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He didn’t address me, didn’t even glance my way again.

I was given a rain slicker and escorted out of the room after the group of armed men flanking Dante.

Attempting to fight seemed pointless now. There were too many of them, and Dante must have ordered them not to release me.

I couldn’t get away. I’d missed my chance.

I could see him ahead of me, walking stiffly but refusing any assistance as we left the house and made our way down the cliff steps through the storm.

I spotted an enormous boat—four storeys high, its hull buffeted by the churning waves—moored at the opening to the cove as I was led aboard one of the speedboats which Dante’s men must have used to arrive at the dock.

I was shivering with cold and anxiety when I was finally brought aboard the huge superyacht. Dante had disappeared.

The luxury boat reminded me of the one belonging to Vito, which Mia and my friends Jess and Becca and I had boarded all those months ago in Naples—on a sultry spring evening that had changed my life and my sister’s forever. This vessel was about the same size, and equally as high spec. But unlike that night, when Vito’s yacht had been chic and welcoming, crowded with glamorous partygoers, Dante’s superyacht was forbidding, more like a fortress than a boat, and full of armed men. I didn’t spot a single female face as I was led across the deck and up a flight of stairs, shivering now not just from my wet clothing, but also with fear and apprehension as all sorts of diabolical scenarios raced through my head.

What was going to happen to me now? Where were they taking me?

Would Dante leave me to the mercy of these men?

Strangely, though, I didn’t suspect a sexual threat from any of them, because they all averted their eyes as I passed. In fact, they made a point of not looking at me.

Finally, I was led into a lavish stateroom on the main deck of the yacht. The man who had escorted me from the house directed me to sit in a chair. He got a towel from the bathroom and handed it to me. Then he cut through the tie on my wrists and said something which I suspected was an order to stay put from his forbidding expression.

After he left the suite, the lock clicked shut.

Less than a minute later, I felt the yacht’s engines power up. It was hard to see much through the long narrow window at the front of the cabin, but the motion increased as the yacht bounced over the turbulent waves, picking up speed. Wherever we were headed, we were travelling fast.

I shrugged off the rain slicker and toed off my wet shoes, then used the towel as best I could to dry off while shivering, even though the room was warm. I bit my lip to stop the pointless tears seeping from my eyes.

I’d been an idiot, staying to care for Dante, waiting too long to escape.

I stumbled to counter the yacht’s motion, which kept jostling me, and clambered onto the bed. I drew the blankets over my shuddering body. The beating rain outside, the rocking motion making my stomach judder and the exhaustion—from all the stress—made my thoughts feel blurry and dull.

Even so, I struggled to catalogue the pros in my imprisonment. And not the cons. Because it was the only way to stop me panicking myself to death.

Surely, I was just a useful pawn in the dangerous power struggle between the brothers?

I also knew, from a conversation with Mia’s maid Gabriella, Vito had been negotiating with the Malvinis—Dante’s syndicate—while holding him captive. Why would Dante jeopardise a deal between them, by harming me?

And no one had hurt me. Yet.

Clinging to that, I recalled the expression on Dante’s face when our gazes had clashed after his men had first arrived on Capri.

The ruthlessness and cynicism I had become accustomed to had still been there, but there had been something else. Not exactly gratitude, but maybe, just maybe, a tiny iota of respect.

There had also been awareness, reminding me of the moment when our gazes had first locked two days ago—when he’d been the prisoner and not me.

While I had absolutely no experience with men, especially not men like Dante, and I wasn’t convinced that awareness was a good thing, perhaps it also didn’t have to be a bad thing—if it meant he kept me with him… Because as dangerous as he was, I felt safer with Dante than with his men.

My frantic reasoning didn’t do much to calm my heaving stomach, though, as the yacht crashed through the turbulent waves towards who knew where…

CHAPTER FOUR

Dante

I stifled a hiss of agony as Dr Romano stitched the gunshot wound.

He’d already cleaned and irrigated the deep gash and pumped me full of heavy-duty painkillers, but they had not yet taken effect.