He had all of Franco's dark, sharp features. The prominent nose, the powerful jawline. The sharp, discerning dark eyes.
And yet, he had none of the qualities that made Franco approachable. The curve of Franco's cheekbones was replaced by a severe jagged line. His strong brow was set in fierce determination.
And anger.
Dominic.
Her heart flipped over in her chest, and though she tried to speak, all her words came out in inaudible whispers.
"Hello, mi amor." His voice had always been deeper than his brother's. Back then, she'd thought it was a mark of masculinity. Now, though, she knew better.
It was predatory.
"One hundred yards." She finally managed, and though the words were shaky-sounding at best, she knew he'd heard her.
"You won't say hello to me after all this time? After all the money I've spent on you?"
"I didn't ask--didn't want--"
"You never knew what you wanted. But please, be calm. I'm not here to hurt you. I only want to see you. It's been so long." His free hand tucked under her chin and turned her to him, and she felt as though she were a robot made with rusty hinges, creaking along with the movement, reluctant but obedient.
If she could only turn away. If she could meet Brook's gaze, he'd know. He'd realize she was in trouble and he'd be by her side in a heartbeat. She just had to find a way to tell him.
"My brother isn't speaking to me because of you." Dominic's voice was silky as always, softly insistent. She knew better than to respond.
"My mother, too, says she's ashamed of me." He stared at her, clearly waiting for a response. Again, though, she remained silent.
Couldn't the people around them see what was happening? Couldn't they tell that someone--anyone--needed to step in?
But no, from every direction, all she could see were people laughing and chatting, nobody paying the slightest bit of attention to the danger nearby.
"You don't have anything to say? No apology?"
Her eyes widened, and she instantly sensed her mistake.
He glared at her, only for a second, and then his features smoothed and he nodded. "You think I deserve it."
She shook her head. What she thought wasn't important. She just had to get out. Get back. Find Brooks.
Where was Brooks?
Why hadn't he come to find her?
"I did some terrible things, Natalie. You might be right. But I'm better now. You've read my notes." It was a question, she knew, but if she stayed quiet—
His grip tightened on her arm and he dragged her closer still. So close that she could smell his cologne—spice and sandalwood and money.
A wave of nausea rolled over her at the scent.
She couldn't take it anymore. There'd be no safe escape for her here. She just had to break for it.
She squatted low as quickly as she could, trying to break his grip on her, then ran for it, but he caught her wrist and held it with both his hands, pulling her back in so sharply that she smashed into his chest.
'You know better than that—" He started, staring deep into her eyes.
This was how it started.
How it had always started.