His: Tony (The Sabatini Family 2)

The police officer walks me to the man.

“Thank you, Ted. Mr. Sabatini appreciates your assistance. We won't forget this.” The man takes my arm, his touch surprisingly gentle. I dare to try and inch away, and the hold tightens instantly.

“You're welcome, sir. Anything Mr. Sabatini needs. I'm alwa

ys available anytime, day or night.” With a touch of his cap, he’s going back to his car.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. All I can do is freak out. As the cruiser pulls away, three men pour out of the SUV. I don’t recognize any of them. The guy from the building nods to one of them.

“Her keys are still in the car. You and Carmine drive it to the garage back at the building. You need to stay and cover for me on security. Me and Vito are taking her back to Tony’s place. Tony says we aren’t to leave until he’s home again.”

Two men nod and go to my car. The guy from the building turns me around and removes the handcuffs. I sigh with relief. But he’s just bringing my hands around to the front and doing them up again. Fucker.

His hand around my arm, he walks me to the backseat. He opens the door and lifts me up, setting me down in the backseat. The other guy gets into the front seat. I’m barely in before he fastens my seatbelt. I blink, and he’s closed the door.

I can't believe this is happening. I'd been so close. Why did Tony send his men after me? Does he know I want to kill him? That has to be it. The man is too gorgeous to go chasing after a woman who doesn’t want him when he could get a dozen women prettier than me any day of the week.

It takes almost a half hour to get to Tony's house. In that entire time, neither of them says a word, not to me or each other. I'm a little surprised by how normal and pretty Tony's house is. It's a large two-story, four-square home. The red brick and black trim scream it was built in the early 1920s. There is a large front porch with a swing on one side of the wooden door. On the other side are two chairs with a table in front of it. A black wrought-iron gate surrounds the home. Pulling into a wide driveway, I see it leads back to a beautiful carriage house that mimics the main house.

The man parks, gets out, and opens the door for me. For a solid thirty seconds, I don’t move, just stare at him. He doesn't say anything either, just waits. The other man is already in the house. Glancing around, there is no way I can get away. He’s too big and he knows this area, and oh yeah, that’s my purse in his huge hand. With a sigh, I slide out of the backseat.

He takes me by the arm and leads me in front of him. The gate to Tony's home is open from the other guy going inside already. In the house, he closes the door and sets an alarm.

All around me, I hear classical music coming out of hidden speakers. It’s loud enough to be heard yet not so loud you couldn’t speak over it easily. As I look around, I'm once again surprised by Tony's home.

Beautiful oak hardwood runs throughout. There is wood around the doors, and the stairs are a mix oak and burnished walnut I long to run my hand over. Stained glass is in every room I see. On one side is a formal living room with classic yet comfortable-looking furniture. On the other is an office with a fireplace, a large oak desk, and a row of books along a wall. He has an actual library—every wall is filled with books. It also has oversized leather furniture and another fireplace. A large formal dining room appears to seat sixteen, and I double blink at the dramatic crystal chandelier that glitters above it.

The man guides me up the stairs, his hand firm around my arm. I’m led into a large room with a four-poster, king-sized bed. The wallpaper is white with yellow and red roses in a raised velvet. There is a large flat-screen TV on one wall, and a large standing dresser against another wall. I sag as I recognize the print on one wall—it’s the same print of Summertime by Cassatt I had in my bedroom.

I’m pulled out of wondering about Tony Sabatini having the same print by the guy finally talking. “Do you want me to tie you to the bed, or do you want me to tie you to the chair?”

“How about you don’t tie me to anything? If you aren’t going to uncuff me, then you aren’t tying me to anything.”

He sighs. “Mr. Sabatini’s orders are that you stay here until he comes back to see you. I'm gonna warn you right now. Those two windows, they don't open, and neither does the window in the bathroom. If you try and mess with the windows, it'll set off the alarm and you'll piss me off. And you'll piss off Mr. Sabatini. Trust me. You don't want to piss off, Mr. Sabatini. Me and Vito are going to be downstairs. See that in the corner? It’s a camera not an air freshener. We’ll have access to it until he gets here. But he has access to the camera from anywhere he is. He’ll see everything you do.”

Leaning down, he scares me when he lifts my leg up. I have to put my hands on the bed to keep from falling over as he takes off one shoe then another. What the hell? Without another word, he turns and leaves, taking my shoes with him.

Seriously, no shoes? Then I consider how far a person would get shoeless on the streets of Chicago. These assholes aren’t as stupid as they look. I hear him lock me in as I study the camera in the corner. Fuck.

Unable to simply sit and wait, out of curiosity, I open one of the two doors in the room. It’s a huge walk-in closet. It’s the kind of closet that has an island in it and my clothes wouldn’t make a dent in here. There is no window in here or way out at all. It’s bare, without even a hanger in it. I’m impressed there isn’t a speck of dust in it though.

Out of the closet, I open the other door and find a bathroom I can’t hold in a sigh over. I’m a sucker for a beautiful bathroom. The entire room is done in marble. It should be cold. It’s not. There is a huge wet room that could fit six people with a waterfall shower head, two rows of jets, and a removable showerhead. I long to sink into the massive, jetted tub. I’ve always loved taking a long hot bath after a rough shift. The double sink vanity has to be a single piece of marble.

The door to the bedroom opens and several thumps happen fast followed by the door slamming closed again. I walk out of the bathroom to find my suitcases and duffle bag.

I dig through my duffle bag and find a bobby pin. Thank god for the lessons learned from Danny. It takes four tries for me to get the cuffs off. I toss them across the room.

Looking at my suitcases, it’s clear someone went through them, they aren’t zipped up completely. I know it’s a waste of time, but I search anyway. The gun I packed is missing. I’m so fucking screwed.

As I go to zip up a suitcase, I shrug. I’m not one for sitting around in a dress. I snag a pair of yoga pants and a long, plain white T-shirt and change. I can’t give a reason for keeping my bra and panties on other than I loved the way they felt against my skin. And if I’m going to be killed, I’d like to die with them on. For the first time ever, I don’t even think of someone seeing my fat ass as I change. It doesn’t feel like it matters much anymore.

I pace around the room, wondering what the hell I’m even doing still breathing. If he knows I wanted to kill him, why not have one of the men in the Escalade kill me? I get it. If you try and kill a member of the Outfit, you’re dead the moment the idea entered your mind. It makes sense. Why leave someone alive to give them another chance?

At the same time, no matter what, I can't kill him. Closing my eyes, I fight back stupid tears. I can’t kill Tony Sabatini, not even to save myself. I’m not sure what happened or why. The why doesn’t matter. I just can’t do it.

Only I’m completely and utterly screwed because Tony won’t believe me. He’ll think I’m trying to save myself. I couldn’t begin trying to explain it to him if I couldn’t figure it out myself.

The door opens abruptly. Tony fills the doorframe. He’s so freaking big, is all I can think.