Bought: Destitute Yet Defiant

Turning back to her, he saw that she was shivering under his coat, but he knew there was little he could do about that. Even though she sold her favours to men, he knew instinctively that if he touched her now he’d risk adding another bruise to the one already developing on the right side of his face.

It had come as no surprise that she knew how to punch.

He’d taught her.

She undid the last bolt and pushed open the door. ‘There. Home, sweet home. You can go now. Thanks for the ride.’

‘I’m not going anywhere.’ They were a sitting target in the dimly lit walkway and he wasn’t leaving her there.

Silvio glanced back at the gleaming paint of his black Ferrari, the car as visible and out of place as an alien spaceship in a children’s playground.

‘If you’re worried about your toy, Silvio, just go and play with it,’ she said tartly, gasping as he yanked her back and stepped in front of her. ‘What are you doing? I’m not inviting you in for coffee if that’s what you’re hoping. You had one kiss for free. That’s all you’re getting.’ The bravado hid an ocean of fear and Silvio wondered how long it would take her to admit that she was scared.

‘That kiss saved your life.’ Even it had been at the expense of his own mental stability.

Taking what he assumed to be a last look at his car, Silvio went into the flat first, knowing exactly what he would find.

Much of his childhood had been spent in places exactly like this—bars at the window, locks on the door and a board hammered over the letter box because whatever anyone wanted to post through your door, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be a letter.

Being back here was harder than he was prepared to admit, even to himself.

It was dank and small and it took him less than five seconds to reassure himself that no one was inside.

Closing the blinds and securing the front door, he turned with a growl. ‘You shouldn’t be living on the ground floor.’ The moment the words left his mouth he could have bitten his tongue because he of all people should have known why she’d chosen this position.

He pressed his fingers to his temples, tasting regret. Sensitive words didn’t come easily to him but he was fairly sure he could have done better than that if he hadn’t been distracted.

Anticipating her reaction, he cast her a look and she looked straight back at him, her eyes dark pools of defiance.

‘What? If you’re waiting for me to crumble, Silvio, you’re going to be waiting a long time. I’m tough as nails.’

Silvio shook his head in disbelief, not knowing whether to laugh or strangle her. ‘There isn’t time for you to crumble,’ he said evenly. ‘You’ve got five minutes to pack anything that’s important to you. Then we’re leaving.’ A flash of gold dress and creamy skin knocked the words out of his brain and he looked away quickly. The fact that he needed to do so told him just how close to the edge he was.

On reflection, he wished he’d found another way to secure her safety other than by kissing her.

Never before in his life had he had such a slippery grip on control and he knew that if he saw her in that outrageously sexy dress he’d start thinking of all those men looking at her…

How many of them had had their hands on her?

And why had he waited three years to come looking for her? Why had he thought she’d be better without him in her life?

Apparently unaware of his torment, she reached into a cupboard. The coat slipped from her shoulders and the movement of her body gave him a flash of suspender belt. And something else.

With a soft curse Silvio stepped forward and stuck his hand up her dress, ignoring her outraged gasp. He stepped back with the knife in his hand, his mood so dangerous that he didn’t trust himself to be close to her.

‘Maledezione, what is this?’

‘It’s a knife.’ Her gaze challenged him. ‘You should know—it isn’t as if you haven’t seen one before.’

‘You shouldn’t be carrying this.’ His fingers toyed with the blade, the glint of metal winking at him mockingly. ‘If I hadn’t turned up when I did…’

‘I would have used it if I had to.’

Thinking about what would have happened if she’d produced a knife sent ice through his veins.

He’d almost lost her.

A chorus of vicious barking from outside the flat reminded him that they had no time for reflection or recrimination and Silvio slipped the knife into his pocket and retrieved his coat from the floor.