The Devil I Hate (Devil's Knights 1)

“Is that what you want, princess?” Marcello placed his palms on the table and leaned closer. “You want me to punish you with my cock?”

Fucking hell.

I cleared my throat. “Yes.”

Anything to get back at Luca for what he stole from me.

Interrupting our conversation, the flight attendant reappeared with a glass of amber liquid in her hand. She shook her big tits in his face as she set the glass on the table, looking at me with her nose turned up.

“We have a bottle of Cheval Blanc from Mr. Salvatore’s private collection. But I’m afraid I can’t open it without his permission.”

I glanced across the table at Marcello.

“She’s referring to my father.”

I flashed a smile at him. “Well, he’s not here. So, that makes you the boss. Can I have a glass of your dad’s fancy wine?”

“You’re not supposed to drink with your medicine.”

Low blow.

“The last time I checked, you’re not a medical doctor.”

He studied my face, then said to the flight attendant, “Open it.”

She left without further instruction.

“If you think you’re going to boss me around—”

He held out his hand to silence me. “From here on out, when I tell you to do something, you need to listen to me. It’s for your protection.”

“So bossy, Marcello.” I rubbed my lips together, smiling at him with my eyes. “You gonna spank me if I get out of line?”

I hope so.

Running a hand through his messy hair, he sighed. “Keep this up, Alex…” He let his words hang in the air, making me wonder what he was going to say.

“Finish that thought.”

He ignored me, sinking back against the leather chair. His cell phone dinged, and he removed it from his pocket. Scanning the screen, his eyes lifted to look at me, then back on his phone. His fingers glided across the keypad, and he hit send.

“If you’re going to talk about me, you can at least say it to my face.”

He rolled his eyes, our moment of almost sexy times quickly fading. Just like that, he was back to being an asshole. Luca had his moments, too. They were few and fleeting.

“When can I shower?”

No answer.

I shook the plaster from my hair onto the table, which earned me a sneer in response. After hours of standing on a scaffolding ladder with my arms above my head, working on a fresco, my muscles ached, my hair was a mess, and my clothes smelled like chemicals.

He glanced out the window, but it was too dark to see anything. “When we’re at a safe altitude, you can shower.”

“Tell me something, Marcello. Have you been following me for the last few weeks?”

He shook his head.

A pang of anxiety washed over me, his admission setting off every warning signal in my head. You are in danger. Someone was watching me, following me everywhere I went. And it wasn’t the Salvatores.

“Then who was it?”

“Have you considered it was all in your mind?”

Yes. Every single day.

My team of psychiatrists at Haven Asylum had explained how delusions worked. Anything could trigger a flashback or even a false memory. The sound of a car backfiring or even the smell of the sea could take me out of the present, transporting me back to the past.

Most days, I wasn’t sure if I could trust myself. Were my memories real or implanted? It was a horrible feeling, unable to tell the difference between fact and fiction. My doctor said it was up to me to uncover the truth about what happened to Aiden. The answers rested somewhere in my brain, but I couldn’t unlock the memories. They were too painful, traumatic, and the more I pushed myself, the worse it would get.

I’d gone through at least ten different medications. Some of them had turned me into a fucking zombie, which made it impossible to remember anything. Others sucked the energy from my body like a vampire. The only medicine that worked turned me into a horny bitch. I hadn’t been this close to a man who oozed sex appeal by the truckload since I’d left Devil’s Creek. And sitting across from Marcello was doing naughty things between my thighs.

I rested my elbows on the table and looked at him. “Will my grandfather meet us at the airport?”

He sipped his scotch. “You talk too much.”

“I’m just trying to make conversation with my kidnapper.”

“I didn’t kidnap you, Alex.”

“Kinda feels like you did.”

“After this, we’re taking a helicopter to my estate,” he said as he placed the snifter on the table. “Your grandfather will meet us there.”

The flight attendant handed me a glass of red wine with her eyes fixed on Marcello. “Can I get you anything else, Mr. Salvatore?”

He shook his head without an ounce of emotion on his face. She flashed a smile he didn’t return, then walked down the aisle toward the cockpit.

“In all the years I have known you,” I said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile. Why are you so sad, Marcello?”