pulled to a halt and there was a long silence. The car doors pulled open and the hood loosened, tearing from my head. I gasped, dragging in the clean air and trying to blink away the sweat dripping into my eyes.
I was in a van with gray seats and the doors were open to reveal a flat, rocky area and a treeline in the distance. Eyes watering in the bright light, I scanned my window of sight, trying to figure out where we were.
“Out.”
I jumped. Riccardo Mezzasalma appeared, still wearing his English suit. He had three, enormous men in black gear flanking him. They wore gleaming black guns over their shoulders and pistols at their belts. My stomach twisted. I struggled to my feet and moved to the edge of the van.
“Go on,” Riccardo ordered.
Trying not to lose my balance, I sank down and wriggled my feet over the edge and dropped. My body was weak, I was dizzy, and my hands were bound. I hit the ground and fell forward onto my knees. Pain shot up my thighs and I bit back a whimper. Riccardo jerked his head at me and one of the men hauled me upright and began fixing my hair and clothes.
His rough hands pawed at me, dragging over my sensitive skin. I glared at him, tensing my shoulders to keep him away from my breasts. His mouth curled in a smirk.
“Come,” Riccardo said shortly.
I glanced around. We were on a cliff face overlooking the river and the city was far away in the distance. The treeline to our left was thick and brushy, without an opening save for a trail wide enough to bring a car through. The ground was rocky with loose dirt like a desert, without covering except short, scrubby brush.
My feet smarted as we made it to the crest of the hill and paused. Riccardo settled his weight on one hip, flicking his wrist to check his watch. There was an air of mockery about his impatience. I gazed down at the river. Wondering why we needed to be right over the water.
All it would take was a single push and I would be dead.
In the distance sounded a low whine. Like an engine. Everyone shifted towards the woods and a growing sense of dread and excitement filled my chest as an SUV appeared through the scrub and trees.
It pulled to a halt a few dozen yards away and the engine cut. The side door opened and my heart began pounding like a drum when my husband stepped out. Without even realizing it, tears overflowed, falling silently down my cheeks as he lifted his hands palm up and stepped into the open field.
My God, he looked so good. His big, strong body was covered in a white t-shirt and tactical pants, pushed into short boots. His hair was messy, like he’d slicked it back after sleeping on it. The light glinted from the heavy cords of his muscled arms and the dark ink of tattoos down his forearms and hands.
He was unarmed.
“Lucien Esposito,” Riccardo called. “Come.”
He began advancing slowly, carefully on the sides of his boots. Like a panther moving towards a threat. As he drew close, his eyes shifted from Riccardo to me. Just for a brief moment.
