AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She doesn’t even acknowledge my final comment as she races up the steps of The Plaza Hotel.
Rage simmers in the center of my chest. If I can’t have Maisy Jordan, no one else will.
CHAPTER 2
JUST BEHAVE
Maisy
The clang of dumbbells mixes with the tune of ragged breaths and thump, thump of sneakers on the treadmill, but none of that distracts from the maddening tempo of my pulse roaring across my eardrum. One encounter with Nico Rossi and my insides are in a twisted mess.
I glance over my shoulder for the tenth time since I walked into the hotel, then descended the steps to the exclusive gym where I work. Walking across the crowded workout floor toward my office, I still can’t help but hazard a peek back to make sure he’s not behind me.
Relax, Maisy, he can’t possibly do anything to you in the middle of all these people. And not just any people, but the upper crust of Manhattan’s high society. At Palestra, senators, diplomats and C.E.O.’s mix and mingle over sweat and sweatshirts. I noticed Nico here for the first time only a few days ago. My heart had nearly jumped out of my chest at the sight of the dark haired, tattooed gangster-slash-C.E.O. The worst part was the reason he’d caught my eye within the sea of bare-chested men: I found him attractive.
Like crazy, scorching, panty-dropping hot.
One look at that long, midnight hair pulled into a tie at the back of his neck, dark wisps falling over a massive phoenix tattoo across his broad shoulders had my entire body perked up in attention.
It was only when he turned around and those hypnotic blue eyes met mine, I realized I’d been ogling the man who’d captured my friend and me at gunpoint, drugged us and tossed us into a shipping container a few months earlier.
Nico Rossi is a bad man. A very bad man, and I needed to stay far away.
If only someone could get the message to my lusty cooter.
“Hey, Maisy!” Becca, one of the girls at the reception desk, waves with a smile. “Good lunch break?”
Ha. “Uneventful.” Total lie. I dart past her before I start spilling completely embarrassing information and move down the hall to the administrative offices. I’ve been working as the human resources assistant for almost six months now. Ever since my divorce was finalized.
Jerking my office door open, I squeeze my eyes closed as thoughts of my ex-husband flood my mind. Jasper Whitaker a.k.a. Mark Rattinger. As it turns out, not only was my ex an abusive mother trucker, but he was also living a double life assaulting innocent women under an assumed name.
Thank goodness that son of a biscuit is finally out of my life for good.
Or is he? That niggling dark voice echoes in the back of my mind, and goosebumps cascade down my arms. He was never caught.
I settle into my desk and try to shoo the dark thoughts to the far corners of my mind. Something to discuss with my therapist at a later time.
Only they keep surging to the surface.
Darkness consumes my vision. My rapid breaths setting my lungs on fire as I sit in the backseat of a van, gagged, and with a hood over my head.
“Everything’s going to be okay, Maisy.” Or at least I think that’s what my friend, Rose, says around her gag. Somehow, she must have loosened hers because I can’t get a single word out.
A man sits beside me, his firm thigh pressed against mine and the spicy scent of his cologne filtering through the hood and invading my nostrils. He spouts off directions to the driver. Some in Italian which I don’t understand but the majority in English. Apparently, we’re headed to some shipping yard in lower Manhattan.
“Where’s Max?” The male beside me growls, the deep tenor of his voice amplifying my rioting heartbeat.
“He’s already on his way. He’ll meet us there with the package.”
“Good. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time until Dante shows up. I cannot wait for our big surprise.”
The car begins to slow, and another rush of fear ices my veins. I want to believe Rose’s boyfriend, Dante, will save us, but we’re caught in a freaking mob war right now, and who knows what will happen once the bullets start to fly. I’m a magnet for disasters. Poor Rose is never going to survive this with me by her side.
The van door jerks open, and another male voice ushers us out. I take a step from the car and pitch forward, tripping on who the heck knows what. Probably my own dang feet. An arm laces around my waist and tugs me into a firm chest so I don’t fall flat on my face since my wrists are bound.
I recognize the man’s spicy scent from a second ago in the van. He holds me flush against the hard planes of his body for another instant, and my body rages at his touch. I’m hot and cold all at once, a deadly mix of fear and something else I will never admit to. Good golly, how long has it been since I’ve been touched by a man? My stupid, traitorous body is all confused.
“Relax, little fox. No one’s going to hurt you.” That deep voice, even through the thick material of the hood sends chills down my spine. He finally releases me, and another big hand jerks me forward. “Careful with her, fuckhead.” The snarl from behind me instantly loosens the hold around my upper arm.
