Page 25 of Lust and Honor

Present day

Aurora squirms in my arms and grumbles in a small voice, “Mama, don’t squeeze me.”

I loosen my arms around her tiny frame. “Sorry, sweetie. Want to sit next to me?”

She glances nervously at Carlo, who’s sitting beside us in the back seat, and presses herself closer to my chest. I kiss the top of her head, silently thanking God again that she’s okay. The doctor assured us the sedative was safe before releasing her from the hospital.

To keep her from getting scared of Carlo, I shift her to my other knee and whisper in her ear, “Sleep, baby.”

“I’m hungry,” she whines again.

She has every right to be. It’s already dark out, and we’ve spent the whole day getting kidnapped, rescued, and checked at the hospital. I glance at Carlo, who’s scrolling through something on his iPad, completely ignoring us. He’s been so distant and icy these past few hours, I haven’t even dared ask him a single question. Especially now that the adrenaline is wearing off and my mind’s clearing, the truth is getting harder to ignore.

Carlo Bruni is more than just a businessman. Businessmen don’t walk around with a private army. And the fact that he knows Maxim tells me exactly what kind of man he really is. Sure, he saved me from my father’s men, but I’m not sure what kind of mess I’m in now.

A call comes through, and my eyes instinctively flick to the iPad screen. Carlo doesn’t bother hiding it and answers the video call. Loud rock music blasts through the speakers, mixed with laughter and shouting.

It’s a blond man with blue eyes, standing under flashing red and blue lights. “Carlo, Maxim’s lost his mind. He kicked out all the customers. Now he’s got all the girls gathered around him and…”

He pauses, then shrugs. “See for yourself.”

The man flips the camera, and the first thing that catches my eye is a naked woman lying flat on a round table, several neat lines of white powder between her breasts. Behind her, Maxim is sprawled on a circular leather couch, shirtless, his mouth on one woman’s breast while his hand is between another’s legs. Liquor bottles cover every surface, and other women are tangled up together in the background.

Maxim shoves them away, leans over the girl on the table, and snorts what I now know for sure is cocaine through a rolled-up bill pressed against his nose.

He jerks his head back, shakes it hard side to side, and yells in a lazy, slurred voice, “I’ve got a daughter! A fucking daughter!”

He grabs the bottle, but Carlo cuts in with a sharp tone, “Go get him, Brando. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. The last thing I need is for him to OD on me.”

The camera flips back to the blond man. “I’m on it.”

Carlo ends the call, his jaw clenched so hard I can see the muscles twitch.

I swallow hard and try to break the ice. “I don’t know how to thank you, Mr. Bruni.”

He slowly turns his head toward me, and the hostility glinting in his gray eyes chills me to the bone. A deep scar on his right eyebrow makes his glare even more threatening.

He glances at my daughter, his voice low but firm. “Don’t thank me. I didn’t do it for you. I couldn’t care less what happened to you. If you want to thank someone, thank the girl in your arms. If not for her, I would’ve hung you by your hair by now.”

I freeze, my lungs tightening so much I forget how to breathe. My tongue sticks to the roof of my dry mouth. I start to open my mouth, but he cuts me off.

“Quiet.” His voice stays low and controlled. “That girl’s had enough fear for one day.”

He’s right. I shut my mouth and brace myself for whatever he’s got planned for me.

After driving through streets that don’t look familiar, the van pulls into the lush, sprawling courtyard of a luxury villa.

Carlo finally looks at me. “Out.” Same cold tone. Same lack of mercy.

Now I’m not just scared, I’m pissed. Who the hell does he think he is, treating me like this? What the hell did I even do to deserve this hostility? Still, he’s right about one thing: I need to take care of Aurora first before I go toe-to-toe with Carlo Bruni.

When we step out, Aurora refuses to leave my arms, so I carry her inside, my body aching with the effort. After passing through a sleek, modern hallway, my eyes widen at the sight of the living room to the left. Right in the middle of the house are two circular stages with stripper poles, like something straight out of a strip club.

Carlo moves ahead to the right, heading into the kitchen. Two of his men stand behind me, and when they see me standing still in place, one gives me a gentle nudge to keep moving.

The kitchen’s interior is all black decor, but the large windows overlooking the lush garden make the room feel strangely calm.

Carlo stands by the black marble island and gestures toward the four-person dining table. “Feed her.”