Bound By Love (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles 6)

“I wish that weren’t true,” I said quietly. My eyes were drawn to the entrance because the door opened.

I froze when I registered the tall man who entered the restaurant. Blond hair, cold eyes, dressed in a gray three-piece suit.

Val followed my gaze and she paled. “I didn’t tell him anything, Aria. I would never—”

He stopped beside our booth. Dante Cavallaro.

“She didn’t,” he confirmed in a dangerous voice that sent a shiver down my spine. He leveled his cold blue eyes on Val. “But in a time like this, I won’t let you go anywhere without my knowledge.”

“You tracked me,” she said, staring down at her mobile lying flat on the table.

“That, yes, and Enzo recognized a familiar face this morning during your brunch with Bibiana but he wasn’t sure, and when he sent me a photo of Aria and I told him to grab her, she had already disappeared.”

Enzo had managed to take a photo of me? God, I was an idiot. Dante startled me when he slid into my booth, not Val’s. I was forced to scoot to the side to give him room to sit down. That way he was barring my escape route. My heart rate doubled.

Val’s eyes widened, and worry filled her face. Worry for me.

“Dante,” she said in a placating voice.

“Go outside. Two of my men are waiting for you. They will take you home.”

“Dante,” she tried again.

“Valentina,” he said sharply, and the look he sent her made me shiver. I rested my shaking hands in my lap.

She rose slowly, eyes apologetic as they settled on me.

“Thank you, Val, for coming here,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm but failing miserably.

She nodded, then turned and left.

Dante angled his body toward me. I met his gaze, trying to hide that he scared me but despite how good of an actress I had become, I knew he could see right through me. His own face gave nothing away. Could I hope for mercy? For compassion? But I knew the answer to that question. Dante ruled over the Outfit. He was like Luca in so many regards.

“I will call the waiter over now and pay for dinner. We will get up together, you will stay at my side, and we will go to my car and you will get in,” he said in an emotionless voice, his eyes holding a clear warning.

I swallowed, and nodded. Because it was all I could do. It wasn’t as if I really had a choice. I forced a smile when the waiter came over. Dante paid and got up. He picked up my coat that I had thrown over the backrest and held it out for me, his face a mask of politeness. His eyes told a different story.

I stood and let him help me into my coat. I trembled when his hands touched my shoulders and he leaned closer, his mouth next to my ear. “Don’t try to run or do anything stupid, Aria. I’d hate having to hurt you.”

I gave another jerky nod and he let go of my shoulders, then he grabbed my hand. I tensed even more but followed him outside and toward his Mercedes. He opened the passenger door for me, his gaze searching our surroundings as I slipped in. When he shut the door, I drew in a shaky breath. My heart was beating frantically in my chest. We were at war. War.

And I was the wife of the Capo, and had let myself get captured by the Outfit.

Don’t panic.

Chicago was my home once. Dante’s known me all my life.

Dante wasn’t known for hurting women, but what if he used me as leverage? A strong wave of nausea washed over me, and it took all of my willpower to force it down.

Dante got behind the steering wheel and pulled the car onto the street. “I assume you are alone.” He was focused on traffic but I knew he was aware of my every move.

“I am,” I said.

“You shouldn’t have come to Chicago,” he said as he checked the rearview mirror as if he expected someone to follow us. I feared he was right. Luca had been right. I acted without thinking when my siblings were concerned.

Eventually, Dante swerved the car to the side, startling me, and hit the brakes. We were in a deserted area near tracks. He didn’t say anything. I closed my eyes. This was a place where nobody would hear me scream, a place where bodies could be disposed of.

My fingers on my knees tightened as I remembered the knife, which I’d bought this afternoon, in my bag. A bag that was between my feet in the legroom. But for me to get to it I would have to lean down and unzip the purse. And for me to get out of this car alive after pulling a knife on Dante, I’d need a miracle.