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“Nobody told me you were a fighter,” he growls, blocking the glass with his forearm. “And here I was going to go easy on you.” He reaches a hand between us and through my legs until he’s gripping my underwear and tugging until the weak fabric gives way. “Now, I’m going to make sure you can’t ever forget me.”
A scream rips from my throat, deep and guttural, as I try to stab him again, but he catches my wrist in his vice-like grip, twisting it mercilessly until I’m forced to release my improvised weapon.
Pain radiates through my body as his knee strikes my stomach, knocking the wind out of me and propelling me backward onto the couch. My head collides with the wall behind me, and for a moment, my vision blurs. But I refuse to surrender to the darkness, fighting to stay conscious. This fucker isn’t going to touch me again without a fight every step of the damn way.
My foot lashes out in a last-ditch effort to fend him off. However, he easily evades the blow, his focus solely on his own desires. He unfastens his pants, his intentions sickeningly clear. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he hisses, a malicious glint in his eyes.
Sick fucker should be castrated.
Using my fingernails, I claw at his face, leaving trails of crimson across his chin. “Good fucking luck enjoying anything,” I seethe, my voice filled with venom.
He retaliates, capturing my wrist once more and twisting it with brutal force until I’m forced to stop fighting or risk breaking a bone or two. Even as fear and pain threaten to consume and he comes closer, I refuse to give up. I have to keep fighting.
The bastard’s face is close enough to mine that his smoky breath fans over my face, making my stomach churn violently as he threatens me. “Touch me again like that and my dick will be the least of your worries, sweetheart.”
He raises an arm, likely to strike me again, but what I assume to be his phone in his front pocket vibrates just once and he mutters a curse under his breath.
His fingers grasp my chin, and he crashes his lips onto mine in a forceful, violating kiss. The taste of his vile presence lingers, marking me in a different way. “I’ll be seeing you soon, Olivia Danes.”
With a final threat hanging in the air, he retreats into the shadows, vanishing through the server’s door.
My body convulses, the aftermath of the ordeal threatening to consume me as any adrenaline I’d been pulling from escapes from every limb of my body. I can’t contain the tremors that take over. Not even when the main door slams into the wall and shouts enter the otherwise silent room.
“Olivia.” My name is more of a growl coming from Luca as his gaze searches the room before landing on me, battered and broken.
I don’t move. Hell, I can hardly breathe. When he stalks toward me, I shrink back, afraid of his wrath. Afraid that he’s going to blame me for whatever the fuck just happened…or almost happened.
His hand comes up, and I squeeze my eyes closed. “I’m sorry,” I say, tasting the saltiness from the tears I didn’t realize are sluicing down my cheeks.
“Justine,” Luca’s voice cuts through the air, his tone distant. “Get her out of here.”
I open my eyes to see Luca’s retreating back and a frantic Justine brushing past him, racing for me. “I’m so fucking sorry, Olivia.”
Her words unleash a torrent of emotions within me, and I curl inward, wrapping myself in the harsh reality that now engulfs my world.
I’ve seen a dead senator. Been shot at and kidnapped. People want me dead. And now…someone just came dangerously close to violating me in one of the worst ways possible.
I’m not safe.
Not with Luca. Not anywhere.
14
LUCA
My entire being is a pit of rage that I don’t know how to control. Olivia was mine to protect. Mine to keep safe. Mine to command. All fucking mine.
And I failed.
I couldn’t even offer her some semblance of comfort without her flinching away from me on that couch, all because I fucked up.
I took her from the one place I knew she would be safe, all because I’m a selfish bastard and wanted her to remain close while I claimed my victory over Titan Moretti.
Someone touched her. Marred her precious face. Put their hands where they weren’t welcome.
And that someone is going to fucking die.
It doesn’t matter that it’s been a full twenty-four hours since everything went to shit at the nightclub and I still don’t have hands on the man I now know to be named Abel—an old acquaintance of my father’s. He thinks he can hide from me, but he can only stay safe for so long.
