A low buzzing rang through my ears, and my vision swam as my head began pounding even harder. I touched my temple, and my fingers came away crimson. Damn, that hurt almost as much as the bullet in my leg. As the last dregs of adrenaline ebbed, my body became nothing but pain. When I blinked, it was in an effort to open my eyes again.
“Emilia?” Giovanni’s voice sounded distant, like it was coming through a tunnel. He spat a curse as black spots danced in front of me.
And then everything went black.
4
Emilia
I woke in the front seat of a car with someone shaking me. The first thing I noticed was it was dark, an amber light cutting through the windows and casting shadows over the concrete walls of the parking garage beyond. A foggy layer of confusion clung to me as I tried to figure out where I was and how I had gotten here. My gaze shifted to the person sitting behind the wheel of the parked vehicle. Giovanni Guerra. The sleeves of his black dress shirt were rolled up, revealing tattooed forearms, the intricate ink work seeming to swirl and shift with my hazy vision.
“Where am I?” I asked, my tongue thick in my mouth.
He didn’t answer, and as the fog slowly cleared, the last few hours rushed in. The blood… The motel room…
“Renzo—”
“I would worry about yourself, princess.” His voice was a low rumble of warning, a precursor of what was to come.
I had run, he had caught me, and the consequences were sure to be dire. But all I could think about was my brother. The last time I’d seen him, he was bleeding out. My own fate was as doomed as it had always been, but I never had wanted to drag Renzo with me.
Giovanni got out of the car and rounded the hood, shrugging on his suit jacket before pulling open my door. I had no idea what awaited me out there, but I knew he would drag me out if I didn’t go willingly.
I swung my legs over the edge of the seat, noticing then the man’s shirt that drowned me and the gaping leg of my jeans that had been cut open, my thigh bandaged. Giovanni gave me no space, his broad frame blocking my view beyond him, as though he were trying to prove that I’d never reach the big, wide world ever again. And I didn’t doubt he thought that was the case. The iciness in his gaze combined with his bloody reputation made Giovanni Guerra terrifying. Only a crazy person would risk inciting that dangerous attention. I vowed then and there that I would escape him, but if he had Renzo…
“Please. Just tell me…is my brother alive?”
His silence was my only answer, and my temper spiked. He had me. He’d won. The least he could do was just tell me if I’d cost my brother his life for nothing.
My teeth clenched. “If he dies—”
“You’ll what, princess?” He laughed, a cruel, cutting sound that echoed off the concrete walls of the parking garage. “The Outfit can’t and won’t stand against me. So, there is absolutely nothing you can or will do but submit.”
The feeling of helplessness that washed over me with his words was debilitating, and I knew he was right. I was on my own. I never should have run, definitely shouldn’t have let Renzo run with me. And now…now there was nothing I could do. It had changed nothing. I was still here, still my uncle’s pawn. Only now, Renzo was… I cut off the thought. He couldn’t be dead.
Giovanni gripped my arm and yanked me out of the car, tugging me flush against him. Pain shot up my leg as I bared weight on it, and I gritted my teeth, my gaze drifting past him and marking the exits.
“Don’t do anything stupid. I’d hate to have to put another scar on your body.”
“Of course.” I glared at him, fruitlessly trying to pull away. “Couldn’t have a scarred trophy wife.” Acid dripped from my tone, and I hoped he felt my hatred. If I couldn’t find a way to escape, then I might have to marry this man, but he would be under no illusion as to just how much he disgusted me.
He dragged me across the parking lot to a waiting elevator, and I was shoved inside so hard that I stumbled against the metal wall. He was right there, invading my space, the woodsy, minty smell of him washing over me. He was so close I could see the tiny flecks of gold in his sapphire irises, feel the heat of him seeping through the material of my shirt. He was beautiful. The thought was an unwanted one but no less true.
His face was perfection, his body honed, broad shoulders straining against the veil of civility that suit jacket was trying to portray. No suit could hide what he was, though—a weapon, a monster. A hand landed beside my head, caging me in just like the captive I was. Hot breath washed over my neck as he brought his lips to my ear, and I closed my eyes, trembling against the elevator wall. Fear and something foreign and unwanted slid through my veins like a drug, and I couldn’t help but revel in the high of it for just a moment.