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“I’m fine.” But inside, I’m cowering.
“Have one in any case,amorina. You might need it.”
“I think I’ll call it a night.” I stand, putting some action behind my words. “I’ve come all the way from London, and it’s late.”
“But we’re not done. We hardly know each other.”
And I plan to keep it this way.
Franco takes the whiskey another man holds out to him. I give him a quick once-over. A three-in-one bodyguard, torture device, and executioner. Dressed all in black, he gives all those vibes just by standing there, glaring at me under hooded lids.
“Some things are best left for after the wedding, don’t you think?” I tease, keeping my tone light.
I won’t be raped tonight. Over my dead body. Already, my gaze has homed in on the poker sticks by the fireplace as potential weapons.
“Maybe, but some things I’d like to sort out before we get married.”
“Such as?”
I sweep my gaze around the room. Four men are on standby to protect Franco, all clones of each other, camouflaged in the corners of the library with their all-black attire.
“We’ll talk about it.” He takes my hand and leads me to the sofa. His touch is warm and scratchy against my cold fingers. He waits for me to sit, then circles the ice in his glass while he towers over me. He’s intimidating, and I can’t help but recall the way Stephano looked at me that night as he stood over me just like this. There was nothing sinister in his look, not like Franco, who stares at me like he’s about to dissect a frog for fun. “I am going to rebuild Randazzo’s empire, only this time, it will be stronger. He was a remarkable man, but he left his legacy in shambles, ready for the taking. Think about it,amorina, you’ll be the wife of the most revered and powerful Don in the whole of Europe.”
I swallow and watch how his gaze dips to my throat. If only I can stop giving my fear away. “I’m used to all that.”
“Maybe.” Franco sighs. “From what I understand, you’ve been allowed to run wild. What with your own business, your constant travels and art auctions.”
His words are a noose around my neck, tightening.
“I won’t allow you—surely, you must understand the danger,amorina—to continue in this way.” He still hasn’t sat down, but cups my face, and I force myself not to flinch. “You’ll be home, with our children, like a good wife. I might take on Randazzo’s operations as my own, but I won’t allow my hard work to go to anybody but my sons.”
And by ‘take’, he means war. The signs are all there: the man in front of me is a maniac. So calm as he sips his whiskey.
He nods at one of the men who stands behind me, and I freeze as a hand clasps over my mouth and a fist burrows in my hair to hold my head in place. The other two men are on me, each one gripping an arm as Franco steps in between my flailing legs.
“Calm down, Gigi,” he croons softly. “This can take hours, or minutes. Depends totally on how much fuss you make.”
15
GIGI
“Randazzo liked to tattoo his girls,” Franco says as another man, this one carrying a medical case, comes forward. “But people can remove tattoos. I prefer something permanent.”
Something permanent?
I thrash around, kicking and trying to break free. I slip on the leather sofa, but strong hands hold my arms, and the fist in my hair jerks and pulls me up to sit. Pain shoots around my skull, and I gasp against the hand reeking of old cigarettes.
“Gag her.” Franco glares down at me, his mouth pulled into a cruel smirk. “Hold still,amorina, or my hand might slip.”
I close my eyes, not wanting to see what comes next. The grip on my mouth loosens, and I scream on instinct. It’s hardly a wail before a fist punches me in the gut, followed by another hitting my ribcage.
I double over in agony. The grips on my arms don’t slacken, and my shoulders strain painfully. Winded, I drop back on the sofa but can’t breathe. Pain radiates with every attempt to move.
When the hand slips from my mouth, I only manage desperate pulls of air that don’t seem to reach my lungs. Aleather belt scratches the sides of my open lips as it forces my mouth open and tightens.
Weight comes down on my mound, pressing on my sex through the fabric of this frivolous summer dress. I glance up through my tears at Franco. He has dropped his knee to my crotch, pinning me down.
“Sorry,amorina, but you had that coming. Work with us now, so we can all go to bed.”
