Page 99 of The Hidden Heir

Slowly, my hand reaches down, taking long, precious seconds to feel his muscles, packed hard beneath his smooth, hot-to-the-touch skin.

“What will you do next?” I ask him.

“About Stefano? I’m not sure yet. About you, however, that’s a different story.”

I find him thick and throbbing, my hand barely able to wrap around his magnificent cock. It only takes a few delicate strokes to light an even greater fire. Before long, I’m twisted and tangled with him, crying out his name and tasting bliss on the tip of my tongue.

Tomorrow, we’ll figure the rest out.

30

VALENTINA

Gunshots ring out through the night.

I feel Luca stirring beside me.

“Valentina, get down!” he shouts.

It’s dark, except for the light coming in from the open motel room door, as men come through the splintered frame. There are four of them. They’re clad in black and heavily armed.

“Don’t move!” one of them shouts.

Luca reaches for his gun, which he left on the nightstand. I scream, the terror tightening its hold on my throat.

Before Luca manages to grab his gun, the men jump him. He fights back, naked and feral, but he’s overpowered.

A punch lands. His head whips around, yet he finds the strength and the clarity to try to keep them away from me. The fourth goon runs around the bed, pointing his gun at me.

“I said don’t fucking move!” he snarls.

“You picked the wrong night for this,” Luca replies and lunges at him, but the other three tackle him. I scream, again and again, watching in horror, as they throw punches to his face, to his torso, to his side. They hit him so hard, he doubles over.

Then the butt of a pistol cracks against his temple. The skin splits open. Luca begins to bleed and falls to the ground.

“Luca!” I cry out.

He’s alive, barely conscious and quickly slipping away, but alive. He struggles to stay awake and fails while the fourth guy grabs me out of the bed. One of the other three yanks the sheet off the bed and throws it over me.

They hold me and wrap me in it.

“Let me go!” I scream, kicking like an untamed horse, wild and out of control.

“Don’t make me hurt you!” the fourth man says.

I manage to yank my head out of the sheet long enough to see Luca as he tries to get up. A boot rams into his stomach, forcing him to cough and heave, before he drops back down.

“Let’s go!” the shot caller says, already at the door, looking out and clearing the path. His weapon is cocked and ready, a semi-automatic that glints slightly orange under the motel’s neon sign. A man throws me over one shoulder, like a sack of potatoes, and carries me out of the motel room.

I try to scream as loud as I can, but the second guy presses his gun against my temple. I feel the cold metal, along with drops of sweat dripping down my forehead.

“Say one more fucking thing, and I’ll kill you. Our orders were to take you, preferably alive. But it’s not a prerequisite, Mrs. Petrucci.”

Someone knew we’d be here. They waited to attack us in our most vulnerable moment, and it worked. My blood thickens with icy dread as I look around.

I catch a glimpse of Luca tripping into the doorway, gun in his hand. Blood trickles down his face, his temple bleeding and rapidly swelling.

But he doesn’t have a clear shot, not with me in the picture.