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I’m barely able to get a word in before two of the men step forward and grab each of my elbows, both giving me looks that say not to test them. So, I go quietly. I’m not about to make a scene in the middle of the airport. Christian and his brother stay back, probably to deal with the consequences of my trying to board an international flight with a fake identity.
The men deposit me inside a silver and blue Range Rover, with clear instructions to wait till their boss returns.
My hands intertwine as I try to take even breaths. They might very well be my last ones on this earth. Because I’m pretty sure that cold-hearted bastard is going to kill me for this.
CHAPTER4
Christian
“Ihate to be the person to point this out,fratello,” Carlo says, “but you’ve got a problem on your hands.”
My jaw clenches as I look toward my car, the three men standing around it, and the infuriating woman sitting in the passenger seat.
“She showed up wearing a fucking blonde wig,” I mutter. “Topher was right. She’s fucking crazy.”
I might not have had an accurate description of my fiancée in my head, but I could conjure up enough of an image to remember that Daniella Evans is a redhead. The woman I had my men escort to my car was wearing an ashy blonde wig. I’m guessing the wig was a part of her disguise, but I can’t for the life of me understand how she thought she would ever pull off leaving the United States borders with a fake identity.
“She’s young,” Carlo offers. “I’m sure she’ll eventually learn to fall in line.”
I sigh softly. Judging by the five minutes I spent in her presence earlier, I highly doubt that. Carlo walks behind me as we head over to the car. I nod once, directing them to the other car while I drive mine. The guards disperse immediately while I open my car door.
She’s glaring at me. The action seems almost impossible and wrong. No one has had the balls to glare at me since I was twenty years old. It just doesn’t happen. I force myself to remain calm as I enter the car. She doesn’t say a word to me and neither do I. We continue the drive in silence. I glance at her occasionally. Judging by the glimpses of her personality I’ve gotten so far, she doesn’t seem like the quiet type.
Her arms are folded on her lap and she’s staring forward without moving an inch. I’ll admit I hadn’t been expecting her to be so beautiful—intelligent ocean-blue eyes and a bone structure that no amount of money could buy. She’s wearing black leggings and a cream sweater, a comfortable outfit except for the three-inch heels at her feet.
Under normal circumstances, I might have been intrigued by Daniella. It’s pretty clear she’s not a normal society heiress. And she’s incredibly gorgeous, but no amount of beauty is erasing her stunt today—or the fact that we’ll have to spend the rest of our lives together.
Ten minutes pass before she finally speaks up.
“Are you taking me home?”
“No.”
Her stare burns a hole into my cheek as I keep my gaze straight forward and on the road.
“What do you mean, no?”
“I’m taking you to my home, Ms. Evans. You’ve made it abundantly clear that you require a lot more supervision than your father provides.”
She scoffs lightly. “You realize I’m not five years old, right?”
I glance over at her, my eyes trailing over her face and down to her body before returning to her face.
“Trust me, Ms. Evans. I’m aware,” I state.
Her blue eyes narrow. “Why are you talking so properly? It’s the opposite of how I expected you to talk to me.”
“How did you expect me to talk?”
“Aren’t you the head of a gang?”
My head tilts a little to the side, my attention returned to the road.
“No. I’m the Don of a mafia organization,” I tell her.
“You sure do sound proud of that,” she mutters. I raise my eyebrow in question but she’s already moving on. “Regardless, you’re acting extremely formal and a little stuck-up. I was expecting crass words and rude manners.”
“That’s not me.”
